Mia #19 Alone In The World

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From alt.drwho.creative, it's Missing Internet Adventure #19: Alone in the World

Contains: Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter

1: 2: 3: 4: 5: 6: 7:

"The Silent Majority" by Cameron Dixon "The Power of Many" by Tim Jones "Echo's Answer" by Philip Alderman "Sour Times" by Tony Whitt "The Cancer Within" by K. Michael Wilcox "Absolute Loneliness Corrupts Absolutely" by Jeff Beuck "And Pay the Thunder No Mind" by Mary Hyde

Chapter One: "The Silent Majority" by Cameron Dixon It was a beautiful day for an ostracism, with highs predicted in the mid-teens and nothing but sunshine for the coming day. Despite the grim nature of his duty, Justice Terrix Vanadi's spirits were high as he strode across Philton Square towards the courthouse, his judicial robes flapping about him in a light, cool breeze blowing from the northwest. It was, after all, useless to regret the inevitable, and he took comfort in knowing that the world would be just that little bit better for not having the guilty party in it. He tilted his head up to the sky, closed his eyes and let the feelings of those around him wash over his mind like the rising sunlight. Yes, overall, they felt that justice was being served here. There was regret, which was only natural when such a harsh sentence was being passed; there was the desire that the man had seen the nature of things more clearly and had felt remorse for his actions, and that his expulsion from civilised society would not be necessary. But there was acceptance as well. A genuine horror at the man's beliefs and what they implied about the people's nature. An understanding that the man was a contaminant, and that his twisted morals were best excised from the People's thought pool before they spread. Yes, Vanadi thought, pleased, it may have been unfortunate, but the will of the people was being done here through him... So occupied was he with the thoughts of others that he'd walked right into the middle of the crowd before he realised it was there. Which should have been impossible. The momentary shock actually caused him to stumble, caught literally wrong-footed by the sudden realisation

that he was surrounded by people who weren't there. He stood gaping at the people around him, the sheer shock of the impossibility driving the obvious conclusion right out of his head. One of the crowd, a fierce-looking young man with dirty hair and glaring eyes, stared right at him and spoke. *Spoke*. Out *loud*. It was so unexpected, such a reversal of what he had been doing just a few brief moments ago, that Vanadi honestly didn't hear what was being said to him. There had only been language, with no codifying emotional tags to let him know what the young man was truly thinking. It was as if -At last the obvious occurred to him, but not so obvious, really, after all. For what would the Empty be doing so deep in the city from which they had been expelled? And why were there so many of them? The young man turned back to the rest of the crowd, his lips twisted into an unpleasant configuration, and spoke loudly. "You see?" Vanadi heard. "He doesn't understand! He doesn't know why we've come! That is not our weakness, it is our *strength*!" Vanadi sighed, his heart pounding, and tried to suppress the brief surge of irritation that he felt. This had not been real fear, just as it was not genuine anger he was feeling now; it was simply a chemical flush at the threat perceived by his animal brain. The fight or flight response common to all unthinking brutes. Nothing shared by the community; not a human emotion, nothing real. "Excuse me," he said, remembering to say it out loud, and shouldered his way through the crowd of Empties towards the courthouse. For a moment he felt another flush of fear as the crowd jostled around him; what if they didn't let him out, what if they struck against him for some inexplicable reason of their own? It couldn't be possible, they couldn't actually attack a Justice here in the heart of the city, in the bright light of day, but how could he be sure? You couldn't know what they were thinking. There was no way to tell. They were Empty. The young man's voice rose behind him, and he tried his best to ignore it. "There are more of us than you think! And there will be more, and more, every day! You think you can put us aside? You think you can pretend we are not here? You ignore our suffering and call us Empty? We are here! We will *remain* here! We will *always* be here!" The voice of the crowd -- voices, rather, what an odd thought to have -- rose up in a chant, a mantra that filled the square like a rising tide, pouring up around the buildings, gushing through the streets, filling the cityscape with the sound of anger united -"HOW MANY WILL YOU HOW MANY WILL YOU HOW MANY

MORE IGNORE? MORE IGNORE? M--"

Like face be a than

a rising tide of disaffection, the voices washed away at the stone of the Courthouse, and a man who knew no better might think it to single shouting voice, the voice of a being united, a whole greater the sum of its parts. But Justice Vanadi knew better, and he felt nothing from them and he felt nothing for them, and when the doors closed behind him the sound was shut away outside, and it was as if they had never been there at all. Elsewhere in the city, a man was waking up Empty.

At first the Doctor dismissed the pang of loss as a reminder that he hadn't eaten in days. Reminding himself to do something about that as soon as the opportunity arose, he put it out of his mind and peered at the elaborate framework on the laboratory table. This was a solitary pursuit, chosen for its calming qualities, just the thing he needed... but even that thought was a disturbance to his tranqility. He picked up two more components and balanced them neatly atop the structure, and couldn't help but feel a flush of satisfaction as they fit neatly in. Once complete, this would be the largest house of cards ever constructed. He'd come straight back to London from Wales, stepped into the TARDIS and shifted it into the Vortex, seeking solitude to come to terms with these angry, useless, human feelings contaminating him. He'd been around the dratted species for too long; humanity was a communicable disease, and he'd caught a terminal case of it. He'd wandered the TARDIS, seeking something to occupy his mind without the need for thought, and had eventually begun to crack open the seals on decks he'd had lying around the TARDIS for aeons. Including the one he'd taken as payment from that pleasant young riverboat gambler on the Mississippi River, in exchange for some of the tricks of his trade. He'd never used it since, but it was the thought that counted. Although since he hadn't thought of the man for centuries that wasn't as reassuring as it was intended to be. The four of hearts balanced against a seven of diamonds, and he thought about the young man again. They had met briefly, shared a few tall tales and learned things from each other, and had departed at the end of the day richer for the experience. Short and convenient, and wasn't that the best kind of friendship? Not like this other one that stabbed the hearts with its ending, its intimation of change and mortality... Back to the cards. The queen of diamonds and the nine of spades, and the seven of diamonds rests atop the tips of the two triangles, a support for yet another layer to be built on top. And yet despite all his efforts to avoid it he still remembered their first meeting, when she gushed into his laboratory, bright-eyed and vibrant with enthusiasm, like a bucket of cold water tossed into a stagnant pond. What an effort it had been to resent her intrusion, and not worth it in the end; better still to be the mentor, play the part of the grandfather figure once again. And the rewards of friendship making him more than he could ever have been alone. She had been so bright and open, never afraid to speak her mind, so completely unlike Ian and Barbara, yet reminding him of them in such a fundamental way... He peered at the cards in the dim light and balanced the two of hearts against the queen of spades from another deck, and why was he thinking now of Ian and Barbara? His encounter with the Thals must have brought them to mind. The ace of diamonds and the seven of spades. How he'd resented them when they pushed their way aboard his ship, his TARDIS, his sanctuary, disturbing his grand solitude. The four of diamonds supported by the four cards beneath. And how he'd hurt when they chose to leave him, hurt more than words could express... ...the dim light? The Doctor looked up sharply, realising for the first time just how dark it had become in the TARDIS, and as he started to rise from his seat the lights fled entirely and another pang of loss struck him like a blow to both his hearts and he finally understood that there was something wrong somewhere, something terribly wrong, and that it wasn't just him at all.

To an outsider the trial would look like this. The accused sits in a cubicle, surrounded by wooden bars, physically -- if largely symbolically -- separated from the rest of the court. Alone. His gaze darts about the court, his eyes revolving wildly as if his head is being soundly shaken. His hands clutch the arms of his seat and his fingers scrabble nervously at the wood as if trying to claw it out of existence. There is an audience, or perhaps a congregation. The people mumble and cough and stir in their seats and look at the man in the box, a multitude of facial expressions directed towards the man with the moving eyes. They sit in rows of solid wooden benches, observing all. A woman in a white suit, her hair pulled back in an unfashionably tight bun, sits at a desk before the accused and looks at the judge, who looks at the accused, who stares back at one and the other, the other, and the one. His fingers clutch spastically at the chair as if trying to anchor themselves. The judge shakes his head and mumbles something which can barely be made out above the shuffle and cough of the crowd. Something which sounds a little like "Am I gone? May I say it's so," but which is probably something else entirely. He rests his hands on the bench. The eyes of the accused have settled now. His face seems slack, devoid of expression. Two men in grey uniforms step forward. The box opens, and the man steps out. He still says nothing. He does not resist as the grey men take his arms and escort him away. The audience gets up to leave. Alexis woke gradually, as always, letting the process take its own pace. Her identity seeped back in around the dispersing clouds of dream, and she stretched like a cat in the warmth from the window. Lazily, reflexively, she reached out with her mind to touch her husband's, to caress him from his sleep and join her in the land of the living. He wasn't there. She didn't panic. She wasn't awake enough to realise on any but the most fundamental of body-levels that there was something wrong. In some dim way she registered an absence, an unfulfilled expectation like hunger or thirst; something that was needed, was not where it should be. She rolled over, the slow process of waking beginning to curdle into something unpleasant in her head, and found a body lying in bed next to her. She'd let out a shrill shriek even before she realised that the body was moving, and she flinched back, falling out of the bed, eyes as wide as if she'd had a dash of cold water to her face. She still didn't consciously register that the body in the bed had been startled awake by the sound of her scream; there was just the sense of wrongness, sharper still, and now stabbed through the heart with a new flavour, that of panic. She felt the panic gush out of her mind to the homes of her neighbours, the sense of confusion and concern flowing back, emotional echolocation placing her where she was, pouring her identity back into herself, and as the dim sleep-addled concepts of her surroundings began to solidify into concrete actualities she finally realised that it was her husband after all, there after all, there but not there. Vryan was awake, slapped out of sleep by the frantic movement and sound, with a look on his face that she didn't understand. She could sense nothing behind the look, not then, although in the long years to

come she would learn that it was an expression of fear. Strange how the details came back to her later. His hands suddenly clenching at the bedsheets. His eyes dim, not entirely taking her in, then, suddenly widening in shock, as he tried to reach out to her mind and found that he no longer could. Later, yes, she would know. But not then. Not then on the first day of the Disaster as she huddled beneath her window, her skin shivering away from the chill walls not yet warmed by the rising sun, her husband thrashing on the bed, his face stretched in a silent scream, his eyes wide with what she would later know to be a panic-stricken lack of understanding. Cut off. For no reason. Disassociated. Empty. It was then that Alexis' neighbours began to panic as well. "You can silence our MINDS, but not our VOICES! You may have sent us AWAY, but we are STILL HERE! And there are MORE of us than you THINK!" In the square outside the courthouse, a young man with angry eyes, a furious sneer and supremely pissed-off hair waved his arms at the multitudes and shouted, at the top of his lungs and from the bottom of his diaphragm, as if he could draw their attention to him by sheer force of will. But of course he couldn't. Not any more. "Do you THINK this can continue forEVer? How many MORE can you put outside soCIety before soCIety falls aPART? Which of your LOVED ones will be next?" The other Empties cheered, but the people of the city walked past without acknowledging them. It was just sound. Not language. "When will you open your eyes to your own hypocrisy? When will you see that you are doing to us what you have condemned us for doing to you? You say that it is better to seek help from others than to shelter within oneself. You say that you are always there for each other. But this is not TRUE! You are AFRAID of us! You are not cutting us away from you, you are cutting yourself off from US! Our population continues to grow! Why is it so much easier in these overcrowded days to be accused of committing an antisocial act? Why in these enlightened times is it so much easier to be cut off from society, never to be allowed back?" He raised his fist in the air. "How many MORE?" he shouted, and the rest of the crowd shouted it along with him. "Will you IGNORE? How many MORE? Will you IGNORE? How many MORE?" The mantra rose above the courtyard, reaching all, sound carried through the air, thrumming against the eardrums, touching the nerves, carried to the brain, sparking against the chemicals within. A primal beat that reached places the people of the city did not want to acknowledge existed. People found themselves tense with frustration as they struggled out of the square, and were unable to understand why. Without realising what they were doing, the people were carrying the rage of the Empties out of the square with them, a gushing well-spring of anger with no source that the people could understand. HOW MANY WILL YOU HOW MANY WILL YOU HOW MANY

MORE IGNORE? MORE IGNORE? MORE

Frustration seeking solace in others. others around than there had been.

