From jenkins@mhd1.moorhead.msus.eduSun Jan 1 15:26:27 1995 Date: Sun, 1 Jan 1995 15:57:40 -0600 (CST) From: "Lisa D. Jenkins" To: Babylon 5 Creative Subject: STORY: The First Girl on the Moon pt 1 Happy New Year! And to start it off, I'm going to share with you part one of my story (which I've often mentioned but never shared...until now), "The First Girl on the Moon." My New Year's Resolution? To finish the damn story! This story begins after the episode "The Geometry of Shadows" and continues co-currently with several episodes thereafter. Please note that the majority of this story was written BEFORE the episodes aired in my area, and the story was altered to fit within _Babylon 5_'s storyline after the airing of the episodes. The amazing similarity between my story and "The Long Dark" is PURELY a coincidence. I hope. If you want to comment, you know where to find me. * * * BABYLON 5 "The First Girl on the Moon" written by Lisa Jenkins part 1 -- cold afternoon Ivanova had Control. Recently promoted to commander, the young Russian officer found the simple duties of C&C watch officer to be relatively relaxing compared to many of her new-found duties. Generally. But diplomacy and tact, which this new officer was beginning to feel she had none, was starting to grow very thin. "Commander," addressed a young male tech officer on the C&C deck, "the Abbain trade ship is breaking holding pattern and approaching the docking gate." Distracted from her very brief moment of inner solitude, Ivanova mumbled with a frown that creased her soft features, "Damn." She leaned against her cane and hobbled carefully with her broken foot to the C&C console, opening communications. "Abbai ship, you are to maintain holding pattern until we have cleared you for docking. Is that understood?" Her voice betrayed the impatience of a rough day. The Abbain's voice from the other side of the transmission was to the point and certainly not going to give the new commander a break. "We have important cargo that must be delivered by 0800 hours, Earther. As our buyer is not likely to pay unless we give prompt delivery, we demand clearance NOW!" Gritting her teeth to prevent herself from destroying the Abbains' eardrums by shouting at the top of her lungs, Ivanova hissed, "You will return to holding pattern and MAINTAIN until MY clearance, or you will be disabled by this station's defenses. Is that UNDERSTOOD?" Obviously neither tactful nor polite, Ivanova still got her point across. The Abbain replied with a low grumble, "Understood," and soon his ship returned to safekeeping at a holding position. Ivanova rubbed her temples to drive away the impending headache, but it was of no use. It was already a long day, and it wasn't even over yet. She turned at the sound of the C&C doors behind her opening and a pair of distinctive footfalls approaching her. "Ah, Garibaldi," she addressed the security chief as he rounded the C&C deck floor, "glad you could drop by and direct traffic for me." Garibaldi's bright blue eyes looked down on his fellow officer with a mischievous smirk curling his mouth. "Sorry, Commander, I'm all out of 'photon torpedos.'" "Damn, and just when I could have used some good firepower to blow all these pesky traders away," she answered with a smile. "C'mon. Give me some good news for a change." "Well, I contacted the Abbains' last port of call, and it seems that the Regulations Officer found their ship to be 500 kilos overweight. Now, unless the Abbains were accidentally standing on the scale at the time their ship was weighed, I'd say they're transporting cargo that is clearly NOT on their manifest." A smile broke Ivanova's face again. "Thanks, Garibaldi. You made my day. I could probably kiss you." Garibaldi gave her a mild look of surprise and appraising glance. "But I won't," Ivanova amended with a sly look and returned to the C&C console. "If you need me," Garibaldi declared as he took his own leave, "you know where to find me." "Babylon 5 to Abbai ship," Ivanova opened communications to the craft still in holding pattern, her voice containing a lilt of pleasure, "I'm afraid we're going to have to hold you a bit longer for a scan of your craft." As soon as the inevitable complaint returned, Ivanova turned audio off. Revenge was so sweet. * * * "Ah, my dear Lennier," called a smooth-talking, heavily-accented voice from behind the Minbari attache in a crowded corridor. Ambassador Mollari came walking up from behind the young Minbari and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. Lennier looked down at Mollari's hand somewhat curiously. "How is Ambassador Delenn these days?" Looking up at the Centauri's face, Lennier answered, "She is...fine." "Good! Good," Mollari answered cheerfully. "I am glad she is well. I was concerned that this...transformation she has undergone would make her unable to perform her duties on the council." Innocently, Lennier answered, "No. I don't believe so." "So -- she is perfectly fit to return to duties as ambassador?" asked Mollari, bringing out the fish with hopeful bait. "Yes. Yes, I think so. However, no one of my people