Star Rangers: Connections

Disclaimer: The main characters are not mine, this is an amateur effort written purely for the fun of it, and no money has exchanged hands. It is not intended to breach the copyright of Paramount and Pet Fly Productions.

Note: Happy Holidays and thank you to all of those who have written to tell me how much you liked the first story in the Star Rangers series. I really appreciate hearing from you.

< > denotes telepathic exchange

Star Rangers: Connections

By Crystalphoenix

Ranger Captain Simon Banks poured himself a cup of coffee from his private stash and settled into the chair behind his desk. He was in a rare good mood this morning. No off world assignments had arisen to drag him away from Cascade and he had been able to spend the entire weekend enjoying the company of his son. Glancing through the glass doors of his office he saw his people already hard at work just the way he liked it. Banks watched with amusement as the doors to the Major Crime bull pen opened and Ranger Lieutenant James Ellison entered followed by the curly-haired bundle of energy that was his guide. Simon reached into his right hand drawer and removed the report that Rhonda had put together on their newest member.

Blair Jacob Sandburg, age 26, was a triple PhD in xeno-anthropology, xeno-psychology, and linguistics. Only child of a free-spirited mother, the kid had traveled most of the known galaxy by the time he was five. A professor of Anthropology at Rainier University, his master’s work had been on the cultural dynamics of the Senatobian people and he was accredited as an expert on sentinels, guides and shamans. Simon frowned the subjects of his doctorate theses were classified by the UET. What could the kid possibly know that was so sensitive that the UET would black out his research?

Closing the file Simon stuffed it back into the drawer and leaned back in his chair. When Jim Ellison had bonded to the young castaway they had found on Peruvia, Banks had been worried. Now he was having a hard time remembering what it had been like without the kid around. Sandburg was smart, very smart, but he also had a compassionate soul and an eerie way of seeing to the heart of a problem. His off-beat way of thinking had already helped crack a couple of tough cases and Simon had to admit that his people were more relaxed, more balanced since the young shaman had come into their midst. Banks had watched as the young healer had worked his magic on the close-knit rangers as well as the rest of the Cascade PD. Wherever he went tempers calmed and depression lifted. And the change in Ellison was nothing short of phenomenal. He was still a hard-ass and his temper was something to be feared and avoided at all cost but he was no longer the closed off loner he had been. He had started to open up to his co-workers. There was a new camaraderie in the unit that had been missing before Sandburg’s arrival. Unorthodox, unconventional and eccentric he might be but the kid was one of them now.

Simon glanced over at Ellison’s desk and smiled. Sandburg was seated in front of the computer pointing at the screen and explaining something to his partner. Graceful hands flew as the anthropologist explained his point. For his part Ellison stood with a tolerant smile on his face listening to every word knowing that the kid did have a point and sooner or later he would make it. Banks chuckled, anyone else would have been plastered on the wall by now but the sentinel had an unbelievable amount of tolerance for his guide and waited patiently. It was hard to believe that it had only been six weeks since he had officially met Blair Jacob Sandburg, it seemed that the kid had always been a part of them. Simon sipped his coffee and remembered that fateful first meeting.

Simon Banks climbed the steps to the third floor of 852 Prospect. It had been three days since he had helped Jim Ellison carry his unconscious guide home. Now the kid was awake, and Ellison had invited Simon over for dinner to get acquainted with him. Stopping before the door to apartment #307 Banks raised his hand to knock only to have the door open before he could even touch it.

“Simon right on time.” A smiling Jim Ellison stood back from the door and waved him in. Taking his captain’s jacket he hung it on the hooks beside the door then headed toward the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready would you like a beer?”

“A beer sounds good.” Trailing the sentinel into the kitchen Simon accepted the cold beer then turned to survey the loft.

“He’s outside on the balcony.” Seeing his boss’s nervous glance toward the glass doors leading out onto the balcony Jim chuckled. “Relax Simon he doesn’t bite. Give him a chance, you might even find out that you like him.” Ellison turned serious. “He’s a nice kid Simon. And he might just be able to answer all those questions you have about the sentinel/guide thing.” Jim gestured toward the balcony doors. “Go talk to him, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” A wry smile tugged at he sentinel’s mouth. “He certainly surprised me.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better Ellison?” Jim just stared at his commanding officer and friend. “All right, all right I’ll go talk to the kid but I’m not promising anything.”

“Fair enough, sir. I’ll call when dinner’s ready.” Turning to the kitchen sink Ellison resumed preparing vegetables for salad leaving Simon to tentatively make his way to the balcony.

Banks quietly opened the balcony doors and stepped out into the cool Cascadian air. Ellison’s young guide, bundled up in a bright afghan, was seated on a lounge chair enjoying the warm sun of one of Cascade’s rare clear days. Sandburg’s eyes were closed and Simon paused not wanting to wake him if the kid had fallen asleep, he knew that the healer’s energy levels were still low and he tired easily. There were traces of shadows beneath the young man’s eyes but his skin now had a healthy glow far different from the paleness of a few days ago. Banks was just about to retreat back into the sanctuary of the loft when the sleeping figure stirred and Simon found himself staring into a pair of dark blue eyes. For a moment something ancient stared at him from the depths of the blue pools then Sandburg blinked and he found himself looking at the curious face of Ellison’s guide. The young man studied him for a moment then smiled and held out one hand. “You must be Captain Banks. I believe we met briefly once before…sort of, I’m Blair Sandburg.”

Shaking the offered hand Simon settled into a nearby deck chair and chuckled. “If you can count watching you race across a clearing while your Chopec buddies held me captive as a first meeting.”

Blair blushed in embarrassment. “I have to apologize for that. I should have taken time to explain things to you but...”

“But you were too busy saving the life of my best officer to stop for chit chat. I understand. And by the way I haven’t thanked you yet, for what you did for Jim. He’s not just my best officer but my friend as well.”

One slender hand waved dismissively. “No thanks are necessary captain. I couldn’t let him die. He is my sentinel, every instinct I have was screaming for me to save him. But since we’re on the subject of thank yous. I owe you a big one.”

“For what?”