But there seemed to be fewer

HOW MANY MORE And all across the city, people were waking up Empty. The Doctor strode into the console room, fastening his cloak about his neck, already considering and discarding possible solutions to the problem. The cry of loss he'd felt, he decided, was too strong to be his or that of his TARDIS, which meant that the TARDIS was picking up the call of some other being -- or perhaps beings. It was more than loss; it had the feeling of death to it, of something valuable broken into pieces, dissolving into the outer darkness, lost forever. Something or someone was in desperate need of help. And that was, after all, what a Doctor was for. He rested his hands on the telepathic circuits, closed his eyes and opened his mind. Speak to me, he thought, I'm here. A series of clicks came from the console, and the Doctor, puzzled, opened his eyes. This was unexpected. The TARDIS seemed to be re-setting its own co-ordinates and following the cry to its source. He peered suspiciously at the console and tapped the telepathic circuits again, but apart from the recurring cries of pain, there was no other sign of outward interference. He opened his mouth to speak, and then hesitated and closed it again; he'd been about to ask Jo what she made of it. So if the Time Lords weren't responsible, what was? Could the source of this cry -- some vast being or planetary gestalt -- be so powerful that it was capable of bringing itself help in response to its own cry by plucking the TARDIS out of the flow of the Vortex? Or -- the Doctor suddenly frowned -- was the TARDIS itself responding to the sense of loss, anticipating his own wish to become involved, put things right... Hardly anticipating, he corrected himself; he'd responded to the cry first, he'd placed his hands on the telepathic circuits and asked if there was anything he could do. Something had asked for help, and he'd responded. He allowed himself a wry smile. So much for cutting himself off from the rest of the world. It seemed that despite it all, he was still a Doctor. There was another beep from the console, and the data bank began to scroll with destination data. Apparently the TARDIS had drifted into the 32nd century before picking up the cry, and was now about to land on the planet Hasek II. A former human colony world, settled by psi-outcasts from the Empire in the 27th century, it had declared independence shortly thereafter, or rather had whispered it quietly and gone about its business, apparently unnoticed. Given the Empire's endemic terror of any powerful force that it did not directly control, this suggested to the Doctor that the colonists had pooled their psychic abilities to divert attention from their world, an astonishing feat in itself. And once pooled, who knew what heights -- or depths -- such a telepathic gestalt could reach? Everyone on the planet would be connected to a superior consciousness, a sum greater than the whole of its parts. It might be a utopia. Or it might not. The Doctor scanned the entry for the planet's history, but, as he feared, the entries were conspicuously blank for this era, a clear indication that he would be involved in the coming events at some point in his future. And very soon in his future if the grinding noise coming from the console was any indication. Right, then, he said to himself, something or someone needs our help, and in the helping of others, perhaps we help ourselves. As

always, the TARDIS knew just what he needed. But the pang of loss he'd felt was so great. What sort of trauma could do that? If, as he suspected, the planet had evolved into a gestalt, then it was as if the cry had come from the entire gestalt itself; as if the gestalt was on the verge of collapse... With a grinding roar, the TARDIS shuddered into existence, and in a distant corridor there was the sound of fluttering doves' wings as the Doctor's house of cards collapsed. It was too soon to panic. The first case had come into the hospital just before dawn, an early riser who had stumbled into emergency, his eyes glazed and his voice raw. He had been ignored at first, as he was one of the Empty and alone to boot, but then another had come in, and another, and then the calls had started to come in on the vid-phones, not from the Empty themselves, but from their friends, family, lovers; the ones who knew, and could prove, that these Empty were not supposed to be. But it was too soon to panic. There did seem to be some sort of... trend, beginning to make itself known. There did appear to be people who were losing their connection to the gestalt. But it was still relatively minor, the number of people affected merely a handful of the local population. It wasn't serious yet, at least not for the population at large, even if it was the end of the world for those directly affected by it. The only problem lay in the fact that the doctors and nurses had no idea what was causing it, and without a starting point they could fix no destination; find no cure. And still there were more coming in. But it was too soon to panic. Far too soon. The doctors assured each new arrival that this was minor, soon to pass. Perhaps it was caused by stress; perhaps it was a form of fin de siecle hysteria, a momentary blindness that affected the telepathic senses. Temporary, in any case. Easily cured. Eventually. The word "plague" never crossed their minds, not where anyone could read it. And still there were more coming in. But it was too soon to panic. Yet still, the panic was spreading. To an insider the trial would look quite different. The accused, Tynon Jonnix, sits in a cubicle, numb with terror, his thoughts chasing themselves in circles. Occasionally they reach out, imploring, to the audience which has gathered, begging them to see reason. His gaze darts about the court, from person to person, his thoughts pleading for a respite. Surely they can see his innocence. It is there in his mind for all to read. His intentions were always honourable, his desire still is to have the best for society, why can they not see that? The audience mumbles and stirs uncomfortably. Some turn their eyes from him in shame, feeling that he has a point, but unwilling to act for fear of facing the same penalty. There are few of these, however, and they have come only to prove themselves wrong. There will be no help here. There will be no help from those who stare at him with pity, wishing for him to see the error of his ways before it is too late. There will be no help from those who stare at him with chastisement, happy that this criminal has been brought to justice and will soon face the ultimate penalty for his crimes. There will be no help. The court Psychologist sits at her desk, her hair pulled back in an unfashionably tight bun to keep it out of her eyes and keep pressure on

her face, making her more alert. There has been no defense, no prosecution; the facts of the case are plain, shining like phosphorescence from the surface of Jonnix's mind. He cannot deny, and has not denied, that he was engaged in the sale of telepathic mufflers, illegal devices designed to cut the user off from the rest of society --- although he *still* denies this fervently. They do not cut out external thoughts entirely, they merely dampen the force of the incoming emotions. In a world whose telepathic population is growing larger every day, such a device is necessary for those whose natural sympathies are already too great for them to handle. There have been reported cases of those who have lost themselves in the wash of others, their own identities subsumed under the ebb and flow of the personalities surrounding them... And these people, the Psychologist reminds the court, are daily surrounded by caring professionals with the aim of rebuilding their personality and welcoming them back into society. Only in the most extreme cases of madness is the reluctant decision made to excise the victim from the gestalt. The cure is to guide them back into society, not to cut them off entirely. But again, he cries, this is not what he does! His devices muffle, they do not eliminate. They serve to protect those who would otherwise be afflicted by personality loss *before* it is too late. Surely they can see that there is a significant difference! Even now he denies that this is happening to him; even now, Jonnix knows in his heart that he is a good man, he knows that his intentions were good and that all those around him can *see* his intentions were good, and he cannot believe that they would still condemn him to a solitary life, expelled from all he had known, not when he had acted for the good of all. Even looking into the mind of his judge, he cannot really believe that this is about to happen. He is still convinced that there will be a last-minute reprieve. Surely by all that is right and good in the world Justice Vanadi (he thinks of the man by his given name in a spasm of desperation) will have to *understand*! And yet all he can see in the Justice's mind is pity, and although there is compassion there, it is the compassion one feels for a lost soul. Vanadi does not condemn Jonnix to solitary; it is Jonnix who has condemned himself, by his deliberate decision to distribute devices designed to block off those natural ties that link all beings to their fellow men and women. He would have them believe that too much telepathy was a bad thing; that it was better to cut oneself off from society than to seek help from others. Yet even this could be forgiven if he had not acted upon those beliefs. The people had outlawed the manufacture of devices that inhibited their natural telepathy, and Jonnix had therefore acted against the will of the people. It is the worst kind of act in a telepathic society -- it is an *antisocial* act. And there can be only one punishment for this crime. The judge shakes his head in sorrow and pronounces sentence. Tynon Jonnix will be taken to the psychosurgeons, where the telepathic centres of his brain will be excised from his head; and, just as surely, Tynon Jonnix himself will have been excised from the gestalt, and his poisonous beliefs will no longer be a part of the thought pool. "And may God have mercy on your soul," Vanadi says, so moved that he doesn't realise he's actually saying it out loud as well. Jonnix' eyes have settled now. His mind is slack, devoid of thought, numb with disbelief. Even now he will not permit himself to understand that he is about to lose everything. Two officers of the court step forward, the pity they feel plain for all to see, and remove

him from the cubicle. Still numb with shock, he does not resist as they take his arms and gently but firmly escort him away. Angry, happy, satisfied, upset, regretful, sad and confused, the audience gets up to leave. With a grinding like grit in the gears of reality, the TARDIS borrowed some space for itself in a city park. And as the beautiful autumn morning unfolded across the world, more and more people began to wake up Empty.

Chapter Two: "The Power of Many" by Timothy E. Jones *SKREEEE--! SKREEEEE--! SKREEEE--! SHREEEEEE!* The TARDIS made her presence known in the center of the park, in what should have been considered as a Utopia known as Hasek II. But something was deadly wrong, for the TARDIS was called here, something not unusual for the TARDIS. She has sought out on her own many times before, and probably many times again, problems that have suddenly gone wrong. Problems that are usually an end result of some outside force. Not this time though, the Doctor could sense that, as did the TARDIS. There was something more sinister than some outside force bringing these people to a point of oppression. Something way more sinister was bringing these peaceful beings to a point where almost an unanimous cry would reach out to whatever force will bring aide to them. The terror they were experiencing was coming from their own ranks. The door to the TARDIS swung open, and the Doctor with a touch of light gray curly hair, and a look of ageless wisdom stepped out of the TARDIS as he fixed his cloak for about the third time. "Come on Jo, quit dawdli--." The Doctor stopped himself short. She was gone, in the caring hands of Clifford Jones for the rest of her copernal life. The Doctor knew he would be loving and caring to her, but in her leaving a void was left. The Doctor loved her, as much, if not more than he knew Clifford did. Not only was she the perfect companion for him, not only did she always seemed to know all of the right answers, and knew to ask the right questions at the right time (even though he always gave the pretext of sometimes not wanting to know the answers or hear the questions) she always knew when to be loving to him. He loved her, and he knew she loved him. Even though they never made the contact that lovers made with each other, that love was there. Now she was gone, the love remained. Even though she was gone, he expected to look back to see her smiling at him, saying: "I'm not dawdling, I'm just doing something." The answer never came, only the faint hum of the console. The Doctor cried. Never had he cried over the loss of a companion before. Even (under very similar circumstances) when Susan Foreman, his first companion, she of his own blood left, he didn't cry over her. No, he'll never miss another companion as much as Joe Grant. "There will never be a companion quite like you." "But there will be others!" A hand was placed on the Doctor's shoulder. At first the Doctor was stunned, he completely forgot where he was.

He poised himself for whatever was to come next. He looked up at the blank, empty faces. The faces of the people who had come to greet him, not fight him. "Yes." He smiled as he relaxed. "There will be others." "My name is... was Tynon Jonnix." It was at that moment that the Doctor felt the emptiness of the people around him, at first he hoped that he could help them with that emptiness in some way, but how could he? How could he dare help these empty people when he himself had an emptiness within his own soul? "Sorry, I must have left my manners in my ship." The Doctor held out his hand. "I am known as the Doctor." Vanadi sat back in his chair, covered in leather, and hilighted with gold. Pure gold. He looked out the window that sat high above the streets. There were so many below, so many that still needed his "guidance", yet there were just as many who had gotten his guidance. He crossed his arms and took it all in. Those who had gotten his guidance just didn't understand, they were walking around as if they had something taken from them. It was true, they did have something taken from them, but they didn't understand that it was all going to work out for their good. They'll see -- eventually they'd see. He listened, the chanting that was permeating the streets for the past couple of weeks -- no, months -- had ceased. It was almost like a constant form of background music he had gotten to like. The chanting wasn't there. The chanting that was feeding his own psyche, just like the psyche that he had taken from others was feeding his psyche as well had stopped. Had they become content? No. So why had the chanting stopped? Why all of a sudden? He felt afraid. Afraid for the first time since... "We know who you are," Tynon replied. "We called for you." "Oh, I see you used a form of mental powers to call out for me." "I wish it were that simple." Tynon shook his head. "For that is what is gone, our telepathic abilities." "Yet, that is what we used to call you," Annoson replied. "If the telepathic ability has been taken from you, how were you able to use it?" "The power of many, is better than the power of one," Tynon spoke. "He who has emptied us of our ability does not realize that lingering fragments of our ability still remain, but not for long." "I see!" All the Doctor had to do was think of many of the cars back on Earth. The cars in that era of Earth that he was so famaliar with used a combustion fuel, and even when the gas tank reads "empty", sometimes on rare occasions they are able to run on mere fumes, even when the tank is empty. That's what these people did, they used the last remaining fumes of their psyche to gather together as one to summon him for help. "Listen, I am in no position to be of help to you." "You miss her do you not?" "Who?" "Your friend you were calling out for." "Yes, but I will--." "If we help you with your problem, do you promise to help us with our problem?"

"I suppose," the Doctor mused. "I don't want to forget Jo, not in the least, but I don't want to wander around for the next hundred years mourning her loss." "But you can not function to your fullest ability while you mourn her sudden departure, can you?" "I suppose not." "Besides, we only intend to help you with the pain of her loss, not the memory of her." "Alright," the Doctor conceded. Vanadi lead the two soldiers through the streets. He was intent on finding the reason why the chanting had stopped. He had to, he needed the anger of the people outside, just as much as he needed these people's telepathic abilities to add to his own. Without the balance of constant fear, anger, hatred, hope and so forth, he could not add to his abilities. Suddenly, he sensed the reason: an off-worlder. He had a power, and limited telepathic abilities. This off-worlder that he sensed was giving these empty people hope. But hope of what? Certainly not of getting their telepathy back, that was for sure! As he neared the central park, he saw a man he didn't recognize, and in not recognizing him, he knew that this man was the one who was threatening his source of power -- the power to become a god to these people. Vanadi pointed towards the Doctor and frowned, saying nothing. The soldiers knew what to do. The Doctor was led away from the TARDIS by Tynon, towards the secret place. But, sensing a movement behind him that wasn't supposed to be, the Doctor casually turned, and found a club coming down on the side of his head, he fell to the ground.