has undergone such a transformation. We are not sure what is normal and what is not." "Is that so?" asked Mollari. Walking in behind the two, Garibaldi piped up, "Well, well, well. Always good to see the diplomats of different species getting along so harmoniously." The security chief's voice indicated he was not quite so pleased, but rather slightly suspicious, especially of Mollari's intentions. "Come, now, Mr. Garibaldi," Mollari replied, trying to sound innocent. "Is it so hard to think that ambassadors and attaches of different species can get along?" "Actually, no," Garibaldi admitted. "But IS hard to think of you, Londo, getting along with someone without trying to scheme something out of them. Now, if little innocent Lennier here decided to keep quiet about Ambassador Delenn's little transformation, I say you respect that. What do you say?" "Well, I say--" began the ambassador, but he was interrupted by the plaintive bleeps of Garibaldi's hand link. Raising his hand, he answered, "Garibaldi here." Ivanova's voice transmitted through the other end. "Garibaldi, looks like I'm going to need your help again." "What is it this time? Did you catch the Abbains transporting a big hungry lion cat they planned to set loose on the station?" Ivanova answered, "No. But I did find that missing 500 kilos of weight they're carrying. After a little coercing, they've admitted they brought along some space debris they picked up along the Rim. Our scan indicates that they are carrying a lot of refined metal, possibly from a ship wreckage. I'd like to set up a secured cargo bay to store the debris and place it in holding until we can analyze the remains and determine if the Abbains have any claim to it." "Good idea. I'll have my men set up a secured bay right away. I'll let you know when it's completed. Garibaldi out." The security chief looked at an irritated Mollari who seemed edgy since Lennier had taken the opportunity to blend himself in the crowd and disappear. "Now, you be a good boy," teasingly warned Garibaldi with an accusing finger to the Centauri ambassador. "Aren't I always?" questioned Mollari, dismissing the human security chief as he looked over the crowd passing through the corridor. "Where could he have gone?" Mollari wondered out loud and wandered away. * * * "What an unexpected pleasure," a very pleased voice greeted the woman who came walking into the captain's office. Because of the woman's almost palatable regal entrance, Captain Sheridan quickly stood from his desk, feeling a bit like he were at a dinner party where it was expected men would stand from their chairs when the ladies walked up to the table. "Please forgive me," the woman, Ambassador Delenn, spoke with a slight lilt in her voice and a complimentary nod with her head, letting her new head of hair fall softly against her shoulders. "I hope I am not disturbing you, Captain." "Not at all," he said with a smile. "Won't you sit down?" The ambassador glanced at one of the chairs at the captain's desk as though she had never been offered a seat in anyone's home or office before. Then with a diplomatic smile, she answered, "Yes, thank you," and sat down. Although the regulatory offering of the seat by the male to the female had been accomplished, Sheridan felt the ballroom atmosphere wouldn't go away even as he sat down. He didn't know what it was, but whenever he was in Ambassador Delenn's presence, it was if a very great personage was before him and it was all he could do to keep from tripping over himself for her. "What may I do for you, Ambassador?" Sheridan managed to ask politely. "Perhaps it is something I can do for you, Captain," Delenn replied in her fluid tones. "As you are very much aware, my people and our government highly objected to your presence on this space station. And it is true your name had been passed by when selecting the station's first commanding officer before Commander Sinclair's nomination was approved by the Minbari." "Yes, I...am aware of that," Sheridan answered with slight trepidation. "I am sure it is well-known how influential the Minbari's requests have been in the past," Delenn continued. "I want to reassure you, however, that not ALL Minbari object to your command of Babylon 5." She smiled slightly, just enough to be proper and indicate what she was saying without saying it. Sheridan took the hint. "I see. Well, it's good to know there are others on this station who feel like I do. Babylon 5 may hold the key to bring peace to the worlds in this sector of space." "Of that," Delenn spoke with extreme determination, "I am certain." Like exactly-cued timing, the captain's video comm bleeped for his attention. With an apologetic smile to Delenn, Sheridan answered the video link. "Sheridan here. Go ahead." Commander Ivanova's face filled the screen. "Captain, I'm sorry, but--" She was momentarily distracted from some shouting off-screen. Her expressive face betrayed her obvious contempt for whomever was making the commotion. "Yes, Commander?" Sheridan prompted. Ivanova returned her attention back to the comm. "Sorry, sir. A couple of Abbains have