“Oh, for not freaking out, for listening to the Chopec, for taking me off world with you and most especially for not trying to separate me from Jim. That would have been a really bad scene man. You didn’t have to do any of that, so thank you.”

“Well the Chopec were quiet insistent about you accompanying us and since they were safeguarding my men and making it possible for us to complete our mission, I wasn’t in any position to argue with them. By the way, how did they come to have the antiserum?”

“Oh that, well I saw the probe go down and went to check it out. As soon as I saw the medi-pak I knew that it was important and that someone would be coming for it. Later when I started having the visions I realized that Jim would be in the search party so I had the Chopec bring the pack along on our rescue mission. But that’s not really what you want to know.” Calm blue eyes studied the captain. “You’re worried about my bonding to Jim.”

Simon sighed; the kid was way too perceptive. He had a million questions but wasn’t sure how to ask them. “It’s ok, captain.” The quiet voice interrupted his tangled thoughts and calmed his nervousness. “You can ask me anything. I won’t take offense and I’ll answer truthfully.”

Banks met the too wise blue eyes and read only sincerity. Taking a deep breath he gave voice to his deepest concern. “This bond you have with Ellison, does it give you control over him?”

Blair considered the question carefully, then as if reaching some inner accord he met Simon’s gaze. “How much do you know about sentinels and guides captain?”

“Just the basics, sentinels have enhanced senses and a genetic imperative to protect while guides are empaths who help sentinels use and control their senses.”

Blair nodded. “Essentially correct. But sentinels are more than just a set of hyper senses, along with those senses comes a set of instincts and behaviors that are hardwired directly into the subconscious bypassing conscious thought. You have known for some time that Jim is a sentinel but since his senses were offline you’ve never had to deal with that aspect of him before. Now all of sudden in less than forty-eight hours you see him suddenly behaving differently and you wonder if I am somehow controlling him through the bond. The answer to that captain is both yes and no.”

Simon tensed, he had suspected but had never expected Sandburg to admit it. “What...”

Blair held up a hand silencing the irate captain. “Captain Banks the man you know as Jim Ellison is stubborn, hard headed and it would take a nuclear explosion to veer him from a course of action once his mind is set. I have no more control over this man than any other friend but there is another to be considered now. Along with the man you know there is now a sentinel. The sentinel lives by one creed…protect the tribe. He doesn’t care about laws or morals or political correctness. He has only one rule...see the threat...eliminate the threat. Now that may be fine within the context of a primitive society but for a ranger, a civilized man and a cop it is unacceptable. Fortunately, nature has created a counterbalance for these primitive instincts. A sentinel is genetically programmed to respond to his guide. If I yell ‘Jim no don't kill him’ then the sentinel will delay killing his prey until he finds out why I object. That gives me time to use my empathy to dampen the sentinel’s killing rage until the man Jim Ellison is back in control. At that point Jim can then decide to kill his quarry or choose an alternative course of action. So do I have control over Jim Ellison? No. Do I have control over the sentinel that Jim Ellison has become? Yes, sometimes. There will still be times when the threat is so great that the sentinel instinct to protect will override the instinct to listen to the guide but that is an extreme case. ”

Banks stared at the young man before him stunned. He thought he knew about sentinels but now he realized that he was entering a brave new world where the normal rules no longer applied. Lucky for him Sandburg seemed to know the terrain well and was willing to share his knowledge. “Ok, so the changes in Ellison are due to the fact that he is now reacting like a sentinel as well as a cop. He’s not possessed or being controlled by an outside force. ”

Blair snorted and shook his head. “Afraid not captain. Jim is just being…Jim.”

“Great. Ok, next question. Most sentinels and guides have a bond but nothing like the one you and Jim have. Why the mental link thing?”

“I’m not exactly sure how to answer that one captain. I’ve never heard of a sentinel/guide pair having the type of bond that Jim and I do. Usually the guide establishes an empathetic link with the sentinel so that he can monitor and moderate the sentinel’s instincts while the sentinel in turn imprints the guide onto his senses so that he can use the guide as an anchor, allowing him to handle the sensory stimulus he receives without being swept away. However, the last Black Jaguar/Wolf team was centuries ago, this might be normal for this type of pairing. I can tell you that it is necessary for Jim and I.”

“Why?”

“In order for a guide to focus and direct his sentinel in the use of his gifts the sentinel must trust the guide implicitly. He must be willing to surrender himself into his guide’s control and follow his directives instinctively. This is difficult for most people but for Jim it is doubly so. He is the poster child for the anal-retentive control freak and his past is filled with betrayal. Thanks to the bonding we underwent, Jim knows that he can trust me. He doesn’t think he can trust me...he knows to the depths of his soul that he can trust me. There are no secrets, no doubts between us. Therefore when I, as his guide, tell him to do something he responds with no hesitation. The reverse is also true. As a guide I trust my sentinel with my life. And just for the record captain. I could never hurt Jim. He is my sentinel and I am genetically programmed to protect him at all costs even if it means my life.”

Simon stared into the blue eyes and what he saw sent a chill down his spine. Sandburg meant what he was saying. He would sacrifice his life for Jim but more than that the kid would probably kill anyone who tried to hurt Ellison. The last of Simon’s fears disappeared. “All right that explains the seeing into each others souls but why the continued mental bond? Once you saw into each others minds why keep the link.”

Blair ran one hand through his mass of curls and tried to find the right words to explain. “The mental link serves two purposes. To use his senses fully and safely a sentinel needs a guide. Now while I am quiet willing to accompany Jim on the job and assist him with his police work there are going to be times when my presence would be more of a hindrance that an asset. After all I’m an academic, a civilian, having me along during an assault on a criminal stronghold would not be a good idea. Jim would be focused on me and my safety instead of catching the bad guys and that could get us both killed.”

Simon shuddered as he imagined having a civilian tag along while storming a pirate fortress and nodded in agreement.

“However, during such an exercise is when sentinel senses would be most valuable. But sending Jim on such a mission without the backing of a guide could get him killed. The mental bond Jim and I share offers another choice.” Blair took a deep breath; he wasn’t sure how the captain would handle the next part of his explanation. “As well as being a guide I am also a shaman.”