Chapter Three: "Echo's Answer" by Philip Alderman The Doctor was led away from the TARDIS by Tynon, towards the secret place. But, sensing a movement behind him that wasn't supposed to be, the Doctor casually turned, and found a club coming down on the side of his head, he fell to the ground. The soldier who had used the club hauled the stunned man up by his shirt collar and inspected him, while the other one kept the Empty at bay with an electrified cattle prod. *Unusual,* he reported. *Dressed expensively, not like the rest of them.* *Dangerous,* the other replied. *Why else would Vanadi want him?* *Don't know...* communicated the first one. *Something not quite right, somehow...* He grabbed the old man's jaw between thumb and forefinger and attempted to make contact with the two bleary eyes. While his attention was on the semi-conscious stranger, the cattle-prod holder had taken his eyes off the Empty. One of them, a teenager, made a grab for the weapon. He didn't get far. Guard #2 glimpsed the sudden movement, brought the shaft of the prod

around and delt a swift blow to the boy's forehead. "That's quite enough!" bellowed Guard #2, as others ran to protect the would-be hero. "Get back, freaks!" he added, making the cattle prod spark menacingly for extra emphasis. Meanwhile, Guard #1 had completed his cursory examination of the white-haired stranger. *He's not giving anything away,* he informed his companion. *Still, I'll just give him a quick scan to see if there's anything worth knowing...* *Will the boss appreciate that?* queried Guard #2. *I won't tell him if you won't,* replied Guard #1. And then, he focused his power, his psychic fingers reaching out to touch the stranger's mind, gradually peeling back the layers of his subconcious, to reveal... Something happened. Guard #1 wasn't where he was supposed to be. Suddenly, he found himself back in the Land of Fiction, Zoe grabbing hold of his arm in terror as the Minotaur sought them out. He could feel the beast's hot breath as it approached, hear its terrible roar.... ...and then, Guard #1 broke contact with the stranger. He shook his head (*What the frell was that?*), trying to clear his mind (*Minotaur?*) of the bizarre alien images (*Land of Fiction?!*) that had forced their way into his mind. He opened his eyes. Everything was the same, except now, the strange man was fully conscious. And smiling. "Taking a stroll through my memories were you?" he said. "Not very polite. One does like to be asked, you know." "Quiet!" hissed Guard #1 "Jolly decent of you to help a chap up," continued the man, "but do you think you could possibly let go of me now, there's a good fellow. Got to stand on your own two feet and all that..." *Need a hand with that one?* Guard #2 was saying. *Nothing I can't handle,* Guard #1 responded, giving the stranger the psychic equivalent of a slap to the face. The old man winced with pain, the attack forcing him down onto his knees. "Now now, old fellow, there's no need for violen-" The guard struck again. Tynon Jonnix watched with increasing horror as the first of the two guards continued his mental assault on the Doctor. Even though he and the other Empty had been all but stripped of their psi-powers, they could still sense the sheer punishment being dished out. Even worse, this man was on off-worlder and clearly not condition to living as part of a psychic collective. If the attack continued for much longer, then surely his mind would be destroyed. Jonnix tried to send a communication to the others, begging them to help rescue the Doctor, before realising that his abilities were so reduced he couldn't do that anymore. Old habits die hard. In any case, they wouldn't be willing to risk the cattle prod for the sake of this stranger, and he almost didn't blame them. But at this point, fate intervened. Something happened to Guard #1. He released his grip on the Doctor and fell forward, hands held to his ears. Then he stood up, looked around fear-stricken. "Where did everybody go?" he whispered, a mixture of confusion and panic in his voice. "Why have you all stopped talking?" Realisation dawned, slowly but inevitably. "Not me. No, no, no. Not me. I'm not one of these deviants. Christ, why is it so QUIET?" "Please, try not to panic," the Doctor said, in what he hoped was a

reassuring tone. "It's all very simple. You've succumbed to whatever phenomenon has caused all these people to lose their psychic abilities. Very simply, you have become..." "...Empty? Is that what you think? Well, SAY SOMETHING!" The Doctor frowned. He had only succeeded in making a bad situation worse. "Let us help," said Tynon Jonix, venturing forward with others of the Empty. "It's always traumatic at first, the isolation. Suddenly being cut off from everyone else. We all spent our lives sharing the thoughts, the emotions of others. To have to lose that, the strain is almost unbearable. But it can be dealt with, just let us help you." He reached out a comforting hand to the stricken guard. It was batted away. "I'm not one of you!" he hissed. "Get away from me. I am not Empty!" Jonix sighed. "It's always harder if you fight it. Only when you can accept what has happened will you be able to start your life over again. Please, just trust us." Guard #1 put his head in his hands. The silence.the silence was the worst thing he had ever heard, precisely because he could hear nothing. Never in his life had he not heard the voices, the continuous chatter of a thousand minds, always there with him. Now there was only the silence. And it was deafening. It suddenly occurred to him that he was crying. And all over the world, people found themselves alone, and Empty. Hasek II had long concealed itself from the rest of the Universe. When the first colonists had arrived years ago, they had unanimously decided that the Empire should not interfere in their affairs. To that end, the most powerful psychics has been singled out to form the basis of a "Human Shield", an incredible illusion fuelled by psi-powers that would hide the whole planet, keeping it out of the Empire's reach. It was no mean feat. Each member of the Human Shield would have to live, twenty-five hours a day, plugged directly into the computer system that maintained the disguise. There were a hundred and twenty of them. More than was strictly necessary, but it didn't hurt to take precautions. But on this day, a hundred and twenty was not going to be enough. By mid-morning, seventy of them had been struck down by the strange and terrifying condition that was spreading across the planet, and while they were led away, confused and helpless, the remaining fifty struggled desperately to keep the shield working. But it was to no avail. Already, the planet was attracting attention. Already, messages were finding there way back to the Empire that something bizarre had just appeared on the outer reaches of the galaxy, a planet that seemed to be fading in and out of reality, and which had certainly not been there before. The Empty had crowded round their newest member, plying him with reassurances that he was safe, and among friends. The Doctor noted, with a hint of amusement, that poor man looked as if he wasn't sure whether to pass out or run for his life. Strange how the tormentor had now become a victim. *All very touching.* The Doctor looked around sharply. A voice - a psychic voice. Someone else was watching the proceedings.

A man in official-looking robes was approaching. *My name is Justice Terrix Vanadi,* the man communicated, *and I am very interested in you.* "Oh, for goodness sake," chided the Doctor. "Must we talk on subliminal levels, man? Or have you just forgotten how to speak?" "Very well," replied Vanadi, in the stilted manner of one not used to talking out loud, "whichever way you want to play it. You are an off-worlder, yes?" "An excellent guess, and I'll ask you kindly not to go wandering through my subconscious, my dear sir." The Doctor felt his temper rising. This fellow really brought out the worst in him. "I'm afraid you can't stay. It would be impossible. This world, we keep ourselves to ourselves. The presence of an outsider here, even just one like yourself, threatens the sanctity that we have made here." The Doctor laughed out loud. "I fail to see the humour." "No, it's just, your precious sanctity has already been compromised, hasn't it?" "What do you mean?" "People, all over this world, are losing their abilities. And I imagine that includes whoever is generating that psychic shield you've hidden yourselves behind. I I'm pretty sure you don't need me to explain what this all means." Vanadi didn't even blink. "The Empire, man!" exclaimed the Doctor, exasperated. "They'll be coming here! To reclaim this planet, and all of you as well."

Chapter Four: "Sour Times" by Tony Whitt The Doctor laughed out loud. "I fail to see the humour." "No, it's just, your precious sanctity has already been compromised, hasn't it?" "What do you mean?" "People, all over this world, are losing their abilities. And I imagine that includes whoever is generating that psychic shield you've hidden yourselves behind. I'm pretty sure you don't need me to explain what this all means." Vanadi didn't even blink. "The Empire, man!" exclaimed the Doctor, exasperated. "They'll be coming here! To reclaim this planet, and all of you as well." Tynon strained to hear their conversation over the voices of the Empty even as he lost himself amongst them. They were caring for the man previously known as Guard #1, whose given name they had learned was Jordon. Typical of how far gone this society is, he thought. A man as individual as I am, reduced to a vocational designation. Great Maker forgive me for ever having been a part of all this. Tynon walked cautiously over to the weeping figure and put his arm around his shoulders. Jordon recoiled for a moment -- he obviously had not been able to sense Tynon's presence -- but then he collapsed into the embrace and cried even harder. "I suppose I'll have to get used to that, won't I?" he sobbed.

Tynon nodded and squeezed the man's shoulders. "You will, and after a time it won't be so frightening," he replied. "After a while, you won't be able to believe that you ever experienced things differently. No matter what those bastards tell you, there's nothing unnatural about this. Nothing. Do you understand? This is the way our people always used to communicate, and soon your mind will remember that. It's like riding a hovercycle -- you never really forget." Jordon sighed and nodded ruefully. "Forgive me," he said. "I just never thought it would happen to me..." "Nor did any of us," Tynon replied, scanning the concerned and sympathetic faces of the crowd around him. He marveled at the fact that, even though they were no longer a gestalt in any true sense of the word, they had somehow picked up on his unspoken wishes and had formed a protective circle around the man. He saw nothing but genuine caring for another human being in their eyes, and he wondered how the Full Of It, as he privately referred to the gestalt population, could ever see this as "unnatural." He looked over the shoulders of his friends and saw that the Doctor was still arguing with Vanadi. Amazingly, Vanadi still hadn't recognized him in the crowd. The man had an amazing ability to cut his losses. If he had heard about the Empty rescuing Jonnix from the psychosurgeons just before the procedure was finished, then he hadn't done anything about it. On the other hand, for all Tynon knew, Jordon and his nameless and numbered guard friend had been sent out for just that purpose and had found the Doctor instead. And yet Tynon had still lost his abilities. The last wave of...whatever it was that were causing people to become Empty had hit him during his rescue. The only reason he hadn't gotten stark raving mad was because of his experiences with the telepathic mufflers he had distributed. They'd been meant to prepare people for the shock of being Emptied, and luckily they'd done their work. Unfortunately, the psychosurgeons' work had also been completed, but by an outside source, and Tynon had gotten only a fleeting glimpse of who had done it. Now the Doctor was here -- obviously in response to the call that the Empty had attempted to make. Perhaps they had succeeded after all. Despite his confident words to the Doctor earlier, he still wasn't sure. His mind returned to the present as he saw three more guards moving towards the Doctor and Vanadi's position, cattle prods raised to attack. Damn, he thought. Doubtless these are Guards #3, 4, and 5. "Jordon," Tynon whispered, "I'm afraid we'll need your help before we can help you. What's the quickest way out of here and away from the guards...?" "I don't think I'm making myself very clear to you, sir," the Doctor said darkly, "but I shall try once more. The Empire is certain to notice this planet in the fullness of time, and if you don't let me help you, they're bound to come in force. Even a prattling jackanapes like yourself should be able to see that!" Vanadi sensed the guards coming in response to his telepathic summons and allowed himself to relax inwardly, even as he seethed on the surface. "And I am telling YOU, 'sir,' that we have not requested nor do we require your help. The matter is under control, and we will not have outsiders threatening that control!" "'Under control'?" the Doctor asked. "My dear fellow, you can't be serious. I myself witnessed that poor chap over there" -- he gestured towards the crowd of Empties, subconsciously noticing Tynon Jonnix ducking his head suddenly -- "succumb suddenly to the same 'condition' that you supposedly are trying to control. Now, if I had a proper