just docked from a trading run, and they wanted to bring up some...objections about our undeclared cargo regulations--" Again the voices off-screen disrupted Ivanova, this time loud enough for Sheridan to make out a number of fowl curses in the Abbains' language. He could tell Ivanova's patience had stretched as far as it could go when she stepped out of the video to shout a number of her own explicatives. Delenn injected, "I see you have matters to attend to. Thank you for your time, Captain," and she stood, quickly making a quiet exit. Sheridan barely got a chance to stand from his chair to complete the courtesy. Feeling like the prince who lost Cinderella at the stroke of midnight, Sheridan turned to stare at the still-open video link where Ivanova drifted in and out of the screen to "discuss" her position with the Abbains. He sighed. He hoped this wasn't exactly normal procedure. * * * "Mr. Garibaldi," stated the captain's wearied authority-type voice from a video comm console in the security office. "Captain?" the security chief returned the formality from his desk. Sheridan looked slightly over his shoulder off-screen to indicate someone else was with him. "I have some very angry Abbains in my office right now. They claim you are holding some of their cargo?" Garibaldi's eyes flickered to the papers on his desk somewhat guiltily. "Um, yes." "Do you have any good reason for doing so?" Garibaldi's lower jaw twisted as he attempted to find a suitable answer. "Well, basically, sir, you see...um...." Impatient, the captain questioned, "What is it? Yes or no?" "Well, yes. Uh, mostly. Kinda." The captain stared down his chief of security through the video link. Garibaldi continued, "Basically, Commander Ivanova expressed a bit of... difficulty with the Abbains while they were awaiting clearance for docking, Captain. I just provided a little...loophole to help her out." "Oh, really?" Clearly, the explanation was not the one that pleased the C.O. "Did you know that Trader's General Treaty states any debris found in some regions of space can fall under the so-called 'finder's keepers' clause?" "No. Really? I didn't know that." Garibaldi almost sounded genuinely surprised. "Now, unless you have security reasons why the cargo presents a hazard to this station, I'm going to have to ask you to release it back to the Abbains." Garibaldi sighed. "Yeah, I know." In a softer tone, Captain Sheridan continued, "But, ah, you also know, of course, station procedures indicate that all ships must present a complete manifest. I...don't suppose they followed procedure." Garibaldi inwardly grinned. "No, sir, they certainly didn't. In fact, my men are cataloging the cargo right now, checking for possible hazards to the station and its personnel." "Well, then, I guess there's nothing I can do until security clears the rest of Abbains' cargo, then, is there?" With a newer respect for his new commanding officer, Garibaldi replied, "Nope. Guess not." "I'll leave you to your work, then. Sheridan out." Garibaldi shook his head slightly and looked down at his paperwork. His new C.O. had character, that's for sure. Before he could dive into the wonders of filling out forms in triplicate, Garibaldi's hand link bleeped. "Garibaldi." The voice at the other end was a little worried if not disturbed at the request he was going to make. "Uh, Michael, I'm gonna have to ask for isolation on some of the Abbains' cargo." "What is it, Lou?" "I'm not sure. It looks like a pod of some kind; possibly a one-person escape pod or even a cryogenic stasis pod. I can't be certain. I want to have someone from medlab come down and check it out first." Lou exhaled. "The pod's certainly old. It'll take a while before we can find any matches in the computer database on whose this is, but I don't want to take any chances." "Neither would I, Welch," agreed Garibaldi. "Put a possible biohazard priority on the storage bay, and keep the bay locked and guarded until you find out what's exactly in that pod." "Will do. Welch out." Garibaldi looked worriedly at his paperwork. This little incident would obviously provide even more to fill out. * * * "I am SICK of this!" cried Gessle, captain of the Abbai trading ship. He paced in the quarters he and his co-pilot were forced to take while their ship was under security constraints. "This Earth Alliance and their regulations! BAH!" The co-pilot, Pelle spoke up, "Don't you see, Gessle? The Earth Alliance and their Earth Force only takes from other-worlders. This station is just a way for them to take more!" "Yes," Gessle agreed, stopping his pacing to think. "But what I want to know is why?" "Isn't it obvious?" Gessle's co-pilot asked and then stated, "I was right. The debris we picked up must have been important. Why would they put it under lock and key unless it was something they didn't want anyone else to have?" Gessle sat down in a chair near Pelle. "I MUST know what is so important in the debris we picked up! There must be a way to get it back." He snapped his gaze to the co-pilot and growled, "And their regulations be DAMNED!" * * * Entering the captain's