Simon nodded in encouragement. He could tell the kid was nervous but Banks doubted that anything the kid could say at this point would shock him.

“A shaman has the ability to travel outside his body, when necessary I can travel along the mental bond between us and merge my mind with Jim’s.”

He had been wrong Simon realized as he tried to wrap his mind around the young shaman’s words. Things had just entered a new level of strangeness. Shock kept him rooted to the spot and silent.

Taking his silence as an indication to proceed, Blair continued his explanation. “What it all boils down to is that I would be able to mentally accompany Jim, guiding him and acting as his anchor, while my body stayed safely tucked away out of danger. The down side is that my body would be vulnerable while I was away and the energy drain would limit my time, but for emergencies it should work well.”

Breathe Banks; Simon admonished himself, Jim needs you to understand this. You can freak out later on your own time. “So this merge,” Simon was pleased when his voice remained steady, “you what, mix your thoughts and Jim’s?”

“No, it’s not that type of merge. More like Ellison has a temporary houseguest in his head. Jim remains himself but he will be able to feel my presence and use that as an anchor for his senses while I’ll be able to monitor him and guide him when necessary. It won’t be anything different than we usually do except that this time I won’t have a physical form.”

Simon stared at the earnest young man sitting in front of him calmly discussing astral projection, soul bonding and telepathic links and tried to get his chaotic thoughts under control. Ok, he could do this. Hearing about this stuff made his skin crawl but he wasn’t the one who had to live with it. Ellison obviously had no problems with the current arrangement and he believed the kid when he said that he wouldn’t do anything to harm Jim. There were just some things about his sentinel/guide pair that he was better off not knowing or thinking about. The main thing was that Jim would be able to do his job while keeping both himself and his guide safe. Simon decided that this was a good thing. It was time to move on to less dangerous territory. “Ok, you said there were two reasons. What’s the second?”

Blair looked down and Simon had the impression he was embarrassed. Looking up the guide met the captain’s eyes and gave a shy smile. “Well the link serves as a kind of early warning system. Each of us knows where the other is and how they are at any given time.” He sighed. “You might as well know now. Guides are trouble magnets.”

“Exactly what does that mean, Sandburg?”

“Tell me captain how much of your case load is off world?”

“About twenty percent actually. Cascade has an unusually high crime rate and merits the services of a ranger unit full time. Why?”

“I would hazard a guess that Cascade is the most dangerous spot in the quadrant. Anyone with criminal leanings invariably finds their way to Cascade. Hit men decide to take out their targets when they are visiting Cascade, drug rings move their merchandise through Cascade, terrorist groups make their headquarters on Cascade and let’s not forget the serial killers, I bet they love the place.”

“What’s your point Sandburg?”

“My point captain is that since sentinels are a force for good then evil is naturally attracted to areas protected by sentinels. It’s natures way of thinning out the bad elements in our midst and just to make the process even more efficient nature decided to make all guides trouble magnets.”

“I’m still not sure what you mean by that. What do you mean trouble magnet?”

“It means captain that if there is a lunatic bad guy anywhere around and said bad guy decides to cause trouble then I’ll be in the middle of it. A sentinel’s job is to protect the tribe. The quickest way to get rid of the evildoers that might threaten the tribe is for the evildoers to come into contact with the sentinel and the quickest way to come to the attention of a sentinel...”

“Is to threaten the guide.”

“Got it in one man.”

“Great so this bond let’s Jim know when to come and rescue you.”

“That’s about it sir.”

“Great.”

“Would it help to say I’m sorry?”

Simon chuckled. The kid looked so contrite as if it was his fault that he was a target for every crazy lowlife in the galaxy. “Just take care of yourself and that partner of yours Sandburg that’s all I ask.”

“You can count on it captain.”

“Good now something smells good let’s go see what that sentinel of yours has cooked up for us.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m starved.” Rising carefully from the lounge Blair paused as pain flared through his body. He froze and waited for the sharp pains to fade to a more manageable level then looked up at the concerned face of Captain Banks. “I’m ok just some phantom pains, they’ll pass.”

Banks studied the pale face then nodded. Releasing his hold on the guide he followed the young man back into the loft where his sentinel waited. Simon was still baffled and uncomfortable with a lot of the sentinel/guide mumbo jumbo but one thing he now knew. Jim Ellison was a very lucky man.

Simon was brought back to the present by a knock on his office door. “Come in.” A smiling Jim Ellison entered followed by an equally pleased guide. The kid was practically bouncing on his toes. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“We’ve just nailed Thatcher sir.” There was smug satisfaction in Ellison’s voice. “We’re on our way to pick up the warrant now.”

“You actually found a judge willing to issue a warrant on Thatcher?” Councilman Gregory Thatcher was one of Cascade’s upper crust and a prime suspect in an art/artifact smuggling ring. The problem was no one could prove Thatcher was receiving stolen goods. His home was a virtual art museum but since he was one of the wealthiest men on the planet the objects could be legitimate investments. No judge would issue a search warrant unless Ellison could assure them that they wouldn’t end up with egg on their faces and a bevy of high priced lawyers on their tails. “OK, how did you accomplish this miracle?”

Jim pointed to his partner. “It was Blair.”

Glancing from one partner to the other Simon growled. “All right you two I want to know what’s going on and I want to know now.”

“Well you see when we went to visit Mr. Thatcher the other day he invited us into the study. While Jim was questioning him about the recent art shipments I kind of…well he has some great artifacts so…”

“So while Jim was working you were gawking at the artwork?”

“Uh, well yeah, anyway I saw this unique vase among one of the displays and I recognized it. It was an Mantidae warrior urn.”

“So, he is a wealthy collector Sandburg.”

“No, you don’t understand Captain. The Mantidae will sell their basic pottery and crafts to anyone but their ceremonial vessels are another story. There are only about a dozen off-worlders who have been presented with one. And each urn is unique reflecting what character trait or vocation the Mantidae found worthy of honor. Trust me there is no way Thatcher owns that urn.”