laboratory and some telepathic triangulation equipment, I might be able to trace the source of the effect." "Source? Doctor, you make it sound as if there's someone behind all this." "Isn't it obvious that there must be, sir?" the Doctor replied. He noticed the guards walking closer and put himself into a rarely used Venusian aikido telepathic defensive posture. They would not be able to see it nor sense it, but he was ready for them this time. He was somewhat dismayed that it hadn't worked last time. "Telepathic abilities don't simply vanish overnight," he continued. "Even diseases which affect psi abilities generally have other effects, and I don't see one person in this entire group who shows those symptoms. Either you allow me to help you, sir, or this situation can only get worse!" As if on cue, two of the guards behind Vanadi suddenly dropped their prods and looked about in astonishment. "What happened?" one of them moaned. "Why did everyone stop talking?" At that same moment, the Doctor felt a crashing wave of loss and pain. Jo. The pain of losing her gripped at his hearts, and he found himself dangerously near tears again. His Venusian aikido telepathic defensive posture fell apart in an instant, like a house of cards. The grief was crushing, completely overwhelming. He felt hands on his arms and shoulders and heard Tynon's voice: "Now, Doctor! They'll be distracted until the effect wears off. Come with us!" Hiding his tear-streaked face from the crowd of people around him, the Doctor allowed himself to be herded blindly along to safety. Throughout the city, another 300 people were suddenly Emptied. Seventeen of those were plugged into the Human Shield. The remaining thirty-three telepaths suffered massive feedback from the strain of trying to keep the Shield intact. Five of them suffered cardiac arrest, twenty of them experienced severe cerebral haemorrhages, and the rest went into neural shock. The Shield fell, soundlessly and explosively. Far across space, the Empire's scanners, already trained on the planet's position, flared with life as they detected a world that had never been there before. With the cold efficiency that had kept her Empire together for far too long, the Empress issued commands for light ships to be dispatched to that sector immediately. Two of her advisors inadvisedly told her that the ships could not be prepared that quickly, and she just as efficiently gave orders for them to be executed on the spot. The light ships began preparations for the trip to Hasek II. Vanadi arranged with the remaining guard to have the two Empties processed and then thrown out. By the time he remembered the Doctor, the man had gone. Silently, he called out for search teams to find the offworlder immediately. If the Doctor could truly find the source of all these troubles, then he could be more dangerous than anything even the Empire could do. After several hours of dodging guards, Tynon and his group arrived safely at "the secret place," an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. As one of the Empty slid open the huge metal door, Tynon said, "None of THEM cares about what happens to the Empty when they lose

their abilities, so they can live wherever they want, as long as it's out of sight." He looked guiltily at his fellow Empty and sighed. "Sorry -- WE can live wherever we want. Force of habit." As they were led into the warehouse, he added, "Even though I've been preparing for something like this for quite a while now, it's still a bit of a mental adjustment." Jordon nodded solemnly. The Doctor gave Tynon a puzzled look. "Hang on a minute, old chap... When you first approached me coming out of the TARDIS, you sounded like you were the leader of this group." "Not quite," Tynon replied. He guided the Doctor and Jordon to a pair of worn plastic chairs and moved to an area which had obviously been remade into a kitchenette. In spite of himself, the Doctor got up and surveyed his surroundings. The space was huge, but the Empty had sectioned it off into small sleeping areas and sitting rooms by using large slats of corrugated metal. This must have been one of the places where the colony originally stored all of its building materials, he thought. Amazing, how warehouses looked the same inside, no matter where or when. Tynon continued to talk as he arranged cups on a tray. "I was brought up on charges a few days ago of antisocial behaviour. They caught me distributing telepathic mufflers. I was trying to prepare people for their eventual...well, Emptying, I guess you'd call it. The problem had become so widespread over the last several months that I was certain our entire population would eventually fall prey to it, and my researches were showing that the trauma was causing people to commit suicide rather than seeking out help from others amongst the Empty." A man behind Tynon busied himself with what looked like an old-style tea kettle, and the smell of something not quite unlike Darjeeling filled the musty air. "I couldn't allow myself to be a party to that, especially given the fact that we'd all have to pull together if we were going to fend off the Empire." The Empty around the room stopped what they were doing and looked at him admiringly. He gave them a self-conscious smile and continued. "The Empty heard of my efforts and made contact with me ages ago. Up until I lost my position, I tried to help them as much as I could, and in return, they allowed me to participate in their calls for help. We hoped that someone telepathic and sympathetic to our cause would come to our aid -- and it looks like you did." The Doctor smiled. "Or rather, my TARDIS did, the sentimental old thing. I'm glad she brought me, though." He scratched his face with one finger. "Just out of curiosity, my dear fellow, what did you do before you were brought to trial?" Tynon brought out the completed tea tray and set it before the Doctor and Jordon. "Oh, I was Vanadi's Court Psychologist." In another part of the city, in a darkened apartment, a shadowy figure eased itself into a cross between a dentist's chair and a hospital bed. A crownlike affair with several blinking lights hung suspended from a thick cable just above where the figure's head rested on a cushion. It reached up and pulled the coronet downward on its skull and flicked a few switches on the side of the couch. The power began to build, and the figure awaited the moment of combined pain and bliss with equally combined trepidation and eagerness. Barret was excited.

She had never believed that her specially trained

stealth squad would ever get an assignment like this. After all, what was the point of a stealth squad in a society in which everyone could sense the presence of everyone else? But orders had come from above several months ago to begin training such a team, and now she saw the reason why. Though what anyone in the government wanted with a group of Empties, she had no idea. She called out commands to her men, confidant that the targets would be unable to hear her. It would be nice to have some way of knowing that the Empty were truly inside the warehouse, but since they didn't really exist, there was no way to detect them except by sound. To that end, she and her troopers were wearing aural enhancers, designed specifically to pick up human vocal patterns at a distance. "Human vocal patterns," indeed, she thought. The Empty weren't human. Anyone knew that. She felt the men follow her instructions to move in towards the building. One of them had just told her that he'd heard definite voices from the northeast corner of the building, next to one of the massive sliding doors. She asked for a confirmation from another trooper and got it. Nodding grimly, she then commanded the squad to cover the exits lest anyone should try to escape. As they moved forward, laser rifles armed and ready, she reminded the troopers that there were only two Empties inside that needed to be taken alive. She relayed her mental pictures of the two Empties once more: the offworlder and one other, name unimportant. Everyone else, she reminded them, could be terminated. They weren't real people, after all. Draining the last of his tea, the Doctor marveled at the state of Tynon's makeshift laboratory, at the back of the warehouse. Tynon had been coming here for several months to produce and distribute the telepathic mufflers, and it appeared to the Doctor that his abilities went far beyond that of the typical psychologist. "How did you manage to...erm, borrow all this equipment?" the Doctor asked, picking up a very delicate cortical scanner. "I gather that's it's rather difficult to take anything without permission in a society of gestalt telepaths." "True enough, Doctor," Tynon replied. "But not if you're wearing a telepathic muffler, like this one." He handed the Doctor a slice about two inches in length of what looked like human skin. The Doctor turned it over to reveal a thin layer of electronic circuitry, most of which he recognized as neural limiters and cortical bypasses. He handed it back to Tynon with a nod and a murmur of approval. "These adhere to the skin just below the ear, and they're almost undetectable. That's why it was so easy to distribute them...until the effects started coming more and more rapidly." "Yes, I've been meaning to ask you about that," the Doctor said. "I noticed a sudden crushing wave of despair just as those two guards lost their abilities." He scratched his face and frowned as he remembered the sensation. "It was similar to what outside the TARDIS just as I arrived. Terrible, overwhelming feelings of loss, like I've never encountered before." "Exactly, Doctor...and at that level of pain, you were broadcasting your emotions clearly enough that we could pick them up from you," Tynon replied. "That wave of emotions you felt was the effect -- it somehow acts on certain centres of the brain associated with feelings of intense loss and pain and shorts out the telepathic functions. In an offworlder like yourself, it seems to increase such feelings. That's how we knew about...her."

Tynon averted his eyes, but the Doctor wasn't embarrassed. In fact, things were becoming a lot clearer to him. The crushing despair he'd felt regarding Jo when he'd first stepped out of the TARDIS was so...uncharacteristic of him, it was surprising. Certainly, he missed her, and he felt no differently than he had in the TARDIS before arriving here, but...tears, Doctor? he asked himself. Tears of despair and hopeless? Calm down, he told himself. Where there's life, there's hope, after all. Jo has moved on with her life, and you must move on with yours. "Yes," he said out loud, and then noticed Tynon looking at him curiously. "Yes," he continued, clearing his throat, "the effect must have intensified my feelings about my recent loss. Perhaps the TARDIS homed in on the effect because it mirrored my own feelings so much. I take it you sent out your own distress calls during those periods?" "It seemed to be the only way to do it properly," Tynon replied, taking another sip of tea. "Had we tried broadcasting at any other time, the gestalt would've been able to pick up our efforts, as feeble as they are. But the power of many..." "...is better than the power of one, yes, yes, old chap," the Doctor finished. "Obviously, it worked. Now, do you have any ideas as to the source of this effect?" "Just an afterimage when I was...Emptied," Tynon replied, all of his upsurge of confidence gone in a twinkling. "There's someone behind this. One person. I don't know what his motives are, but I got the sense of one mind behind it all." Tynon closed his eyes against the memory. "Doctor, I meant what I said at your ship -- you can't go on with these feelings of loss, and every time that effect occurs, you'll feel that much worse, and more of my people will lose any hope of staying free of the Empire. By helping us, we can help you." He opened his eyes and fixed them on the Doctor's. "Please help us." The figure sensed that the power had risen to its maximum and pressed the shiny, candy like button on the side of the couch. The power coursed through the coronet, and the figure screamed in agony. The Doctor opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly an image of Jo swam before his eyes. He suddenly felt so betrayed, as if he had lost a granddaughter yet again. Was he destined to always say goodbye to those he loved the most? He felt the tears welling in his eyes again, and then he realized what was happening. "The effect," he said hoarsely, trying not to let the tears fall. "Good grief, it's happening again! Hand me that muffler, man, quickly!" Tynon held the device out to him, but before he could grab it, an explosion rocked the building, and several screams filled the air. In the ensuing din, it was impossible to tell whether the screams were coming more from inside the warehouse or from somewhere outside...

Chapter Five: "The Cancer Within" by K. Michael Wilcox An explosion rocked the building, and several screams filled the air. In the ensuing din, it was impossible to tell whether the screams were coming more from inside the warehouse or from somewhere outside.

"What's happening?" Tynon asked incredulously. "A raid," the Doctor told him. He looked around the laboratory. "Is there another way out?" Tynon wasn't paying attention. He was staring at the window between the lab and the warehouse floor. Though blinds blocked his view of the action, flashes of brilliant multi-coloured light shone through. "What on..." The Doctor grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around. "Is there a back way out of here?" "Uh, uh, under that workbench." Tynon's wavering hand pointed toward a back corner." "Good man," the Doctor said. He ducked under the bench and lifted the hatch. "Well, come on!" The Imperial Heavy Battle Cruiser Temujin had begun decelerating long before it entered the system. Now they were inside the orbit of the fourth planet, they were moving slow enough for the onboard sensors to scan the second, which seemed to be the only settled world. Captain Dana Vonuselani'i reluctantly called for the ship's telepath to be let up to the bridge. The captain hated the telepath with a passion. Precious few captains in the fleet would ever willingly allow one on their ship, but she steadfastly refused to believe that there was another as vehement as she was. Which was, of course, exactly why the brass chose the Temujin to be the one ship in the Seventy-Fifth Space Fleet to have a telepath assigned to it. Vonuselani'i did what she could by limiting his access, especially to the officers' deck and the bridge. But it had been the telepath's presence -- Vonuselani'i refused to even think of him as a person -- that had been behind the decision to send her ship into the system first, ahead of ships that had been nearer. Exactly why, though, she hadn't been told. A moment later, the main doors hissed open, and she heard him walk up behind her. "You called?" he asked. The captain didn't even bother turning around. "You sense the planet yet?" The hatch under the workbench had led to a tunnel, which itself led to an alley several blocks from the warehouse. The Doctor pulled Tynon up out of the tunnel, then dusted him off. "You alright, old chap?" The former psychologist had been almost catatonic during the escape, and the Doctor had to drag him along. Now, he snapped his fingers in front of Tynon's face. The Hasek native blinked, then shuddered as if just awakening. "What was..." "Lasers," the Doctor told him, "rifles, most likely. You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?" Tynon shook his head. As the Doctor tried to explain, it became apparent that range weapons of any sort were alien to him. Indeed, beyond the guards' batons, all offensive weapons had long since slipped from public consciousness -- which, on a world of telepaths, was a very literal thing. "Fascinating." Barret smashed the butt of her rifle into a rack of glass phials, then swept it across the table, shattering the rest of equipment on it. "He's not here!" she screamed. She stormed out of the laboratory to the warehouse floor, where her

troops were herding the surviving Empties into the centre of the room. She strode over to them and grabbed an Empty at random. "Where is the offworlder?" The woman said nothing. "Answer me!" Barret demanded, shoving her to the ground and pointing her rifle between the woman's eyes. "No." The response hung in the air for a second before Barret pulled the trigger. "Kill them all," she said. The soldiers raised their guns. "That's murder!" one of the Empties, a man in a guard's uniform, shouted. Barret raised her hand. "Wait. Leave them for now. Except that one." Jean Goulet liked visiting the bridge. Maybe he had a masochistic streak, but he enjoyed basking in the waves of undiluted hatred that flowed from the captain's ample Samoan frame. There was a warmth to it. "You sense anything or not?" she asked. Jean stepped past her to the front of the bridge and concentrated. Within a second, he felt it, and he nearly lost his balance. "It's massive," he whispered, staggering back. "What?" Vonuselani'i snapped. "Y-yes. It's bigger than anything I've ever felt before." He smiled like a true believer in the presence of his god. "It's a telepathic gestalt. This is so neat." The heat radiating from the captain shot up at the mention of telepathy. Outwardly, she huffed. "Can the commentary and tell me what this means." "It means that the society is almost -- almost -- like a hive mind. Thoughts can ripple around the planet in moments. It's... oh, no. It's dying." "Huh?" "Around the world, people are losing their telepathy, dropping out of the gestalt. There's panic; everything's breaking down." For the first time since Jean had come to the bridge, Vonuselani'i smiled. "Good." Barret paced around the circle of prisoners. She wanted to use them to lure the offworlder to her, but she didn't know how. She didn't know where he was, and the secrecy surrounding her unit precluded a public announcement of the capture. So far all she'd been able to do was throw the dead Empties outside and set them ablaze. Suddenly, a skylight directly above her shattered, and a figure dropped through. As one, the guards raised their rifles to aim at the figure. As they did, the Empties took advantage of the distraction to swarm over them. The cord along which the figure was descending reached its full length eight feet off the ground, and he immediately opened his harness and dropped the rest of the way. He landed in front of Barret and sprang to his feet. "Hi-yaaah!" He brought his hand down in a chop, knocking the rifle from her hands. As it clattered to the ground, she felt two more press against her throat. The offworlder smiled. "Hello, I'm the Doctor." Leading a small group of new Empties he and the Doctor had recruited,