office, Garibaldi greeted, "You wanted to see me, Captain?" "Ah, Mr. Garibaldi," the captain returned the greeting. "Michael," he corrected. "Michael," Sheridan repeated, paused a moment, and picked up some files from his desk, carrying them over to a file cabinet. "Weren't you going to release the cargo to the Abbains after inspection?" "Yes." "Well?" "We're not finished inspecting." Sheridan closed the cabinet and turned to face Garibaldi, a somewhat pensive frown on his face. "I think you can try a species' patience only so much, Michael." "I know. But we found a pod amongst the debris they picked up. Possibly containing biohazards. Now, I don't know where you place your priorities, Captain, but I would rather see some unhappy traders than a lot of sick or dead people on the station." "All right, all right," Sheridan reassured with a surrender. He regarded the security chief a moment before offering, "Won't you take a seat?" Garibaldi regarded his new commanding officer as well before moving to one of the chairs at his desk. Sheridan walked to the other side and sat down across from him. "Mr. Garibaldi--" Sheridan began. Before Garibaldi could even think about correcting him, Sheridan did it himself. "Uh, Michael. I can understand your trepidation about suddenly finding yourself with a new commanding officer. I know you're a suspicious mind. If I were you, under the circumstances of my previous C.O.'s transfer, I would be highly suspicious of me right now, too. But I want to reassure you, I hold the same priorities and interests as Commander Jeffrey Sinclair did when he was your C.O. I want to see Babylon 5 as a place of peaceful convergence where aliens and species of all worlds can congregate and do business. I don't want to get off on the wrong foot now after almost losing you as my chief security officer." Garibaldi nodded briefly. "I understand. But you also have to understand I worked very closely with Commander Sinclair before coming to Babylon 5, and as my record stands, no other C.O. presiding over my jurisdiction has commanded my complete and utter trust and respect." He took a pause to hold up his hands in defense. "Now, maybe I'm wrong to say that, but--" "No, no. Not at all," Sheridan interrupted. "You have every right to say it. It was clear to me when I took command of B5 that I would find myself up against a lot of resistance, including some of my own staff. That's understandable, considering how interdependent everyone must be out here in such a new and innovative station like this one. I want to prove to you that I am just as capable -- and as trustworthy -- as your previous C.O. I just hope you give me the chance to prove it." Garibaldi nodded again, this time a bit more relaxed. "Yeah, it's a bit unfair when all the hounds are out to get ya. I promise -- I'll try not to nip at your heels too often." He smirked at the captain. Sheridan smiled. "Don't let me become complacent, either, Michael. Bringing up something like this possible biohazard from an incoming trader's cargo is important. I'm not a security chief any more than you are a commanding officer, and we need to remind each other of things like that to keep us on our toes. I want you to keep me informed of everything that goes on on the station." Garibaldi bobbed his head yet again, reflecting on the clever little posturing the two men were making over each other, testing each other's moral mettle. "Alright. Well, I appreciate you laying it straight with me from the start, Captain. I'll take it into consideration before I stab you in the back." Garibaldi gave Sheridan a sarcastic stare at the irony of his own statement. Sheridan gave a look of mock surprise before he answered, "Thanks for taking the time to come and see me, Michael." "You bet," the security chief replied as he stood and departed. * * * With the help of his co-pilot's ingenuity, Gessle managed to obtain details of the secured cargo bay and the patrols watching over it. "They have sealed off the entrance to the bay," Gessle informed Pelle who was waiting outside their quarters in the corridor. "They claim it is under a 'biohazard containment' restriction, but the guard is minimal. If we only had weapons, it would make this a lot easier." "You mean one of these?" Pelle brought out a PPG from under his clothing and handed it to Gessle. "Pelle, you are a genius! I don't want to know how you lifted one of these from the Earthers, but may the Great Maker bless you!" "If you have a secretive way to get into the sector where the cargo is being held," suggested Pelle, "now would be the time to explore it." * * * Garibaldi walked the corridor, his thoughts off out amongst the stars. His suspicious mind mulled over his encounter with Captain Sheridan. There was nothing in their conversation which should have particularly made Sheridan a suspicious character to Garibaldi. After all, perhaps the man was right. Garibaldi had just gotten over a major trauma -- several, actually -- ranging from learning of the President's alleged assassination to being shot in the back by his own second-in-command to the loss of