“Hence the warrant.” Jim finished. “When Sandburg finished explaining all this to Judge Collins he couldn’t sign the warrant fast enough. We’ve got Thatcher dead to rights this time Simon and no high price lawyer is going to wiggle him out of it.”

“Then what are you standing around here for lieutenant? Go…bring him in.”

“Yes sir. Come on Chief, let’s go get the bad guy.”

Simon watched the two leave and smiled. Who would have thought? Sometimes having an academic around wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Two hours later Councilman Gregory Thatcher flanked by his high priced lawyer sat in the interrogation room scowling at the ranger lieutenant that had dared arrest him.

“Lieutenant Ellison you have no right to hold my client. He is a well-respected businessman and is known for his collection of rare and valuable art objects. You have no right to invade his home, on the word of some,” he glanced over at Sandburg, “some college student with dreams of being a policeman.”

Ellison leaned back in his chair and smiled chillingly causing the lawyer to shift nervously in his chair. “Dr. Sandburg,” he emphasized the title, “is a professor of xeno-anthropology at Rainier University and my guide. Your client was caught red handed with a cellar full of stolen artwork and artifacts.”

“But your search was unlawful. You obtained the warrant used under false pretenses. The urn you cited as just cause has been in Councilman Thatcher’s family for generations.”

“And there is no way you can prove otherwise.” Thatcher sneered. How dare this common thug interfere in his business? He would sue the upstart until he was penniless, yes maybe he’d sue the entire police department.

“That’s where you’re wrong councilman.” Thatcher’s grandiose plans ground to a halt at the quietly uttered words and he turned to stare at the young man he had dismissed as nobody. “That urn belongs to a man named DeMarco and was presented to him last year for an act of heroism.” Cold blue eyes pinned the councilman to his seat. “To the Mantidae such urns are sacred and it is an offense punishable by death for anyone other than the chosen to possess one.”

“How…” the lawyer looked from his client to the longhaired young man who he suspected was going to cost his client his freedom. “How can you be so sure?”

Blair smiled. “I spent three months living with the Mantidae. I learned their customs and their language. I also was given a similar urn when I left. Of course mine was to honor me as a scholar/healer not as a warrior. But I can read the designs on the vessel and…the legend stenciled into the bottom. That urn does not and has never belonged to Councilman Thatcher or anyone in his family. And before you ask councilor no one who was gifted with such a token would ever sell it. Such an insult to the Mantidae would warrant a blood feud and would end in the death of the defiler and all his kin.” Blair looked over at the councilman. “Which reminds me councilman you might want to warn your family. When the Mantidae learn that you have the urn they will want restitution.”

“Are you threatening my client?”

Blair shook his head. “I’m just stating facts councilor. You can look up the cultural imperatives of the Mantidae for yourself.”

The councilor glanced from the earnest young man to his cold-eyed partner and came to decision. “May I have a moment with my client please?”

“Sure.” Rising Ellison and Sandburg left the room. Pausing outside the door Jim cocked his head and listened to the argument going on in the room they had just left.

“Well?” Sandburg demanded. “And don’t tell me you aren’t listening. I can tell. So give, what’s going on?”

Retracting his hearing Ellison turned to his impatient partner and smiled. This time the smile was warm. “The lawyer has convinced Thatcher to cooperate.”

At that moment Simon appeared with a young woman in a stylish business suit. “Simon, Beverly just in time.” Jim glanced at the woman and nodded to the room behind them. “I believe they’re almost ready for you councilor.”

Assistant DA Beverly Powell smiled. “I don’t know who up there likes me but thanks to Dr. Sandburg’s little speech Thatcher would be a fool not to deal. And while the councilman might be an idiot his lawyer isn’t.”

“So what kind of deal will they get?” Blair was curious. As much as he hated the fact he knew that the councilman probably wouldn’t spend anytime in jail but according to Jim and Simon the important thing was in stopping the ring stealing the objects. That was the information they were hoping to sweat out of Thatcher.

“Probably amnesty for full information on the theft ring and a hefty fine. I know it doesn’t seem like much but I intend to ring every last name, date and place from him before letting him walk.” She grinned. “And of course he’s going to lose all those beautiful items he kept for himself as well as the stash of goods he was planning to unload to wealthy buyers.”

Blair nodded. “What happens to the stolen art?”

“We’ll try to return it to the rightful owners. Why?”

“The Mantidae urn, could you arrange to have it turned over to me?”

“I’m not sure.” Beverly looked at the two rangers then turned back to Blair. “Why would you want the urn?”

“What I told Thatcher was true. If the Mantidae find out that the urn has been stolen, and all it would take is one news leak, then they will declare a blood feud on the councilman and his family. If we can prove that DeMarco is dead, and I’m pretty sure he is since there is no theft report for the urn, then I can return the vessel to the Mantidae. I know the proper rituals and can assure that honor is upheld. The urn would be back where it belongs and well, this way no one would have to die.”

Silence reigned as three pairs of eyes stared at the anthropologist. Finally, Beverly found her voice. “Ah, I think that can be arranged Dr. Sandburg. As soon as we’re finished here I’ll see about having the urn signed over to your care.”

“Thank you.”

A soft tapping on the door signaled the end of Thatcher and his attorney’s debate. Opening the door Ellison met the gaze of one weary lawyer and one disgruntled client. The lawyer wasted no time getting down to business. “We’re ready to make a deal.”

With a certain degree of satisfaction Ellison turned and waved Beverly into the room. “Councilor he’s all yours.”

Beverly paused just outside the door and smiled at the three men. “Thank you for everything, I’ll take it from here.” She turned to Sandburg. “Good work doctor. I’ll be in touch about the urn.” Then she entered the room and firmly closed the door behind her.

Simon glanced at the closed door then turned to face his unorthodox but oh so efficient team. “Nice work you two. Take the rest of the afternoon off. But I want your reports on my desk first thing in the morning. Now get out of here.”

Jim watched his boss head back to work then turned to corral his bouncing partner. “Come on Sandburg. I feel a Wonderburger calling.”

“Wonderburger? Jim you can’t eat that stuff. How about something nice and healthy? I know this great little place over near the university, you’ll love it.”