Tynon entered the warehouse to find his friends were already holding the soldiers prisoner. One, presumably the leader, was standing apart from the others, and the Doctor was walking around her. "Why?" the Doctor asked. "Why all this senseless violence?" "You talk as if they were human," the woman said. "Of course they're human!" the Doctor snapped. "You... you're just a soldier, aren't you? Just following orders. Whose? Who gave you these weapons?" The woman spit at the Doctor, but he nimbly stepped aside. He circled around behind her, then stopped. "Even in a society of telepaths, someone think he has to create a secret police. But I'm curious; how does he do it?" He grabbed the collar of her uniform in both hands and wrenched it down and away, tearing a gash that went halfway down her back. "Tynon, those mufflers you created, did they look anything like this?" Tynon looked at the device clamped to the back of the woman's neck. "Something like that, yes. But this is a lot more sophisticated." "I expected as much. I also expect each of the soldiers has one." The rest of the unit were checked, and the suspicion confirmed. "Let's take care of this right now, shall we?" The Doctor removed the woman's muffler, and others took off the rest. As one, the soldiers screamed. Shock and revulsion rippled through the minds of the populace as knowledge of the stealth soldiers' existence -- and who was responsible -- spread. Someone they had trusted had so fundamentally betrayed them. Within seconds, everyone knew. For many, this was the last thought they shared with the gestalt, as a fresh wave of Emptiness followed right after. Vonuselani'i found the idea of telepaths losing their power very satisfying. It was . Besides, from a practical perspective, it would make organised defence that much less likely. "What about weapons? What kind of resistance can we expect?" she asked the telepath. "Almost none. Until recently, this was almost a utopia. There's no military structure, and their law enforcement only use non-lethal melee weapons. I doubt they even know what guns are." The captain was disappointed. Now she didn't have an excuse for calling in her heavily armed shock troops. "Laser weapons?" the telepath whispered. "What was that?" "Umm, nothing," he stammered. Vonuselani'i rose from her seat. "What are you hiding from me?" she screamed. "I... I... I sensed something about lasers. I don't think it means anyth..." She called to her first officer. "Prepare the shock troops. If they meet any resistance, any at all, tell them they are authorised and encouraged to use lethal force."

Chapter Six: "Absolute Loneliness Corrupts Absolutely" by Jeff Beuck

Hedan Sonada, Chief Coordinator of the Hasek Human Shield, and Lead Guardian of the People of Hasek II, shut off the power to the Telepathically Amplified Psychic Emitter, removed the coronet, and sighed in disgust. He had been too late. That damned Barret had failed him and revealed the secret of her team's employment to the entire populace. Now everyone knew that he had hired his own little secret police squad and authorized them -- illegally -- to use telepathic mufflers among the people. It was only a matter of time before the People came for him and discovered the fact that he had been behind the mass Emptyings of the population and the destruction of the Human Shield, too. And he had been so close to his goal. With the Human Shield shut down, the last Emptying had destroyed the psychic abilities of over half the population. He rose to his feet and looked through the narrow glass window into the TAPE room. The excised telepathic neural matter of a thousand Empty linked together in a cyber-organic array pulsated in time to the cyborg heart that kept it functional. Its throbbing was almost hypnotic. Sometimes he would stare at it for hours, letting his mind wander free and listen to the orderly, machine-like thoughts emanating from it. He quickly shook his head to clear it. It was decision time. Either he destroyed all the evidence now and fled the planet, or waited for one last recharge that would Empty the rest of the population and give him total psychic control. Matters had been complicated even more by the arrival of a ship from the Empire. He had detected it entering the Hasek system some hours ago, and before disconnecting from the TAPE he had detected a telepath on board who had inadvertently broadcast thoughts about a strike force being sent down to the planet. He tapped his fingers against the glass, then turned around and walked to the outside window of his fifth-story office. Stroking his mustache nervously, he looked down to see if the authorities were coming for him yet. There were no signs of Guards or angry mobs yet... perhaps the last wave of Emptiness had disoriented the populace just enough to make them think they had more important problems on their mind than coming after the creator of an illegal stealth squad. In an instant, he made his decision. Striding to the TAPE terminal, he checked its power levels. Almost completely drained. Just enough to maintain the psychic "unreality" cloak around his office. It would be some time before it recharged itself enough to be used as a weapon again. Perhaps one or two hours. Hopefully it would be long enough. Justice Vanadi shook his head as he looked out from his courthouse window over Philton Square. What was Hasek II coming to? First had been the rise of dissidents who wanted to cut themselves off voluntarily from humanity, then came the plague of Emptiness that was slowly eradicating the planet's way of life just as the Dalek plagues had done to Earth several centuries ago; add to that a dangerous off-worlder who was trying to secure the source of the Emptiness Plague and give it to the Empty to use to eradicate what remained of humanity on their world, and now the corruption of the planet's chiefmost Guardian, a man who subversively allowed the forces who protected the planet to use illegal devices that would ultimately destroy all that they held dear. Animals, the lot of them. Vanadi sent a general summons to all of Hasek City's guards. Less than half responded. The rest must have lost their humanity. Maker have pity on what remained of their souls, he thought to himself.

*Attention, Guards, this is Justice Terrix Vanadi. As you are no doubt aware, Coordinator Sonada has employed an illegal strike force armed with...* here he sent an empathic burst of revulsion, *telepathic mufflers. Justice must be served. Bring him to the courthouse. Use any means necessary. He must be made to answer for his crime.* Looking out of the window, he saw a scattering of Guards turn toward the Human Shield Complex in the west, ready to obey his order. Listening to the now fewer voices of the guards and other governmental workers in the area, it soon became clear that no one was really sure where Sonada was, or even where exactly in the Shield Complex his office was. Apparently, the few people who knew of his whereabouts had been made Empty. They would have to conduct the search without the guidance of the People. Vanadi sighed and slumped into his chair. It was going to be a long wait. The Doctor watched, deep in thought, as the overwhelming forces of the Empty tied up Barret's Stealth Squad and watched over them using the Squad's own lasers. "Here, Doctor," Jordon interrupted, handing him a laser rifle appropriated from the Squad. The Doctor turned to him and frowned angrily. "I never touch guns. And you shouldn't either. Violence is often the easiest solution to one's problems, but never the best." He waved Jordon away, but Jordon stood his ground. "Look, Doctor, someone is deliberately destroying our society. In the past few hours, I've lost everything that I once thought made me human. That's a difficult change to cope with at the best of times. But now, I find that our government, an organization I once trusted, is arming people with illegal weapons and illegal muffling devices, crimes for which they would have cut out the psychic lobes in any ordinary citizen. I don't know what is going on anymore. I've been reduced to the state of an animal, and like an animal, my only struggle at the moment is to survive." He hefted the rifle in front of him. "This is how I intend to do that." Tynon listened to the argument with sympathy in his eyes. The Doctor turned to him. "I suppose you want to carry a gun with you, too?" he accused. Tynon shook his head. "I'm not a violent man. I agree with you. There's a better way to solve this problem. For the time being, we Empty need to find a way to work together in a new social order. And I still have faith in you that you can help us." The Doctor clapped him on the shoulder. "That's more like it!" He scratched his chin for a moment. "The attacks of Emptiness are happening more and more frequently. It may not be long now before the next one, and we probably don't have much time before the rest of the populace is affected." "Would that necessarily be a bad thing?" Tynon asked. The Doctor stared into the distance. "I don't know. I honestly don't. If the potential exists for the Telepaths and the Empty to live in harmony, then yes, it will be a bad thing. But if the rift is too great and conflict between the two sides are inevitable, then maybe you're right... maybe you're right." The Doctor turned to them. "I'm going back to my TARDIS to retrieve my telepathic triangulation equipment. With it, hopefully we can determine the source of the Emptiness attacks and put a stop to them before whoever is behind them succeeds in completing whatever world-altering plan he has devised."

"I'll come with you," Jordon said. "You may need my protection. Remember, there are a lot of people out there looking for you." He lifted his gun again. The Doctor frowned. Two transport shuttles of Imperial Shock Troopers began their descent toward Hasek II's capitol city. Goulet, the Temujin's telepath, had identified the urban center -- known to the locals as Hasek City -- as the planet's center of government from the rapidly diminishing stray thoughts he picked up from the planet's surface. In his office, Sonada paced nervously, looking out the window every few minutes for signs of the People's Guards. He was beginning to see them now, accumulating in the street below, questioning Empty passers-by. His time was short. He ran over to the TAPE Terminal and checked its recharge progress. Too slow. There was barely enough power for a focused telepathic burst. He had to hold out a little bit longer. He needed enough power to Empty the rest of the population and to subjugate them to his will. He briefly considered turning up the recharge rate, but that might overload the TAPE, much like the Human Shield had been overloaded. Darting back to the window, he saw people pointing toward his building. They were coming inside. He still had some time before they stumbled upon his shielded office. Hopefully time enough. He strode quickly to the couch that housed the TAPE interface, lay down upon it, and pulled the coronet over his temple. Reaching out in scan mode, he felt a small number of Guards searching the building. They hadn't reached his floor yet; even when they did, not sensing anyone inside, they might just pass him by a few times. Suddenly, something even more interesting drew his attention. Two shuttles of Empty, armed, Imperial soldiers were descending toward the city. In a stroke of genius, he devised the solution to all of his problems. It was all so easy. If only he had time to implement it. Turning on power to the TAPE, he began to focus on the minds of the soldiers in the shuttles. They were primitive animals, easily bent to his will. Nothing in the world could stop him now, bar a lucky find by one of the guards. Soon he would have all the protection he needed while the TAPE recharged to full power... after that, he would have total control of the planet, the Imperial ship in orbit, and if he played his cards correctly, even the entire Earth Empire. The Doctor emerged from the blue box carrying a handful of electronic equipment. He handed some of it to Jordon. "Hold that for me, there's a good chap." Placing a clump of wiring between his teeth, the Doctor untangled some twisted connections, turned on a few switches, and reoriented a small view screen on top of what appeared to be a homemade lash-up of some kind. "Go stand over there, on the other side of the square. The further apart we are, the better the triangulation we'll get." Jordon wasn't sure exactly what the Doctor was doing, but he was willing to do anything to help put an end to the Emptiness his life had become. After a few minutes, Jordon noticed lights begin to flash on the antenna-like device he was holding. He noticed the Doctor aiming its companion device back and forth and up and down until it finally came to

rest pointing toward one of the buildings in the mighty Shield Complex nearly a mile away. The Doctor waved Jordon over, and as Jordon approached, the Doctor pointed to some indecipherable figures on his screen. "There you go! This will lead us directly to the source of the psychic disturbance. Odd, though; the disturbance seemed to be highly localized this time, rather than affecting everyone in a broad sweep the way it did before. We probably don't have much time. Let's get moving." "Wait, Doctor -- your device is pointing toward the Shield Complex. It's highly guarded. We'll need all the help we can get from the Empty to force our way in." "Nonsense. What did I tell you about violence? I've found that it's much easier to break into unauthorized areas... alone." For a moment, he had almost said "with my friend, Jo," but he caught himself in time. "Come along, dear fellow. No time to waste." Hesitating for a moment, Jordon considered, then trotted after the Doctor, still holding the strange piece of electronic equipment. A mental murmuring arose among the Telepaths in the vicinity of the Shield Complex as a transport shuttle descended from the sky and landed in the street before it. The curiosity of the people quickly turned to fear, however, as endless numbers of Imperial troopers in white armor began to pour out from its hold. Moving as one, the Shock Troopers jogged up to the central building of the Complex. Half of them formed an impassable line in front of the entrance; the rest disappeared into the building. The People ducked for cover and hid themselves, not wishing to risk the animal ferocity of the sub- humans from off-planet. Inside the building, groups of Shock Troopers broke off and established themselves at key points in the building. Any Guards they came across were mercilessly shot down. At last, the lead team came straight to Sonada's shielded office and knocked on the door. "Come in," a voice responded from within. The troopers opened the door to see Sonada reclining on his couch, TAPE coronet around his head. He turned to face them. "Thank you for arriving so promptly. No one is to enter this office -- no, make that 'this building' -- for the next three hours. Kill anyone who attempts to do so. Is that understood?" The Shock Troopers raised fists to their chests in the formal Imperial salute. "Erm... very good," Sonada acknowledged. "Go to it." Two Shock Troopers stationed themselves outside the door to the office; the others departed to defend other areas of the building. Sonada closed his eyes and smiled. The minds of the Imperial Troopers were all under his power. All he had to do now was wait.