friend and commanding officer, Jeff Sinclair, by some damned reassignment no less. All of it quite out of Garibaldi's reach, unable for him to control. At the same time, everything about Garibaldi wanted to distrust the new commanding officer. He knew nothing of the man's track record other than what his personnel files stated. Sure, he had been captain of the military starship Agamemnon. Sure, the man actually won a battle against the Minbari in the war. But, hell, brownie points were easy to obtain in a tarnished system. And Garibaldi had seen enough polished politicking, especially as of late. Before he could weigh his decision whether or not he wanted to trust Sheridan, Garibaldi's link shrilled for attention. "Garibaldi," he answered. The voice on the other end was strained, "Security...breach. Cargo bay...12...." Instantly recognizing it as the bay where the secured debris from the Abbain trading ship was being held, Garibaldi sprinted down the corridor, hoping he would not be too late. * * * to be continued... DISCLAIMER _Babylon 5_, its characters and situations, is copyright 1995 by Babylonian Productions, Inc. This publication is not meant to infringe on any rights held by Babylonian Productions, Warner Brothers or Prime Time Entertainment Network. This publication is free to distribute as long as its contents and this notice are intact. -- Lisa Jenkins "Good dreams keep the world magical." jenkins@mhd1.moorhead.msus.edu --Cooper Edens, _Caretakers of Wonder_ From jenkins@mhd1.moorhead.msus.eduSat Feb 11 16:44:04 1995 Date: Sat, 11 Feb 1995 17:25:19 -0600 (CST) From: "Lisa D. Jenkins" To: Babylon 5 Creative Subject: STORY: First Girl on the Moon pt. 2 This is part two of "The First Girl on the Moon." Parts one, two and three take place some time after "The Geometry of Shadows" and just before "A Distant Star." The amazing similarity between my story and "The Long Dark" is PURELY a coincidence. I hope. * * * BABYLON 5 "The First Girl on the Moon" written by Lisa Jenkins part 2 -- raygun and lone harpoon Garibaldi pelted down the corridor to cargo bay 12 and rounded the corner to find the worst had already taken place. Two of his security people and a medlab tech were down, and the inner bay hatch was wide open. Getting down on one knee to check the closer officer and tech, Garibaldi discovered them both dead. He gritted his teeth, containing his anger. "Chief..." the other officer was alive, struggling against the pain his shoulder wound was giving him. Garibaldi eased the officer to lay back on the deck. "Take it easy, Dvoracek." "Perps still...inside," Dvoracek managed to tell his superior. "They have...PPGs...." He passed out. Garibaldi quickly glanced inside the cargo bay. Although he did not immediately see anyone inside, he knew they could easily be watching him from a secluded alcove. He brought up his hand link to his mouth and transmitted quickly, "Security breach in cargo bay 12. One officer down. Two casualties. Full assault team -- ultraviolet priority!" Standing, Garibaldi unholstered his PPG and cautiously approached the open bay hatch. Pausing just outside, Garibaldi readied himself for confrontation. In a split second, Garibaldi was in the cargo bay, his back against the wall and the open doorway beside him. He was all there was between the perps and their escape. Garibaldi timed it well. The two Abbains space traders were engrossed with the controls on the pod that had been found in the debris they carried back to Babylon 5. "Halt! Station security!" cried Garibaldi, his PPG aimed at them. Gessle stood between Garibaldi and the pod, and he swung around in surprise, obviously not expecting company. However, his reflexes were quick, and he managed to fire a round from his PPG. Fortunately the Abbain's moment to pause before firing saved Garibaldi who had dived further into the bay, using cargo crates as cover. Knowing the Abbain would head for his new location, Garibaldi quickly rounded the crate and fired at Gessle. He underestimated the Abbain's reflexes and found himself under fire as soon as he broke cover. Gessle managed to shoot at Garibaldi, the round amazingly ricocheting off his hand and the weapon. The exchange of fire gave Garibaldi a surprise as his own PPG glowed red hot from Gessle's hit, and he cried out, dropping his weapon. Garibaldi chose his split-second steam-driver approach to the situation. Although he never really analyzed what a clever but stupid tactic it really was, Garibaldi dove for the Abbain before he could discharge the PPG again. Like an American football player, he tackled Gessle and took him down. Garibaldi grabbed Gessle's hand and smashed it against crates stacked beside them. The Abbain's grip on the weapon loosened, and the PPG clattered to the floor. Garibaldi jabbed the Abbain where a human's stomach would be, but this did not falter Gessle. He swung his arm with a sharp chop at Garibaldi's neck. The security chief saw the blow coming and was able to roll with the punch, but the movement caused Garibaldi to heap headlong into the crates. His bulk knocked both the crates and himself