"Excuse me, miss, are you okay...?"

I'm still a little disoriented, having to lean on the wall from time to time as I experience a sensation that feels as though parts of me are still struggling to catch up after Darkhawk's "super-portal", when a female medical assistant approaches me - and it doesn't take her long to realise I'm not from Seattle. The words "Hey, are those your real ears?" don't get beyond formative thought as I take the necessary action, subtly influencing the girl's mind and perceptions so that nothing, beyond the glaringly obvious, gets her attention.

"I'm fine", I tell her - or at least I will be, if I'm not disturbed...

"That's an... interesting outfit", the med-tech observes. "Love the boots - and is that all your own hair...?"

"Don't bother the lady. She's come a long way."

A man's hand appears on the girl's shoulder, and steers her away from me. From behind her then emerges the rest of a broad-shouldered man with dark, close-cropped hair. His olive-green jacket bears what appear to be military insignia - I immediately recognise the flag of the United States - and a name-tag that reads "O'Halloran".

Once we're alone, the man stands stiffly to attention, and raises his hand to his temple in salute. "Major Forrest O'Halloran, United States Marine Corps, attached to United Nations Task Force Ares - on behalf of the peoples and governments of Earth, may I welcome you to our world, Ambassador."

Ares - the name of one of Earth's war-gods. I better be careful how I approach this. "I am..."

"...Mane-of-Night, Child of Mystalorn - Darkhawk told us to expect you", says the Major, "Commander Tyrho sent me personally."

Four names in one sentence, none of which any member of Earth's military should know. The last of them should put my mind at ease, but given the precarious situation I've only just left behind, I'm taking no chances, and there's nothing in the Earth military inventory that can hope to shield this man's thoughts from me.

I catch glimpses of desert, great stretches of sand from long-past and recent memory, pale gold and rust-red, then out of a swirling dust-storm, something takes shape - a familiar face, a sign that I've triggered a benign psionic trap. Rhagaan Tyrho has left me a message.

***Excuse me for not being there, Mistress Mane-of-Night***, says the image of the former emperor of Kirugar, and founder of the Confederacy, ***but I can't easily get away from my post, and Major O'Halloran has been kind enough to take time from his well-earned shore-leave to assist you.***

Clearly, Rhagaan knows me well enough use my caution in matters psionic to snare me, and trusts this man to carry his message without objection. "Sorry I couldn't be less conspicuous", I say to O'Halloran, "but I just came direct from combat, and there wasn't time to change."

"Not a problem, Madame Ambassador", says the Major - a rank something along the lines of Dominion's High Defender, if I recall correctly.

"I'm not here in a diplomatic capacity", I tell him. "Mane-of-Night will suffice."

The Major nods, and leads the way along the passage to an area where bed-bound children are connected to a wide array of life-support equipment. One or two of them look up, and I feel glad to have brought them some fleeting diversion from the illnesses - and then I'm gone as we progress into a more secluded area with separate rooms, where the cries of Tony Fulcher are louder, more coherent...

A pale-haired man, younger and less physically developed than O'Halloran, is pacing up and down at the end of the corridor, and when he sees us approach, there's a definite impression that he's especially glad we, and I in particular, are here.

"Will Anderton, Special Missions Squad", he announces, extending a welcoming hand to me. "My Lady, I'm honoured..."

I take his hand, and shake it as Earth custom requires. "Thank you, but I'm not here to honour, or be honoured.", I say to him. "What is Master Fulcher's condition?"

"That's why I've been waiting for you, My Lady", says Anderton. "I'm a fully qualified doctor, and I've studied off-world medicine as an operative of SCORPION, but this is a mystery to me. Physically, he's as well as one could expect for a young person who's been 'locked in' to a comatose state for over ten years, but it's his mind that's been adversely affected..."

"That makes him my patient, Doctor", I tell Anderton. "I must see him immediately."

"His parents are with him...", begins the young man, but I'm already at the door, with no intention of holding back...