Chapter Seven: "And Pay the Thunder No Mind" by Mary Hyde Coordinator Hedan Sonada closed his eyes and smiled. The minds of every Imperial Trooper on Hasek II were under his power. All he had to do now was wait. Sonada settled the coronet more firmly onto his head and glanced at the energy levels. Seventy-eight percent. Soon, he thought, relaxing into the chair. Very soon.

He fidgeted as the wait continued, mulling over the fact that he had nearly lost control of his best pawn when the truth about the stealth squad had been made known. Still, it would take little to stroke and inflate the egotistical delusions that shaped the man's thoughts, and regain the upper hand. And the gestalt would never even notice the difference. They hadn't before. Such a pity that the Empty had ceased their daily chanting and protesting in Philton Square. The minor but persistent disorientation that they had sparked in the group psyche had made the takeover of Justice Vanadi so very, very easy. Sonada had almost not needed to use the TAPE. Jean Goulet sat cross-legged in a dark corner of the munitions cabinet. He could have mentally blinded the troopers on the shuttle, as he had done with the captain, but there was no need. And this seat was as comfortable as any other on the crowded transport. Vonuselani'i wouldn't notice he was missing for some time, and probably wouldn't care when she did. Good riddance! he could imagine her saying. Goulet was used to that sort of reaction. It was basic human nature to react with fear to anything better, stronger or more powerful. Why, wasn't the Empress herself feared? He smiled at the sudden roar of the force fields as the shuttle entered the atmosphere. Not long now. The last wave of Emptying had not spared even the soldiers from the stealth squad who had burst into the warehouse. Vryan had secretly rejoiced when Barret had succumb, clutching her head in her hands as though she could keep her hold on the Mind of the People with brute strength. Yes, he had rejoiced that she now shared their plight. That is until he had seen her eyes. Sickened. Terrified. Suicidal. Tynon Jonnix had needed to restrain her for her own safety. He had then sent the Empty out into the streets in pairs, telling them to seek out and gather whoever had been afflicted. So it was that Vryan found himself walking through a familiar part of the city with a man named Simmons, looking for anyone who might be Empty. They weren't hard to find. Usually standing alone with wide, frightened eyes and trembling hands, already shunned by those who were still part of the Mind, the Hasekans newborn to the full silence of individuality stood out like vast rocks in a bubbling stream. He and Simmons had just given the address of the warehouse to a bewildered couple when his eyes fell on the woman. Dressed in her crisp, dark work uniform, her short blond hair fell over her face as she sat hunched and sobbing along the walkway. Vryan's heart twisted in sympathy. Alexis. She flinched as the man crouched down beside her, looking up in confusion as he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. The deep fear-filled hurt in her dark eyes announced the fact more loudly than words. The Disaster had struck her too. She was Empty. "Oh Vryan," she whimpered in a rough, erratic voice. Sobbing anew, she fell into her husband's arms. It had only taken a moment for the Doctor to create a rather noisy

diversion to get them into the Shield Complex. Uncharacteristically, the troopers at the door had hesitated as though unsure what to do. A moment later however, they rounded the corner of the building to check out the disturbance. Cape flying behind him, the Doctor dashed toward the entrance, Jordon scampering just to keep pace with the old man. Checking that no other soldiers were waiting for them just inside, the two men crept through the door. They had managed to evade most of the troopers and get to the second floor. On the one occasion when they were trapped in an open stretch of hallway, the Doctor had quickly dispatched the single soldier with a sharp shuto strike to the neck where the man's body armor came together poorly. The Doctor frowned as he turned back, rubbing the edge of his hand where it had glanced off the hard armor. "Jordon," he said quietly, flattening himself against the wall. "Go up to the next intersection and wait for me, there's a good chap." Barely breathing, the Doctor waited as the Hasekan complied, his body as still and his thoughts as inert as the wall behind him. A moment later, a man in a purple and gold Imperial uniform crept past him. Grabbing the man in an unbreakable wrist hold, the Doctor forced him to his knees and relieved him of his gun. He took note of the emblem of a large stylized 'eye' on the man's chest that signified him as one of the Empress' telepaths. "Very impressive! I didn't even sense you," the human laughed, despite the pain he must be feeling. "I am Jean Goulet, currently assigned to the Imperial Heavy Battle Cruiser Temujin. Are all of the people on this planet as talented as you at shielding their minds?" "I've no idea. I'm not from this planet." Loosening the tension in the hold, but not releasing the man altogether, the Doctor conducted him toward the intersection. "I'm known as the Doctor," he said, "and this is Jordon. Now why would the captain send the ship's telepath down with a shuttle-full of foot soldiers?" "Who said that she did." Goulet grinned. "I was curious. I've never encountered a planet where everyone is a telepath." The Doctor let go of the man's arm. "You've nearly cut it too fine to assuage your curiosity, I'm afraid." His eyes scanned over the telepath's uniform. "Perhaps you'd be useful getting us through the building." Goulet smoothed a hand down over the 'eye' emblem. "The troopers minds are being influenced, so I doubt that," he said, peering at the Doctor intently. "My dear fellow, that's terribly impolite." The Doctor returned the human's studied blank look with a piercing gaze. "Poking about in a chap's mind like that. And without an invitation! Really!" Shaking his head, he resumed his careful progress along the corridor. A tiny controlled smile flickered over the telepath's lips as he crept along beside the Doctor. "And you've never done that?" The Doctor paused at the next doorway. "I'll have you know," he told Goulet, "that I keep most of my thoughts to myself. And I usually try to let others do the same." Captain Dana Vonuselani'i walked back and forth around the Temujin's bridge. She was well aware that it was a mild distraction to the crew, but did it anyway. They were all highly trained, the best of the Empire's best. Leaning over the Navigator's station, she consulted the ship-wide chronometer. The shuttle had gone down to the planet over an hour ago.

She turned to the woman currently on duty at the Communications station. "What is the status of the away mission?" The officer quickly consulted the records. "They reported in when they first set down, and again when they entered the building, Captain." She bent over the controls, sending a terse request for an update. After a moment, she looked back up. "No response, sir." Vonuselani'i peered over the woman's shoulder. "Is there a problem with your equipment, lieutenant?" A brief scowl passed over the communications officer's face at the slight insult, but was quickly suppressed. "There are no alerts coming up on the panel," she responded crisply. Her fingers hovered over the controls. "Permission to run diagnostics, sir." "You do that." Vanadi mused over the imminent capture of Hedan Sonada. Surely his guards had taken the Shield Complex by now. Unfortunately, with the strong surge of emotions buffeting the Mind of the People, he couldn't yet be certain. Once the Coordinator had been judged and separated from the People, then things could settle down again. The undercurrents of concern and outrage he felt in the Mind would disappear. And the People would thank him, Justice Terrix Vanadi, for ridding their minds and their lives of this individual's deception. His taint. Perhaps their gratitude might even propel him into the highest office, that of Chief Executor of Hasek II. Vanadi leaned back in his gilt chair and basked in the imagined glory. One hundred percent. The TAPE was now at full power. Sonada made certain that the crown-like headset was firmly settled on his head, then leaned down to press the button that would activate the device. His body arching in agony against the couch as his mind began its sweep through the dwindling gestalt of minds. Soon everyone would be Empty. Confused. Powerless. Except him. A young, blond, slip of a girl suddenly appeared out of nowhere before the Doctor, crouched down in a doorway. She looked back with a tiny smile that wrenched at his hearts with a profound grief. Her delicate hand flicked out, motioning him forward. Jo. She was so perfect, so real. Every detail. A tear ran down the Doctor's face. A sob echoed behind him and the Doctor realized that Goulet was crying, mumbling incoherent words filled with pain and loss. A distant part of his mind noted that the Earthling wasn't immune to the affects of the Emptying either. He was about to go back to the man, when a dark smudge entered the periphery of his vision. A trooper had come around the corner, blast rifle held in front of him. And Jo had her back to the man! She couldn't see! She wouldn't know in time! "Jo! Get back!" With a wild 'kiai', the Doctor flew past the girl, easily dodging the trooper's predictable shots. Ignoring the rifle, he raised a hand toward the man's face. It never even made contact. The sheer intent of his attack was more than enough to shove the trooper backwards, where he impacted heavily against the wall. His body slid to the floor in an unconscious heap.

"It's all right, Jo. You can co-" the Doctor bit off the words and sighed. Jo Grant was on Earth, planning her wedding. And while he missed her terribly, there were others that needed him now. He shut his eyes. The Emptying still flowed over and around his mind, but it wasn't influencing him any longer. "Of course!" The Doctor's eyes flashed open with sudden understanding. When the Guards had assaulted him and again when the stealth squad had stormed the warehouse, he had somehow shaken off the Emptying's sway. It had to be the effect of stress hormones, activating the deepest survival instincts in the mind. Overwhelming his emotional center. The Doctor strode over to the sobbing telepath, crouching down beside him. With a resigned reluctance, he cupped his fingers around the angle of the man's jaw, his thumbs resting lightly against his windpipe. And then he squeezed. The reaction was almost immediate. Goulet jerked upright, his eyes huge with fear. And anger. His fist moved in a smooth, rehearsed arc toward the Doctor's head. The Doctor leaned back and let the blow sail past him as he released his grip on the man. "Feeling better now?" he asked. Goulet was still furious. He had jumped up, balanced on the balls of his feet and hands clenched into tight fists. "Get up!" he snarled. "So you can try to knock me down again? No thank you." The Doctor peered up at the man. "Although we are wasting precious time. So if you've quite recovered...." "Recovered?" Goulet blinked several times and put his arms down. "But I... I was shielding my mind. It shouldn't have been... what just happened to me?" "The Emptying." The Doctor glanced at Jordon, who had picked up the fallen trooper's laser rifle. "Do explain it to him, my good fellow." And he marched off down the hallway. Terribly shaken, Terrix Vanadi looked up. The Mind of the People was in absolute turmoil and growing weaker. More and more individual minds were being struck down by the Emptying. Reaching out into the maelstrom of thought, Vanadi sought to find certain minds within the Mind. He would contact their top medical and psychological experts. He would demand that they put all of their efforts into finding a way to stop this problem. And into restoring the minds of the... Vanadi stopped, his thoughts troubled, unsure. The Empty. Those that he had been separating from the People for the good of the community. Excising them from the surface of society like a callus. Like a cancer. Perhaps he had been wrong. He reached out again. But there was no longer any Mind out there for him to touch. Only Empty silence. Goulet twisted the door's handle, but it wouldn't budge. He turned away, stepping gingerly over the two lifeless bodies at the base of the smoking, blackened door. "That was a very bad idea, Jordon!" the Doctor reprimanded, appalled that the Hasekan had gunned down the two guards standing outside the door. He wrenched the rifle out of his grip. "That noise will have alerted every Trooper in the entire building. Then I suppose it won't matter." Turning the gun onto the door, he shot out the locking

mechanism. Goulet yelped and instinctively leaped back further. The door swung loose on its hinges, a large hole on one edge. "Only useful purpose I've found for these things," the Doctor stated, handing the weapon back to Jordon. He strode into the room, his eyes scanning the interior. A man was lying back in a chair, hooked into a jumble of electronics by a cable leading into the crown-like device on his head. The Doctor could feel the echo of the man's thoughts magnified by the machine. He quickly crossed the space and yanked the cable loose from the device in a flurry of sparks. The sensation of the Emptying cut off abruptly. Jordon hauled the disorientated man from the chair and threw him hard into the corner. His gun swung toward the unconscious Coordinator. "No!" the Doctor shouted. "Leave him to me! You go and guard the door." "It's Hedan Sonada." The Hasekan's hands tightened on the weapon. "He's the one who made me Empty. I should..." "I am aware of what he's done," the Doctor said firmly. "And he will answer for it. But I really need you to watch that door." Jordon glared first at the Doctor, then Sonada's limp form. With an angry scowl, he stomped out of the room. "Diagnostics completed, Captain." The Temujin's Communications officer turned toward the command chair. "Everything checks out up here. And we are receiving a basic electronic response from the shuttle's equipment." "So where are they then?" Captain Vonuselani'i slammed a fist down onto the armrest. "Sir?" The officer considered offering an opinion, but took one look at the Captain's furious expression and thought better of it. "If anything's happened to those troopers, I'll clear all life from the face of that planet. Then we can colonize it with OUR people." A memory came to mind. "That nuisance of a telepath said there was no serious weapons threat on the planet," the Samoan woman growled, her eyes skimming over the personnel stationed on the bridge. She didn't remember dismissing the man. "Where is he?" She stabbed a finger, triggering the ship's broadcast system. "Imperial Telepath Jean Goulet," she ordered. "Report to the Bridge. Immediately." Her voice was dark with latent threat. Vonuselani'i pushed another button, cutting off communications with all but the armory. "Prepare an additional detachment for planetary deployment." "Permission to lead the mission, sir!" Her overly eager first officer snapped to attention. "Denied." The look on his Asian face was priceless. "I'm taking them down. Personally." She slid from her chair. "You have the Bridge, Meygao." The Doctor pushed Goulet toward the chair. "Here," he said, handing the telepath the coronet. "Get yourself hooked into the device." "Me?' The human watched as the Doctor swiftly repaired the minor damage he'd caused when he'd ripped loose the cabling. "This is already configured for human telepathic patterns," the Doctor explained as he twisted together a mesh of wires he'd found somewhere. "Let me jury-rig this together and I'll be with you in a minute."