to the ground. Gessle lunged down on Garibaldi, but by then the security chief was in a position to let his knee take the brunt of the Abbain and use his force against him. The Abbain flew in a fluid arc from Garibaldi's knee over him and landed on the fallen crates. During this exchange, Pelle had only registered mild surprise at Garibaldi's entrance but determinately remained with the pod, playing with the exterior controls, looking for a way to open it and see what was inside. Continuing at their hand-to-hand combat, Garibaldi quickly stood over Gessle who had spotted the fallen PPG to his left. Although he would have to cross Garibaldi's path, the Abbain knew he stood a better chance with the PPG in his grip, and he dove for the weapon. The move was miscalculated, and Garibaldi easily rushed Gessle from the side, pushing just hard enough to make the Abbain miss his target. The PPG was now between the Abbain and Garibaldi. The two faced off over the weapon, knowing that each could lunge for the PPG at any moment. A believer of the unexpected, Garibaldi kicked the PPG away instead of lunging. It distracted the Abbain, and Garibaldi delivered a fairly effective blow to Gessle's upper chest that brought him to his knees. Suddenly the other Abbain cried out in triumph as he discovered the sequence to open the pod. Garibaldi turned just in time to see the opening pod release forced air out and knock Pelle backwards against the bulkhead. "Warning," announced a computer voice triggered by automatics. "Biohazard containment in effect. Cargo bay sealed to prevent contamination." Garibaldi's blow on Gessle was obviously not sufficient to knock him out for he took the security chief's moment of distraction to scramble to his feet and make an exit from the cargo bay. It was too late by the time Garibaldi took notice, and he saw the Abbain sprint through the bay hatch as the automatics set in and sealed the bay shut. Garibaldi, so out of breath as he was, stood like a statue and gaped for a moment before he realized what was going on. "Damn," he swore under his breath. Quickly taking hold of his senses, Garibaldi lifted his hand link and called, "Garibaldi to security! Alien perp escaping from cargo bay 12!" Outside the bay hatch was a full security squadron that had obviously just entered the sector as Gessle was making his escape. Poetic justice was served; the Abbain was surrounded. "Michael!" Lou Welch cried back through his own hand link. "We got 'im! Where the hell are you?" Back inside the cargo bay, Garibaldi cautiously approached the other Abbain who slumped unmoving on the floor. Giving him a quick jab with his foot, Garibaldi discovered the Abbain was dead. He glanced back at the pod beside him with trepidation. Raising his hand link, Garibaldi replied, "Ground zero." As Garibaldi slowly walked up to the pod, his curiosity drawing him in, he heard Welch exclaim, "Good God! You're not IN there...are you?" Ignoring his officer's question, Garibaldi cautiously bent down to peer inside the pod. A young female, obviously human, lay unconscious inside. Instrumentation surrounded her and a life support apparatus fit strapped across her chest with an oxygen mask covering the lower portion her face. He involuntarily gasped as he realized the woman was slowly breathing. Raising his hand link, Garibaldi told Welch, "Get a medlab team down here quick! There's somebody in this pod." * * * "Is it true?" Ambassador G'Kar asked Na'Troth as he poured himself a drink at the bar in his quarters. The female Narn stood beside G'Kar as if she were being inspected by a superior officer, her back straight and hands clasped behind her. "There is a full security alert in cargo bay 12, and medlab has sent a team to recover survivors." "So it IS true!" G'Kar's melodious voice did not hide his obvious excitement. He poured a second drink for his attache as he said, "Tell me, Na'Troth, what do you suppose this 'possible biohazard' may contain?" Her bright orange-red eyes flickered for a moment before answering, "The pod is obviously of Earth design. A very old escape pod from an ancient Earth vessel, possibly from before Earth's first contact with other species." "Interesting! You wouldn't think a human could still be alive in such a pod after so many centuries, would you?" He handed a drink to Na'Troth and swallowed down a shot of his own. Looking down into the bottom of his now- empty glass, G'Kar pondered, "A human who has never looked upon the face of an other-worlder." He snapped his gaze back up at Na'Troth who started to regard the thick golden orange liquid of the drink he had handed her. "I wonder," she questioned off-handedly, "if the human was someone important in Earth history?" G'Kar chuckled almost knowingly in response. * * * Dr. Stephen Franklin carefully presided over the medical team's construction of an isolation pressure doorway to the inner bay hatch. Totally engrossed in his work, Franklin didn't notice Sheridan step up beside him. "What do we have inside, Doctor?" asked the captain. "What? Oh." Franklin was taken by slight surprise. "Apparently the