Smiling the sentinel steered his guide, still extolling the dangers of red meat and the virtue of organically grown vegetables, out of the building. Some days it was great to be alive.

Councilman Gregory Thatcher poured himself a brandy from the crystal decanter on his desk then slumped back into his expensive imported leather chair. Raising the glass to his lips he downed its contents in one long gulp then choked as the fiery liquor burned its way down his throat. The fire now burning in his throat matched the one simmering in his heart. How dare they do this to him? It was bad enough that that harridan of an assistant DA had grilled him for hours but then they had had the gall to slap him with a not so insubstantial fine before finally turning him loose on his own recognizance, with the understanding that he was not to leave the area of course. His lawyer had assured him that he had gotten off easily but it still rankled. Then he had returned home to find the place besieged with reporters. Somehow the vultures had gotten wind of the whole sordid mess and now he was front-page news. Already the members of his social circle were beginning to avoid him like the plague afraid that being associated with him might sully their lily-white reputations. The money was a trivial matter but to be an outcast from the rich and beautiful was something he would not tolerate. It was all that little creep Sandburg’s fault. He had made a mistake with that one. Who would have guessed that such a nondescript little hippie want-a-be was actually a well-known anthropological scholar? And who could have guessed that such a noteworthy scholar would be wasting his time tagging along with a cop? He had always been careful whom he allowed into the house, that was why he had always been so successful. The stolen objects were displayed in areas of the mansion that only selected invitees ever saw. The only people to see the treasures had been those wanting to buy them, never anyone who would recognize them as stolen and report the fact. He had assumed that Ellison and his partner were just dumb cops without the breeding to recognize the few trinkets he kept on display as something other than a rich man’s decorations. He had forgotten that James Ellison was the son of William Ellison one of the leading lights of high society but of course it had not been Ellison who had turned out to be the threat but his partner Sandburg.

Thatcher stood and walked across the room to stare out the window onto the immaculate lawn. That one would pay. Already the word had gone out. He would pay a million credits to anyone who terminated the life of one Blair Sandburg. Thatcher smiled; soon every lowlife in the quadrant would be vying for the honor of ending Sandburg’s life. The councilman was so caught up in imagining Sandburg’s demise that he didn’t notice the silent figure that effortlessly bypassed his state-of-the-art security system and glided ghostlike among the shadows of the room until a vice like hand grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall.

“You should have left well enough alone Councilman.” The cold voice sent shivers up the captive’s spine, as did the look in the gray eyes of his assailant. Thatcher’s fear turned to terror as other dark clad forms began to circulate around the room. He was dragged over to the desk and pushed roughly into the chair. Before he could move he heard the hiss of an injector spray. “But we can’t allow you to jeopardize Blair Sandburg, he’s far to important to us.”

Thatcher felt the handle of the injector spray being placed in his right hand but already numbness was spreading through his body making it impossible to move. Blurry eyes glanced at the monitor screen and the suicide note prominently displayed there then darkness dragged him down into oblivion.

The next morning Councilman Thatcher was found slumped over his desk dead of an apparent suicide. No sign of forced entry or other signs of foul play were detected. The injector spray and the sedative he had used to end his life had been prescribed for the councilman to help him sleep after the traumatic events of his arrest. Pharmacy receipts showed that Thatcher had filled the prescription personally the day of his death. It was an open and shut case.

The media splashed the airwaves with the life and times of Councilman Thatcher from his rise to fame and fortune to his descent into the shame and dishonor that had driven him to take his own life rather than live in disgrace. By that evening the word on the street was quite a different story. The contract on Blair Sandburg had been withdrawn with a clear warning that anyone who now or in the future accepted such a contract would find himself joining the late councilman in the great beyond. Wisely the hired killers who had arrived in answer to Thatcher’s offer quickly caught the next ship off of Cascade. Some risks just weren’t worth the price. And at 852 Prospect, apartment 307, Dr. Blair Sandburg shook his head at the news of the councilman’s death then went on with his day unaware of the currents of intrigue that swirled around him.

Lieutenant Jim Ellison adjusted his grip on the grocery bags as he unlocked the door and entered the loft. He glanced around in search of his guide and roommate then froze at the sight, which greeted him. Sandburg knelt on the living room floor a circle of candles surrounding him. On the floor in front of him sat the Mantidae urn. Smoke curled from an incense burner and a saucer of what Jim’s senses told him was water laced with salt, sat nearby. A pile of white linen strips, a quill, a small wooden box and a cup of some dark liquid completed the picture. Jim watched as Blair held his hands above the urn and muttered in some unknown tongue. When he had finished he sprinkled the urn with the salt water then began to wrap it in the white strips. Sandburg wove the strips in a ritualistic manner. When he had finished the intricately wrapped urn reminded Jim of pictures he had seen of ancient Egyptian mummies. Taking the quill Blair dipped it into the cup of black liquid and painted the linen with alien symbols. Then he carefully placed the wrapped urn into the small wooden box and carefully closed the lid. Sitting back on his heels he crossed his arms across his chest and lowered his head. A few moments later he raised his head, uncrossed his arms and stretched. Reaching out he began snuffing the candles one by one. He had just finished extinguishing the last flame when he caught sight of his partner standing in the doorway.

Rising gracefully to his feet Blair made his way to his partner. “Jim, sorry man I didn’t hear you come in. Here let me help you with those.”

Surrendering one of the loaded grocery bags Ellison followed his roommate into the kitchen. Placing his bags on the counter he motioned toward the living room. “What’s with the mumbo jumbo chief?”

“Oh that.” Sandburg shrugged and began emptying bags and stowing away the groceries. “The DA’s office finally released the urn. I was just getting it ready to return to the Mantidae.”

Jim slid the six-pack of beer onto the bottom shelf of the fridge then glanced up at his partner. “It looked more like you were getting it ready for burial.”

“In a way that’s not so far off. Since we could not find DeMarco’s body performing the funerary rites for the urn shows that we have the proper respect and understanding of its significance.”

Ellison leaned against the counter and asked the question that had been bothering him since Blair’s speech in the interrogation room. “Would the Mantidae really kill innocent people over a piece of pottery? I find that a little hard to believe, chief.”