Goulet gingerly lowered the headpiece leaned back into the chair. "Now what do The Doctor glanced up from his work. energy left in the device. But you might troopers there's no need to come in here, for that."

over the top of his skull and I do?" "There's not a great deal of want to convince those for a start. Should be enough

The remaining human soldiers had massed just around the corner from Sonada's office. While range weapons hadn't been in general use for at least a century on the planet, Jordon had been trained to deal with the Empty and he dropped into a defensive position against the wall. He held the rifle as though it were one of the electrified stunner all guards carried, ready to swing it around the edge of the doorframe when they began to advance. Slowing his breathing, he strained to hear the first faint rustling sounds of movement. Instead, a strange buzzing resonated in his ears and he winced at a sharp *ping* inside his mind. Like a warm breeze, a current of emotion wafted through his thoughts, humor and success intertwined with concern and fear. *Hello, Guard #1.* Jordon gasped at the sudden psychic contact, his hands shaking so badly that the gun clattered to the floor. A slow, amazed grin crept onto his face. Goulet's mental voice had a similar inflection to his spoken words, even touched with laughter. *For some reason, the Empress' Finest have forgotten why they're here. I don't think they'll be bothering you.* *No indeed.* Now it was the Doctor's thoughts he heard, awash with confidence. *So perhaps you'd like to come help us in here?* When she began her military career, Dana Vonuselani'i had started out as a pilot. She had quickly established herself as an ace. And it was her incredible skill with a shuttle, and later with an amazing assortment of Imperial ships, that had brought her the notice she needed. She entered the prepared shuttle, a tiny arrogant smirk on her lips. It was standard operating procedure aboard the Temujin that when the Captain led an away mission, she piloted. Always. A fact that annoyed the hell out of the shuttle pilots assigned to the ship. Like the dark skinny man who was even now sliding into the co-pilot's seat. While her piloting abilities had brought her the attention and admiration of her superiors, it had been her sheer ambition and what was widely viewed as an almost bloodthirsty determination that had propelled her rapidly up the chain of command. That had brought her the captain's chair. The same bloodthirstiness that would clear this planet of its telepathic refuse and make it useable to the Empress and her Empire. *We must restore the Empty first,* Jordon was insisting, his head wrapped in a coarse cage of wiring. *No!* Goulet's thoughts shouted. "You can both see the Captain's intent. And unless we find a way to stop her, Vonuselani'i will destroy everyone on this planet!* The two men, along with the Doctor, had linked their minds together and into the device. They had scanned Coordinator Sonada's surprisingly simple mind, discovering the secret research he had authorized that had

led to the development of TAPE, the telepathically amplified psychic emitter that they were connected to. They'd learned how he had destroyed the Human Shield so he could lure ships to the planet and loot them for their technology. How he had been confident that the amplification of his own abilities would allow him to defeat any ship, single-mindedly. And how in his paranoia he had tried to disable the telepathic abilities of his own people. It became very apparent that Hedan Sonada, Chief Coordinator of the Hasek Human Shield and Lead Guardian of the People of Hasek II, was utterly insane. Now the amplification surge of the TAPE's energy flooded through the trio's minds, leaving their bodies twitching and writhing helplessly. Still unconscious in the corner and trussed up with wires like a farm animal, Sonada's body was the only still form in the small room. *If we don't restore the Empty, we should at least re-implement the Human Shield,* Jordon reasoned. *Not enough power for that, I'm afraid,* the Doctor said. *And with just us three, not enough minds either. However...* The ambient noise of his thoughts rose to a dull roar, his mind churning so quickly that the other two couldn't keep up. *We would have enough minds,* Jordon caught Goulet's eye to emphasize his point, * if we restored...* *I've got it!* The Doctor's mental cry swept through the Triad of minds. *But we haven't much time, so listen carefully.* Captain Vonuselani'i blinked. Her head swam for a moment, and she couldn't remember why they had come out here. It had been important, something to do with the planet below. She glanced through the hatchway behind her. Her men sat in orderly rows in the main cabin, strapped into their chairs with crash webbing. Each was suited up in full battle gear. Vonuselani'i frowned. She must have ordered an attack then. But who was the enemy? It didn't matter. She wouldn't show any signs of weakness before the troops. They had no doubt been given their orders, and they would carry them out. She turned her attention back to landing the shuttle. *It didn't work!* Jordon was nearly beside himself with panic. *She didn't... we can't possibly influence every mind up there!* *Will you shut up!* Goulet glared at the man. *Captain Vonuselani'i is known for being especially ruthless. That's exactly why the Empress commanded that I be assigned to the Temujin. To serve as an 'influence'.* *She is rather single-minded, isn't she?* The Doctor glanced at the energy readings. *We only have enough power for one more try, gentlemen. Perhaps if we targeted the co-pilot?* he suggested. Shuttle Pilot M'hemed stared at the approaching planet, fuming. Goddess, this wasn't right! he thought. This is my shuttle and I should be landing it! He scowled as the vessel entered the upper atmosphere, streaks of fire skirting along the protective force field. Better still, M'hemed decided, I'll just take us all back up to the ship until the Captain and I can get this sorted. Without another thought, he reached out and

began resetting their course heading in the navigational controls. Vonuselani'i turned to watch the man, then calmly drew her sidearm and shot him once through the head. His body jerked and hung slack against the chair's webbing. "As you were!" she barked to the alarmed shouts from the troopers in the rear. Sliding her weapon back into its holster, the woman returned the settings to their original course. "Captain Vonuselani'i to Temujin," she said into the air. The communications equipment picked up her voice and transmitted it to the ship. "First Officer Meygao, sir." "Make a note, Meygao. Pilot first class..." She paused, attempting to remember the man's name. "Iousef M'hemed has been tried and summarily executed for insubordination and attempted mutiny. Vonuselani'i out." She cut off the officer's reply and turned her full attention back to landing the shuttle. Ignoring the corpse, the Captain's fingers moved over the controls, certain, confident, making minute adjustments in the shuttle's trajectory. They'd be on the ground in less than fifteen minutes and her troops could begin their annihilation of the native inhabitants. Disgusting telepVonuselani'i gasped, grimacing. Like a balloon popping, something had exploded behind her eyes. Her vision began to fade to black. A Stroke! her mind shouted. Massive hemorrhaging in the brain! Impending death! "But I'm in perfect heal-" she stammered. One hand fell against the throttle as she collapsed across the control panel. The soldiers in the main cabin were crushed back into their seats as the thrusters fired. "What have you done!" The Doctor had pulled off his makeshift headset and was staring with horror at the human telepath. "I killed two birds with one stroke." Goulet smiled at his choice of words. "You idiotic man! That shuttle doesn't have a pilot and is now accelerating toward the planet!" Goulet shrugged. "So they'll crash. Besides, we didn't have any more time." Jordon had turned pale at the flat statement. He clawed at the wires enmeshing his head and flung them aside as he scurried to the chair and grabbed Goulet's shoulders. "Where?" he insisted. "Where will they crash?" The human frowned at the tight grip on his arms. "I'm not a navigator. I'd guess somewhere..." "Somewhere very close to this location," the Doctor said quietly. He turned to Jordon. "We'll need to clear the area. Is there a public address system?" The Hasekan laughed, a short bitter bark. "We've never needed one. We're telepaths, Doctor," he explained unnecessarily. "Or we were." "I can stop them. Maybe." They both turned toward the human still reclined in the chair. He had his eyes crunched shut in concentration. "Get me some power for this thing," Goulet snapped, gesturing at the coronet still wedged on his head. "Now!" The Doctor looked at the man for the briefest instant. "All right," he agreed, striding swiftly toward the machinery surrounding the neural matter array. "Let me see what I can do." A moment later, power slammed into the coronet with an angry buzz

and Jordon had to grab Goulet's upper body to keep the man from shaking off the chair as he convulsed. "Doctor!" "Yes, I see. Perhaps we don't actually need to buffer the energy flow. If I reverse the pola-" His words trailed away while the Doctor's hands moved again among the wires and circuits. The electronic noise dropped off to a low hum. Goulet's body was now merely trembling. A rolling boom like a long thunderclap swelled outside the building, gradually rising in pitch and volume. The floor shivered under their feet and Jordan flinched. "Where can I put them?" the human telepath wheezed with obvious effort over the noise. The Doctor grabbed the bewildered Hasekan, spinning him around. "Quick, man! Are there any large empty spaces nearby? Like a landing field? Or an agricultural area? Even a park would do." "Uh, Unity Park is just outside the city perimeter. That's where we first encountered you, Doctor." Jordon gestured vaguely toward one of the walls. "If you were to go fifty mets in that direction..." *Just show me!* The human's amplified mind grasped Jordon's like a fist, scrabbling for the information in his head. "I think... I can maybe..." Goulet's breathing was becoming labored. A huge shadow passed overhead, blocking out the sunlight, followed by a deafening roar that rattled the walls. "Well done!" the Doctor cheered. "The shuttle's..." "...Not there yet!" Goulet hissed through clenched teeth. The blood vessels in his temples and neck stood out against his sweat-drenched skin. Then the air cracked and rumbled with the sound of an immense explosion. A second later, the floor rippled like snapped fabric, and the walls shuddered and fractured. The banks of neural matter teetered dangerously, individual containers of brain tissue sloshing and the cybernetic heart stuttering. The Doctor threw himself across the room and just managed to grab the edge of the stand with both hands as it went over. Muscles straining, he braced his legs and counterbalanced it with his body weight. The juddering slowly subsided. He let go only after making sure the stand was stable and the artificial heart had resumed its regular beating. Then running back to the TAPE device, the Doctor eased off the power. Jordon stood over Goulet's still form, feeling for a pulse in the man's neck. "I think he's dead." "No, he's not!" The Doctor dashed toward the chair. "Not if I have anything to say about it!" Yanking the lever to drop the seat back to a flattened position, he blew a breath into Goulet's mouth and began a rhythmic massage of the man's chest. Jordon watched in perplexed fascination. The ancient literature told of a mystical method, Sipiar, that could bring the dead back to life. But despite the incredible advances his people had made in the psychic sciences, the knowledge of how to perform the Sipiar procedure was gone. Lost over the ages since they had settled Hasek II. "Rudimentary telekinesis," the Doctor was mumbling to himself as he continued the ceremony, his voice growing increasingly more irritated. "Enhanced by the device so you could push the shuttle to a safer location." He bent down to blow another breath. "I'd say you were quite clever, Goulet, if you hadn't managed to kill yourself in the process!" Abruptly, he stopped and brought a fist down hard onto the dead man's chest. Goulet's body curled forward with the impact, and he gasped. And kept breathing!