Abbains tried to get their cargo back prematurely. They opened the stasis pod, and it released an unknown virus, killing the Abbain co-pilot instantly. The station's automatics detected the virus and sealed the bay. Thankfully Garibaldi had set up the bay for a biohazard containment or the virus could have spread throughout this sector before detection." "Where IS Garibaldi?" wondered Sheridan, looking around for his security chief. Officer Welch answered him, "He's inside, sir." "Oh my God." Sheridan stared back at Welch, stunned. He quickly looked back at Franklin to state, "I thought you said the Abbain was killed by the virus." Franklin nodded. "He was, Captain, at least from what Garibaldi reported." "What about Garibaldi? Has the virus affected him?" This time the doctor shook his head. "I don't know yet. Not until I can go inside and examine him myself. The isolation pressure door is necessary to keep the viral contaminant in the bay when we go in. I expect it to be another half hour before I can suit up and enter." "In the meanwhile, my security chief may be slowly dying in there." Sheridan sighed and frowned. "I am having very bad luck keeping a hold of this one. Think of something ingenious to bring him out of there, Doctor." "Well," Franklin said with some trepidation, "there is something else you need to know." "What is that?" Sheridan wondered how much more "good" news he could stand in one day. Franklin considered his words carefully before speaking. "It was what I couldn't tell you over the link. The stasis pod isn't empty." The doctor watched Sheridan's reaction carefully, but the captain instinctively knew more was to follow. "The person is alive." "Human?" inquired Sheridan. "Yes." Welch interrupted, "Sir, I ran a search through our database on the pod's design. It's Earth design alright, but it's very old." "How old?" wondered Sheridan. "Anywhere between 100 to 150 years, sir." "My God!" exclaimed the captain. "A human nearly a century and a half old! Why would someone want to be put in stasis like that and shot off into space?" Franklin informed him, "Two hundred years ago there was a breakthrough in cryogenic technology, the ability to freeze a living animal and revive it in the distant future. Effectively, cryogenics enabled humans to put themselves in suspended animation." Sheridan nodded quickly. "Of course! That's right. Weren't cryogenics used in the first deep space explorations before hyperspace and jumpgates were established?" Franklin confirmed, "Yes, but they were also used for terminally ill patients who hoped that in the future a cure would be found and they could be revived." "So you believe the person inside that pod has a contagious infection and was put in stasis because of it?" Sheridan clarified. "Considering the type of special life support equipment described by Garibaldi which are contained in the pod and the presence of the virus," stated Franklin, "yes. Also, over the centuries, the viral infection would have slowed down along the vitals of the person, but like all viruses, has probably mutated. We may be looking at a very dangerous mutation that has been slowly eating away at the person's metabolism that could, if we are not careful, wipe out most of the life here on this station." * * * Last time Garibaldi heard from his security team, they told him medlab was setting up an isolation pressure doorway so they could safely suit up and come inside. That had been a lifetime ago, it seemed. Checking his chronometer, Garibaldi discovered it had only been five minutes. And Welch told him Dr. Franklin was saying 30 minutes Earth time at the earliest. Garibaldi felt he would go bonkers if he had to stand around for 30 minutes with nothing to do. Not only that, but his firing hand had been hurt in the exchange of PPG fire with the Abbian pilot. He rubbed the back of his burned hand gently as he sighed. The security chief would have at least thought Fate would trap him in with the mountains of paperwork waiting for him back at the office. Well, it would have been poetically fitting, anyway. He smirked when he realized that the one thing his second hand man Jack had always been good for was the paperwork. Garibaldi could always pawn the reports on him. Maybe that was a good enough reason in a way for Jack to turn on him like he did and literally shoot his superior in the back. Hell, it would have been a good enough reason for Garibaldi. He rubbed his eyes, the weariness of the day overcoming him. He began to rummage around in the cargo crates strewn by his fight with the Abbain captain. Flipping open a crate that was laying on its side, Garibaldi found blankets and bedding, including a folded cot. Jackpot. He pulled out the cot and unfolded it where it lay. He grabbed a small pillow from the crate and tried to fluff it, but it was stiff as a board. But the security chief didn't care. Garibaldi threw the pillow on the cot and sat down in the middle, testing if the cot would carry his weight. It did, and he lay down. Forty winks would be good to catch right about now. * * * For a moment he felt he was spinning