Blair finished putting away the last of the groceries then turned to face his sentinel. “Jim, the Mantidae are an unusual people. They are one of the few insectoid races that the Harvesters engineered. As scientist and engineers they have no peers but their handling of emotions is another story. Their thought processes are clinical in nature and complex emotions such as love, hate, sorrow or even joy are foreign to them. They define themselves by their clan affiliation and the job they perform. They mate out of duty to their clan and remain faithful to their spouses because it is their duty to do so. Loyalty, duty and honor are the emotions that rule them. Their ancestor was the praying mantis. Mantidae history is filled with violence and bloodshed; the fact that they have managed to curb their more basic instincts and evolve into civilized beings is something they take great pride in. But those primitive instincts are still a part of them and can be brought to the surface very quickly by the right stimulus.”

“And I’m guessing a slight to their honor would qualify.”

“Big time.”

Jim smiled and reached out to swat the back of the curly head. “Then it’s a good thing we have you around to avert disaster Darwin.”

“Hey watch the hair man.” Blair threw up his hands to ward off his larger roommate. “And what’s for dinner? I’m like so starved and it’s your turn to cook.”

Ellison pointed to the candles still sitting in the middle of the living room floor. “Clean up that mess and I’ll order takeout. Chinese ok?”

“Great, you know what I like.”

As Sandburg began to clear the living room Ellison dialed the familiar number for his favorite Chinese restaurant. He smiled as he realized that he did indeed know what his partner liked.

The dark-haired man dressed in a fashionable business suit joined the hundred or so young executives hurrying through the corporate headquarters. Unobserved he slipped into the restricted elevator hidden at the back of the lobby. Entering his personal code he waited as the sophisticated security system built into the elevator performed a complete bio-scan before clearing him to proceed. Receiving the all clear he pressed the button for the penthouse and the elevator moved smoothly upward.

A short while later the elevator doors opened and the man exited onto the secure floor. He ignored the cameras watching him and proceeded across the plush carpet to the elegant French doors at the end of the corridor. Pausing before the closed doors he waited. There was a soft click then a voice spoke from the speaker beside the door. “Come in.”

Obeying the summons he opened the door and entered the inner sanctum of one of the most powerful men in the known galaxy. Approaching the tall silver-haired man seated behind the huge mahogany desk the visitor wasted no time. “The Thatcher matter has been handled. Dr. Sandburg is alive and well.”

“Excellent work.”

“I wish I could take the credit. Thatcher was taken out by someone else.”

“Ellison?”

“No, my guess is government.”

“Damn, we know they have an interest in Sandburg. If all had gone according to plan the good doctor would be in our hands and they would have no idea he was missing. Now…”

“So what are your orders, sir?”

“We need Sandburg. Do whatever it takes to acquire the young man.”

“That might prove difficult. The rangers rescued him as you wanted but there’s been an unexpected development. It seems Ellison is a sentinel, Sandburg’s sentinel to be exact.”

“They’re bonded?”

The dark-haired man nodded. “Sandburg’s moved in with Ellison. The two are inseparable. He has yet to resume his duties at the university and spends most of his time surrounded by rangers. Snatching him now would be risky.”

“Yes, I can see where that might pose a problem. We need to separate Sandburg from his protectors and find a way to take Ellison out of the equation. The last thing we need is an enraged sentinel who also happens to be an ex-commando on out trail. He will need to be eliminated. See to it, then acquire the good doctor.”

“Eliminating Ellison might be a mistake, sir.”

“How so?”

“My sources tell me the bond between Ellison and Sandburg is unnaturally strong. Killing Ellison might kill Sandburg as well.”

“Sandburg is no good to us dead or catatonic. Very well, this complicates things but changes nothing. In fact, we might be able to turn this to our advantage. If young Dr. Sandburg proves uncooperative a threat to his sentinel could be a powerful persuasion. Keep Sandburg under observation, he can’t stay with Ellison every second. Sooner or later he will return to Rainier, when he does we will make our move. By the time Ellison is aware his guide is missing he’ll be off world and even the illustrious rangers will have a hard time finding him.”

With a nod the dark haired man turned and left the office. Behind him his boss leaned back in his chair and smiled. The plan had hit a few snags but nothing that could not be overcome with the proper planning. They could afford to be patient sooner or later Sandburg would be theirs.

Blair Sandburg hefted his backpack onto one shoulder and joined the stream of people exiting at Rainier station. He had sold his ground car, an old clunker that often failed to run, when he had embarked on his sabbatical. Due to the vehicles temperamental nature he was well acquainted with Cascade’s mass transit system.

As Blair walked the two blocks to the Rainier campus he again pondered the news he had received that morning. He had called the Chancellor’s office to see about arranging an appointment to come by and discuss his options at Rainier. His sabbatical had originally been scheduled for three months yet he had been away from campus for almost a year. There was no way he could expect his job to still be waiting for him. He had hoped to be reinstated but knew that it was a long shot. Tenured positions were hard to come by and there was no way the administration would have held up such a valuable slot for a professor who failed to show.

He had been shocked then elated to discover that a clerical error had resulted in his sabbatical being listed as spanning twelve months instead of three and that both his job and his office were waiting for him to reclaim them. It would be another eight weeks before the next semester started so he would not have any immediate teaching duties. A good thing since he had a million and one things to get done before the semester started including finishing his paper on his time with the Chopec. That was a real coup since few outsiders had ever met the reclusive people much less had an opportunity to live with them. There had even been talk of him giving a few special lectures on the Chopec here on campus.

Climbing the steps to Hargrove Hall he ducked the crowds of students rushing to class with practiced ease. Bypassing the elevator he took the stairs to the second floor and followed the long hallway to the back corner office. He paused to run his fingers over the nameplate on the door. Dr. Blair Sandburg. He unlocked the door and stepped into the cluttered office. A large desk sat in one corner of the room with his favorite chair tucked neatly behind it. A comfortable looking sofa was tucked under the window on one wall with a small table sporting a hot plate and kettle beside it. The remaining wall space was taken up by two metal file cabinets and large bookcases filled with books and artifacts. Blair ran his hand lovingly over one of the artifacts. Someone had been dusting while he was gone. Everything was just as he remembered it. Dropping his backpack next to the desk Blair walked over and lifted the kettle from the hot plate. First things first, a quick trip down the hall and he soon had water brewing for tea. Popping a disc into the player sitting on top of one of the file cabinets he smiled as the sounds of drums filled the room. Dropping into the chair behind his desk he glanced around the office and smiled. He was home.