Inside, there is another female medical support assistant, a man in a long white coat, and two who are not dressed as medical staff - a man with greying hair, and some of that facial growth that makes my skin crawl, and a worry-worn woman with a tear-streaked face. Everyone is surprised by my intrusion, except for the young man, awash with sweat, convulsing in the bed that dominates the room; Tony Fulcher, Captain Dominion.

"You can't come in here", barks the man in the white coat; a doctor, older and I'm assuming more superior than Anderton.

"What the hell...?", exclaims the bearded man.

"It seems like hell arrived long before I did", I respond, heading towards the bed, with my eyes solely on Tony. The med-tech tries to block my path, but a gentle telekinetic push moves her out of my way, depositing her in a chair by the wall.

"I'm calling security", the doctor cries out, but before he can get to the communications device mounted on the wall, Major O'Halloran has formed an olive-green barrier between them.

"I'm all the security you need, Doctor Cassidy", he says, calmly. "Now take it easy."

"I am not going to allow a complete stranger to interfere with my patient!", insists Cassidy - but when he moves to intercept me, he's thankful there's another chair for him to land in.

My first impression of Tony is that he's... displaced somehow - but only partially. Part of his consciousness is elsewhere - but before I can investigate further, a hand grasps my shoulder, and spins me round. "Stay away from my son!", snarls Mister Fulcher.

"I'm here to help Tony", I assure him. "So far, Mister Fulcher, I am the only person to be threatened and accosted - and I'd very much prefer for that to remain the case."

"What - what can you do?", splutters the man, casting incredulous eyes over my outfit.

"More than you can imagine", I tell him. "Just like your son."

Fulcher Senior doesn't seem to have been won over, but the son comes to his rescue. "M... Mane-of-Night...!", mumbles Tony, deliriously. "Please... help me...!"

I look around the room with a sarcastic air, waiting for someone to answer. "No? Guess he must be talking about me, then", I mutter sourly, and telekinetically sweep Mister Fulcher's hand from my shoulder.

I lean over the boy, and look into his wild, unblinking eyes. "I'm here, Tony", I say to him, "and I'm not leaving until you're safe."

"You so much as touch him...", growls the boy's father.

My mind snatches the chair out from under the startled med-tech, and slide it across the floor behind Fulcher Senior, bumping it against the back of his knees to force him to sit. "Please relax, Mister Fulcher", I sigh. "I am the only person in this room, if not on this whole planet, who can help your boy."

Fulcher starts to rise, but his wife intervenes - clearly, she's so desperate she'll even consider the unsolicited aid of a stranger in top-to-toe black vinyl. Grateful for this respite, I look to Doctor Cassidy, and ask the question that's been on my mind from the start. "Just what did you do to this boy?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss this patient with an unqualified... intruder", Cassidy responds sharply.

I'm about to make my usual style of threat - something along the lines of "You can tell me, or I can take the information from your mind - and who knows what damage I might do in the process" - but Mrs Fulcher steps in, once again, and spares him the indignity.

"Doctor... Doctor Cassidy, please - tell her", begs the distraught woman.

Mister Fulcher plainly disagrees. "Emily, you can't be serious...!"

"No, Ryan", insists his wife. "I don't know why, but I feel I... we can trust her."

Again, it's Tony who sways things, with a strangled moan that cuts even me to the bone. "Doctor, you can do nothing to help this boy, but I can", I declare, as Mister Fulcher appears to relent. "I'm not interested in trade secrets, or destroying reputations. I simply need to know the intent of what was done."

"I don't know what good it'll do", mumbles Cassidy.

"Just tell her", pleads Fulcher Senior, his willpower ebbing. "What else can we do...?"

The doctor's shoulders sag. "We gave Tony an infusion of experimental synthetic neuro-transmitters..."

"Well, that was a really stupid idea", I snap at him. They might as well have passed an electric current through his brain - it would've thrown the boy's psionic abilities out of order in just the same fashion. But why this curious reaction...?

Only one person can answer that.

Again, I look into Tony's eyes, positioning myself so that he can't avoid looking at me, and this time, I see more. From moment to moment, the young man appears to be focussing his gaze at different distances, as though there's something he's seeing, but to which the rest of us are oblivious - but not for long.

Journal entry paused...

...to be continued...