Pressing his fingers against the human's neck, the Doctor nodded with satisfaction. "The man'll be a bit sore, but he'll live. He should sleep for a while." "You used the ritual of Sipiar." Jordon gazed in wonder at the Doctor. "He is alive!" "Sipiar? Ah, yes." The Doctor smiled. "CPR. Cardio-Pulmonary Resuscitation. And as for bringing this man back to life, perhaps it would appear that way to you." He reached for the coronet, easing it off of Goulet's head. "Well, come on, man. We've still got a great deal to do." First Officer Meygao watched in horror as a fiery bloom exploded on the planet's surface. He turned from the display and stared at the communications officer. "What happened?" he demanded. The woman shook herself out of her momentary shock and accessed the computer records. "Captain Vonuselani'i reported in nine minutes ago on the field adjudication and execution of Pilot M'hemed." She hurriedly continued as Meygao waved a hand in the air. "The Captain then cut off all communications." Her fingers moved over the keypad as she brought up more data. "Shuttle telemetry, however, shows that she locked out the controls to respond only to her voice and genetic patterns. Then for some unknown reason, sir, the Captain accelerated toward the planet and crashed the shuttle." "Did Captain Vonuselani'i hit the city?" Meygao wasn't entirely sure what answer he was hoping for. The navigator punched a few buttons and the image zoomed in, displaying a long trench gouged into the burning landscape and the shuttle's incinerated remains nestled amidst a half-rimmed crater. "No, sir. She just missed it." Vryan and Alexis sat on a wobbly, mangled bench in the warehouse and clung to one another. They had found each other again. Physically. Verbally. Could that ever be enough? Tynon Jonnix had gathered together as many of the Empty as they could find, trying to help them deal with the separation and the loss. With the utter silence and loneliness. He had convinced most of the people that there was much more to them than their mental powers, and that they could make their lives into whatever they wanted. He had given them a faint glimmer of hope. But he could do nothing for the deep, heavy sense of grief they all felt. All. Vryan and Alexis were no longer truly outsiders, alone in their Emptiness. It seemed that nearly everyone in the whole world was afflicted. Somehow, that fact didn't really make them feel any better. They bent their heads together, trying to share their thoughts and feelings through halting, inept words that reminded them further of the closeness they had lost. Vryan could only hugged his wife closer as a tear rolled down her face. Vryan suddenly gasped, his arms falling away limply. Alexis looked up at him in alarm. Then she heard it as well. It was a voice, inside their minds, calling to them. Calling them to the Shield Complex. With the Doctor's further modifications to the TAPE, energy no longer

needed to be buffered and compressed before the controlling telepath could make use of it. Jordon and the now conscious Goulet listened carefully as the Doctor explained how Sonada had used the TAPE's amplification factor to create a psychic wave that effectively immobilized the ability of the mind's neural center to interpret telepathic signals. In simple words, it shut off a telepath's perception. Like momentary sun blindness, the mind might eventually recover, given enough time. But that was one commodity of which they were running rather short. So more drastic measures were called for. The Doctor had then demonstrated how a single, concentrated burst might be enough of a shock to reawaken a person's telepathy. Jordon observed as the old man found and touched the minds of two of the Empty, directing them to come to the Shield Complex. "Do you think you've got it?" the Doctor asked, handing the coronet to Jordon. "Jean Goulet will monitored the energy levels, wont you, my good man? We don't want a repeat of what you went through." A moment later, Jordon was seated in the chair, cables connecting him with the device as power flowing directly into his brain. At first it was time consuming, but as he woke first one mind, then another, the effort became easier. Almost intuitive. In a very short time, despite the haze and smoke from the crash, the 'no longer Empty' began flowing into the room. The Doctor handed each one a headset as he hastily wired together a growing circuit of minds. And Jordon showed each new person in the psychic link what needed to be done. And all across the city, then all across the planet, fewer and fewer people were Empty. Vanadi wearily pulled himself out of his chair. Empty. He, Justice Terrix Vanadi, was Empty! The thought, rattling loud and angry in the crushing silence of his own head, made him cry. It was too much to hope for any sympathy. For any mercy. He had never shown any as he 'protected' society. Now he would be stripped of his position. Vanadi fingered the rich fabric of his clothing. He would be stripped of his robes. And then he would be cast out, cut off from society, from the People. Tossed out with the rest of the inhuman riffraff. Another sob burst from his lips. It was just too much too bear. He staggered to his ornate desk and unlocked a sealed drawer. The Imperial Troopers in the building had curled up on the floor under Jordon's telepathic command and gone to sleep. Then the Guards had merely gone from level to level and picked each of the troopers up. Carrying them out of the building, they had left the soldiers, still in full battle armor, sleeping peacefully in their shuttle. As more people had crowded into the small office, the Doctor had asked the Guards to take Coordinator Sonada to a confinement cell so they could fit a few more into the room. But then he had run out of wire. Still, there were now twenty-five or thirty people seated cross-legged on the floor, connected into the circuitry. Goulet watched as the power feed surged nearly into the dangerous level. With a single unified thought, the Mind of the People of Hasek II reached out and grasped every mind on the Temujin. It took less than an eye blink of time for them to find and access the hidden telepathic circuits that Goulet had told them the Empress used to silently monitor

her ships. Crossing the boundaries of space in another blink, they touched the mind of the Empress herself. *To the Empress and her subjects. The People of Hasek II send greetings.* The Imperial Advisors, as well as the other court hanger-ons, noticed that the Empress was growing extremely agitated. She thrashed and shivered on her royal dais. They instinctively backed a respectable and, with any luck, safe distance away. *We deeply regret the unfortunate circumstances that have allowed you to discover the location of our planet. Steps are being taken even now to rectify this situation.* When a few of the Empress' personal attendants suffered sudden, unexplainable heart failure, most of the royal entourage conveniently remembered that they had absolutely pressing business somewhere else, and scampered from the chamber. The most forward-thinking of them quietly boarded their own personal ships and zipped out into space. *The troopers that arrived in the first shuttle, or their bodies, will be returned to you. Sadly, the captain of the Imperial Cruiser Temujin has crashed the second shuttle into our planet, and all on board were consumed in the aftermath. Your telepath, Empress, has elected to remain with us, and Jean Goulet will be gladly welcomed into our society. However, we will permit no further interaction between your Empire and our People.* Aboard the Temujin, the navigator unknowingly operated the controls that would pilot the shuttle via remote. The small transport rose smoothly from the planet's surface, ascending through the atmosphere, but know one remarked on the tiny 'blip' on the tracking screens. No one noticed or remembered anything. Not even the chief engineer, as his fingers entered the commands that would wipe all logs, both ship and personal, for the last twenty-four hours. And all mention of one Jean Goulet, Empress' telepath. The shuttle bay technicians blinked in confusion as the shuttle set down a quarter hour later on the landing platform. When had Captain Meygao ordered another shuttle sent out? they wondered among themselves. Especially after the tragic loss of Captain Vonuselani'i during a routine training mission. The crewmen were even more perplexed when they got the doors open on the shuttle and found all of the passengers but two were only asleep. *So we must leave you with a warning. We have expended little energy to address you, your most imperial majesty. Please be aware that if we were not left in peace, it would require little further effort on our part to extinguish your life completely. Farewell.* And throughout the vast Empire, her subjects found that Hell indeed could contain no greater fury than that of an Empress scorned. The teams that Jonnix had sent out to look for the Empty continued to search the rain-drenched city. As they reached the building that held the Government Center, they began to find the bodies. Chief Executor Monett Aridex. First Psychologist Vanesi Rolon. Justice Terrix Vanadi. Nearly half of the doors in the Center were locked. And behind each locked door was the body of some government official. Each without a single mark on them. The news of the discoveries rippled through the Mind, arousing first fear and horror, then outrage as one of the Guards remembered a similar occurrence from years past. They had used ritual poisoning, an outlawed course of action. Three different substances were ingested. Each by itself was relatively

harmless, but combined with the acids of the stomach they formed a toxic substance that induced an amazingly quick death. But from the tortured, terrified expressions on each face, not a painless one. Terrix Vanadi had been correct. The People of Hasek II had done more than just thank their perceived 'hero of the day'. They had unanimously selected Jordon as the next Chief Executor. Caught up in the exaltations of the Mind and the celebrations of the People, it was one full day before the Doctor, Tynon Jonnix and Jean Goulet could talk to Jordon alone. Jonnix set a container full of folded strips of paper on the Chief Executor's desk. "Here." "What is this?" Jordon picked up one of the bits and opened it. His name was written on the paper. The Doctor took the paper from his hand. "There are a few people, like Tynon here, who can no longer completely access the Mind and had no say in your election as Chief Executor. I suggested they take a vote." "A vote?" "A simple process, really," the Doctor explained. "Everyone writes the name of the person they'd like to see in the office on a slip of paper, and then you count the number of slips for each name." He smiled as he returned the paper to its container. "You won, by the way. Sixty-three percent of the vote." "Sixty-three?" The Doctor nodded, obviously amused with the new Executor's confusion over the democratic process. "Tynon Jonnix got the other thirty-seven percent." Jordon frowned at the pile of folded papers. "Are there really that many who are still Empty?" he asked Jonnix. "The late Justice Vanadi was rather industrious." Jonnix rubbed a finger over the area of his skull that the psychic surgeons had penetrated to excise the neural matter of his telepathic center. "I can hear the Mind, Chief Executor, but I can't lend my voice to it. And others are completely cut off." "This is awful." Jordon began to pace behind the desk with agitation. "I thought we had found every mind. That we had restored all of the Empty." "I'm afraid not." The Doctor's voice was quiet. "But what else can I do?" Jordon lamented. "We can't make those decisions for you, Chief Executor Jordon," Goulet finally spoke up. "But you might consider appointing some personal advisors. People who are skilled in areas you aren't." "Advisors," Jordon muttered. He turned toward Jonnix. "There's an opening for First Psychologist. I'm sure I could convince the People." Jonnix shook his head. "What about the Empty?" "Are you suggesting a vote?" Jordon pondered the possibility. "That would take some time to organize. And would the People understand?" "It would be fair," Goulet advised him. "Even under the Empress, the Empire still voted on some things." "And until very recently," Jonnix noted, "all of the People were Empty. Perhaps you should remind the Telepathic of that." He fished in his pocket and pulled out a scrap of flesh-like material. "We could probably construct telepathic enhancers by reversing the muffler technology. It might be helpful for those with limited abilities." "And what of the neural matter in Sonada's office?" The Doctor was leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he watched their exchange and

grinning like a proud parent watching a toddler take his first steps. Goulet looked at Jordon and Jonnix. "Cross-matching," he suggested. "You're got medical doctors, surely?" "We can't do that." Jordon shook his head. "We need that material to keep the TAPE running." "No." Jonnix raised a hand suddenly to his head as though in pain. "Not if we only return a portion of the neural matter to its owner. If we fitted them with telepathic enhancers, it might be enough." The Doctor's voice sounded from behind them. "There is also the possibility that a small amount of re-inserted material might regenerate the telepathic center. Given enough time." "So there is something we can do." Jordon smiled at the three men, and came around his desk. "With Tynon as First Psychologist and Jean Goulet and the Doctor as my advisors..." "I'm afraid you'll have to leave me out of this, old chap," the Doctor stated. "I won't be here much longer." "Doctor," Jordon said sadly, taking the old man's arm. "You're transport was in Unity Park. The crash... surely it was destroyed." "Oh, I wouldn't write the TARDIS off just yet, if I were you." The Doctor smiled as though at a private joke. "She made of sterner stuff than that." He patted Jordon on the back. "But I do agree with you. Jean Goulet would make a fine advisor. Especially with his knowledge of the Empire." Jordon looked at the human. "Well? The job's yours if you want it." "I find that I'm unemployed at the moment." Goulet shrugged. "I accept." "Good." Jordon released the Doctor and wrapped an arm around Goulet's shoulders. "And you're first task will be to organized a rotation of the Telepathic to monitor and maintain the Human Shield." The Doctor smiled as he slipped quietly from the room. He had just stepped from the building into the brilliant sunshine filling Philton Square when he felt a hand on his arm. "You did say you were leaving soon." Jonnix let go of the Doctor and grinned at the sight of so many people out basking in the warm, glorious day. Only from his faint hold on the Mind could he sense which were Telepathic and which were Empty. The plaza overflowed with the sound of voices, actual audible voices, laughing and talking and shouting. Somewhere to one side of the area, several people were having a discussion that might even, with a little luck, degenerate into an argument. "No one need be considered Empty," the Doctor noted, following the Hasekan's gaze. "Not if everyone is willing to share their thoughts and feelings with others like this." "I hope you're right." Jonnix leaned back against the stonework of the building, crossed his arms and tilted his face into the sunlight. The Doctor peered at the man with a troubled look. "What will become of Hedan Sonada? Surely he won't be executed?" "Put to death? Absolutely not, Doctor." Jonnix shuddered at the thought. "Although he might be made Empty. I fear that Sonada is a deeply disturbed individual. He can't bear the sound of the Mind, and I think enduring what for him must be utter chaos may be what drove him to try and shut it down." He closed his eyes, once again relaxing under the sun's glow. "Being Empty, or even telepathically muffled, might be the greatest kindness we can show him." "I am glad to hear that, my dear fellow," the Doctor said with evident relief. "And like you, I sincerely hope that you can help him." "When you first arrived, Doctor, I told you that we could help each

other." Jonnix turned his gaze back to the older man's intense blue eyes. "Have we?" "Perhaps." The Doctor considered. Maybe he wasn't quiet so alone in his grief at Jo's departure as it seemed. There were others who might miss her, possibly as much as he did. He stuck out his hand. "Yes, Tynon," he admitted. "Perhaps you have at that. Thank you." Jonnix took the outstretched hand with a little uncertainty, but returned the grasp warmly. "Goodbye, Doctor." "Goodbye." The Doctor strode across the Square and through the city streets, delighting in the warmth of an alien sun and the whisper of another planet's wind on his face. Within a short time, he was picking his way across a twisted, blackened wilderness, heading toward the untouched exterior of his TARDIS. He glanced at the half-melted remains of a large sign, barely able to decipher the smudged lettering. "Unity Park, indeed," he mused, unlocking the door. "Real unity invariably begins in the minds and hearts of all people." His stomach rumbled, long and low like thunder. Other than an interrupted cup of tea, he still hadn't had anything to eat. It was just as well that the TARDIS' larder was well stocked. The Doctor pushed through the doorway. Then with a tortured sound and flashing light, the battered old blue box faded away.

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