Some time later a soft knock on the door pulled Blair away from the paper he was working on. “Come in.”

Answering his summons a dark-haired young woman with sparkling green eyes opened the door and entered. “Blair Sandburg?”

“That would be me.” Blair stood as the woman walked up to the desk and shook the hand she held out to him.

“Hi, I’m Michelle Dante, my friends call me Mike. I’m your new TA.”

“Pleased to meet you Mike, I didn’t know I had a TA.”

Mike laughed. “I’ve been lending an extra hand to those needing some additional help until you got back. So welcome back boss.”

Blair grinned and gestured to indicate the room. “So are you the one I have to thank for keeping the dust bunnies from over running the place.”

“Well since they’re paying me out of your funds I though I’d make sure the critters didn’t bury the place while you were gone.”

“Thanks I appreciate it. Now,” he turned and rummaged through the plies of paper on his desk until he found the one he wanted. Turning back to Mike he gave her a rueful smile. “It looks like we’re going to be busy next semester. I have two classes scheduled, I’ll try not to burden you too much with those since I know you have your own classes to teach, but I also need to start work on the Stoddard artifacts, there’s a mound of data to be organized and processed as well as the translation work.”

“I was hoping to do my thesis work on the Harvesters.”

“Great, we’ll need to get you cleared for the secure lab, then we can work on what area you might want to explore.”

Nodding Mike pulled a portable data pad from her pocket and made some notes. “I’ve already filed the appropriate paperwork. I just need your clearance and I’m good to go. Are the artifacts really as awesome as they say?”

“They’re fantastic. Dr. Stoddard found what appears to be a storage cache of Harvester relics. From the translations I’ve been able to do it appears that the site might have been built to preserve the knowledge and technology of the Harvesters for future generations.”

Mike was stunned. Her friends had told her that she was crazy to wait around for Sandburg’s return, to waste a year of her time that she could have applied to studying with another professor. But she had been adamant. She didn’t want a mediocre study with some average anthropologist she had wanted to study with the best. From everything she’d been able to find out the vibrant young man before her was the best. Now after seeing his enthusiasm and hearing about the chance of a lifetime he was offering her she was sure her decision had been the right one. She had no doubt that the young professor was going to run her ragged but she also knew that she was going to love every minute of it. “So are the artifacts here, I’ve not heard anything about secret relics hitting campus?”

Blair sat down in his chair and waved her to one of the chairs in front of the desk. “No, we’re trying to keep this quiet. The artifacts are being held under UET guard in a secured facility until I can arrange to have them transferred here. I need to verify security in the lab before bringing them here.” Blair smiled as an idea occurred to him. “Maybe Jim can help.”

“Jim?”

Blair’s smile grew wider. “Ranger Lieutenant Jim Ellison, he’s an ex-commando and my sentinel.” Blair pulled a card from the mess of papers on his desk and handed it to the stunned student. “Oh, here are the numbers for Jim and the other rangers of Major Crime. Mike before we go any further I should tell you that working for me might not be the safest thing for you. I’m going to spend a lot of my time helping the cops catch bad guys, who may not always appreciate being caught. Then there’s the guide thing. Trouble has a way of finding us. You may want to reconsider hanging around with me.”

“My brother’s best friend in college was a sentinel. He and his guide spent a lot of time at our house. I know what to expect. And if memory serves the danger usually comes after the guide alone. You need someone around to call for backup. I’d like to stay.”

“Then welcome aboard.”

“Listen up people.” All movement in the Major Crime’s bullpen halted as the rangers focused their attention on their boss. “We’ve just gotten a tip that Hendrix is making his move. The buy is going down now at an abandoned warehouse at Fifth and Vine. And to make it even sweeter the warehouse holds his main drug lab. Let’s move.”

With practiced efficiency the rangers cleared their desks and headed in mass for the transport waiting in the precinct’s garage. As the large van sped to the target zone vests and communication gear was pulled from storage bins and hastily donned. Weapons were checked and extra power packs strapped to belts. When the strike van finally arrived at the scene it was a fully armed and armored assault team that stepped from its depths.

With deft hand signals Banks deployed his team around the building making sure all exits were covered. Then he turned to the sentinel noting the tilted head and look of concentration. “What have you got Jim?” He asked softly.

“They’re definitely in there. Damn, I can’t get a clear fix on them.”

<Jim? What’s going on man? >

As the calm tones of his guide suddenly filled his mind, Ellison felt some of his tension ease. <Assault on a drug lab, Chief. >

<What! Do you need me there, ah… where is there exactly? >

Ellison gave a mental chuckle. <Fifth and Vine and no I do not want you down here Chief, its too dangerous. >

Jim could practically hear the wheels in Sandburg’s mind turning. <OK, but you can’t go in there alone. Hold on let me get comfortable…okay this may feel a little weird man. > Before he could ask what the heck Blair was talking about Jim was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling of his guide’s presence in his mind. A ghostly touch of a hand on his shoulder steadied him. His senses stabalized and sharpened responding effortlessly to his control now that his guide was with him. The sense of Blair was so strong and familiar that Ellison turned expecting to see the young man standing beside him only to see the concerned face of his captain instead.

“Jim, are you OK?”

Giving his boss a reassuring smile Jim nodded. ”Yeah, I think so. Listen Simon I need to do a recon before we storm the place.”

“It’s too dangerous for you to go in there on your own Jim. That place is full of chemicals and god knows what else. It would be suicide.”

Ellison smiled. “I won’t be alone sir.”

Simon stared at his best officer in confusion then understanding dawned. “He really did it didn’t he? The kids with you in your mind somehow.” At Ellison’s nod Banks shook his head. “OK, I don’t want to know. Just get in there so we can get these guys and Ellison be careful.”

With a nod to his boss Ellison turned and melted into the surrounding shadows. In moments Banks could detect no sign of his lieutenant. “Damn I wish I knew how he did that.” The captain muttered then turned to updating the other members of the strike team.

Slipping undetected into the old warehouse was child’s play for the ex-commando. Crouching in a darkened corner behind a stack of crates he sent his senses out to scan the interior. Instantly the sound of heartbeats registered on his sensitive hearing. “Simon,” he spoke softly into his com unit. “We’ve got three guards one on the north catwalk and two patrolling the main floor, north and south sides about two rows in. There is a dead pocket against the back west wall. Must be using a white noise generator. I can’t tell how many there might be.”

Following Blair’s instructions Jim extended his sense of smell. Immediately the scent of solvents and chemicals overwhelmed him threatening to send him into overload. Then the smell of herbal shampoo and the scent of his guide registered on his senses and broke thought the sensory overload. Following the mental instructions he dialed down his sense of smell and sighed as the world righted. Once the sensory storm passed he cautiously turned the dial on his sense of smell up notch-by-notch filtering out the unwanted odors one at a time until he finally locked onto the distinctive cologne Hendrix always wore. Piggybacking his hearing onto the scent, he was able to faintly make out the sound of six distinct heartbeats and scraps of conversation through the distortion of the white noise generator.

“Ok, Simon I have Hendrix and five others in an office, back wall, the deal is going down now. I’m going for the sniper.” Hearing his bosses ok, he tuned out Simon briefing the rest of the team and moved silently to the stairs leading to the catwalk above.

Jim smiled at his guide’s enthusiasm. <It was your idea Darwin. > Using the deadly skills he had perfected in his years with the commandos Ellison crept closer to the oblivious sentry.

<Yeah, but I didn’t know it would work. > Jim tabled that comment for later review as he closed on the sentry.

Ellison was right on top of the man before the guard sensed anything was wrong. At the last moment the man turned only to have a wedge hand strike to the throat silence any cry. A lightening fast chop to the neck and the sentry dropped to the catwalk unconsciousness. Cuffing the man to the railing surrounding the catwalk Ellison made sure the man’s weapons were out of reach then crouched beside his fallen prey and scanned the floor below. He watched as Henri and Rafe crept closer to the guard patrolling the northern half of the building while Conner and Taggert closed in on the other. Ellison quickly updated his comrades on the location of their respective targets and watched in satisfaction as the rangers quickly subdued the remaining guards. Leaving the catwalk he hurriedly joined his teammates. As one, the rangers moved to surround Hendrix and his cronies.

Rodger Hendrix glanced at his computer screen and smiled as his bank account registered the deposit of a trillion credits to his account. Satisfied he nodded to one of his bodyguards who handed a large suitcase to the dangerous looking man sitting in the chair in front of his desk. “It’s good doing business with you, Axon, enjoy.”

Handing the suitcase to one of his associates Axon waited as the contents was tested and verified then gave Hendrix a chilling smile. It’s a shame you’re closing up shop Hendrix. Euphoria is the hottest selling drug out there, a trillion credits is nothing to what you could make.”

“Sorry, Cascade is getting a little too warm for me, it’s time to relocate. I’ll contact you when I’m back in business.”

“See that you do. I’ve got a pipeline to every civilized rock in space, I can move all you can produce.”

As the two men shook hands to finalize their deal a loud voice echoed across the room. “Freeze Rangers! You’re under arrest!”

Instantly pandemonium broke out in the warehouse. Hendrix and Axon dove to the floor as their bodyguards drew weapons and opened fire on the rangers. The glass partition separating the office from the rest of the warehouse shattered under the barrage as the warehouse was lit by the eerie glow of discharging lasers. Sheltered behind thick crates the rangers returned fire sending a hail of energy bolts streaming into the office to slam into the desk and file cabinets that the thugs were using as cover. While their hired help kept the rangers busy Hendrix inched his way to the wall behind his desk. Removing a panel he revealed an opening leading to a passageway running along the wall. “Always have an escape route.” Hendrix smiled at the surprised look on Axon’s face then led the way into the passage. A few moments later silence settled over the warehouse and the rangers moved forward into the office. The four thugs lay unconscious on the floor but there was no sign of their employers.

Henri Brown shook his head and looked around at his teammates. “Where did they go? I know they didn’t pass us and there’s no where else they could be.”

Stalking around the now passive thugs Ellison scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary. In no time he located the hatch hidden in the back of the warehouse wall. “Seems our rat has made himself a bolt hole. There’s a passage back here.”

“But we only found the three entrances to the building.” Joel put in “They can’t stay in there forever. They’ll have to come out and make a run for the exits.”

Ellison extended his hearing to try to locate the fleeing men but all he could hear was the sounds of his teammates. With a growl he turned and searched the room finding the white noise generator lying on the floor beside a scorched file cabinet. Picking up the unit he flicked it off. Extending his hearing once again he was rewarded by the sounds of movement and the distinct thumping of heartbeats coming from beneath their feet. Motioning for Simon to follow he led him away from the office then in a quiet voice filled him in on what he had discovered. “The escape hatch wasn’t the only renovations Hendrix made. There’s a hidden room under our feet. I can hear their heartbeats.“

“Anyway to flush them out?”

“Too risky we don’t know what kind of armament they have down there.”

<You can find out Jim. You know what a hand laser smells and sounds like. Use your senses. > In the excitement Ellison had forgotten his guide’s presence. Now he followed his suggestion. “Simon I can detect at least six power units rushing them would not be a good idea.”

“So we let them come to us. Look they don’t know we have a sentinel on the team, use of a white noise generator is stand operating procedure for Hendrix when he’s making a deal. There’s no reason to believe that they realize we know about their hiding place.”

Ellison gave a feral smile. “And once they think the coast is clear.”

Simon’s smile matched that of his lieutenant. “They’ll fall right into our laps.”

The next half hour was a mass of activity as the prisoners were hauled away and evidence was secured for transport to headquarters. All the usual routines of a bust were carried out with much bemoaning of the loss of the principle players.