uncontrollably, bright lights flashing around him, but soon he caught himself and focused his eyes. Lights seemed to be strung everywhere he looked, brightly shining up against the dark skyline made darker by the shades of grey surrounding him. Voices called from every direction. People were speaking, shouting -- laughter filled the air. Everywhere he looked, people walked in clusters, smiling and talking to each other, running off in different directions to various booths. He discovered he was walking, too, which he had not been aware of previously. It was though he were on autopilot, cruising through the station on his rounds. But this was not the station. Up ahead was a strange attraction. A cluster of people gathered around a long, tall pole. Approaching closer, he realized it was not really a pole at all, but a mechanical contraption. At the bottom was a lever and a large weight. At the very top was a round metal bowl riveted to the post, and all along the wooden beam was a tract that connected the weight below and the bell above. He remembered seeing a similar device in a Daffy Duck cartoon once. "Step right up!" a very distinct voice came into focus as he stood on the outside of the crowd circling the attraction. "Test your mettle against the forces of gravity!" Pointing, the man beside the contraption noticed him standing there. "You, sir! Won't you give it a try?" "Who? Me?" he questioned, pointing to himself. The man on the podium motioned him to come up and join him. "Yes, sir. I can see you must be a very strong man. Come on up and give it a swing!" He found himself stepping up to the contraption. The man held out a large mallet with a long handle. He took it and weighed it in his hands. "C'mon! Let's hear that bell ring!" the man encouraged him on. He lifted the mallet and swung it behind him, driving it forward to hit the lever. He watched the weight go up, up, up, almost to the top, but it missed the bell by mere inches. "Oh. Too bad, sir. But SO close! I know you can hit it this time! Give it another swing! Put your back into it, sir! Make that bell ring!" He set the mallet down with its head between his feet as he spit into his palms and rubbed his hands together. Lifting the mallet again, he brought it behind him as he had done before and swung forward, the head of the mallet pounding down with full force on the lever of the contraption. The weight shot up like a rocket trying to break Earth's gravity. The weight rose higher, higher, until it reached the rim of the bell at the top. With a loud klang, the weight hit the bell and fell back along the tract to the lever, bouncing several times before it fell to a halt. "Congratulations!" the man beside him cheered. "Here you are, sir! A gen-u-ine cupie doll!" He took the doll that was handed to him and looked down at it, frowning. What the hell was he going to do with a doll? As in answer to his thought, the man said, "For your girl," and motioned in a direction. He looked in the direction the man pointed and saw her. She was dressed unlike the others. Instead of a dress or other casual clothes, she was in a one-piece all-white jumper lined with hoses obviously meant for life support attachments. Her eyes were a coppery brown and her hair unusually long as though it grew uncombed for years. Then he remembered. * * * Garibaldi awoke with a start and swung his legs over the cot. "Chief!" called a voice from his hand link. "Are you there?" Shaking the odd feeling of not being entirely sure of where he was, Garibaldi lifted his hand to his mouth. "Yeah," he acknowledged. "Sorry, Lou. I was asleep." "Mr. Garibaldi," another voice filtered through the link. It was Dr. Franklin. "How have you been feeling?" "Fine, Doc. I guess." "I'm suiting up now. We should be able to enter the bay in less than five minutes." Garibaldi rolled his eyes. Another frickin' five minutes. Then he stopped to stare at the pod. It had opened wider. He shifted his weight, and his foot hit one of the dropped PPGs. Grabbing the weapon, Garibaldi rushed to the pod and peered inside. Empty. Behind him a stack of crates trembled as though someone had fallen against them. Aiming his PPG in the direction of the crates, Garibaldi called out, "Come out where I can see you." He paused to wait for a response from whomever was on the other side of the crates, but he received none. Garibaldi wondered for a moment if the woman had gotten out of the pod and collapsed from her illness somewhere behind the crates. Carefully venturing forward, Garibaldi made his way towards them. He called out, "I won't harm you. I want to help." He walked around the crates he had seen move and discovered her. She stood behind the crates and looked up at him with wide coppery brown eyes. Her hair was strewn around her head, long and tangled around her shoulders and back. Her white one-piece jumpsuit dangled hoses on the sides where it had hooked up to the stasis pod. For a brief moment, Garibaldi did not hold a PPG in his hand but a gift for his girl. A gift he won for her at the fair. He shook the odd feeling away and broke the silence. "Hi. I'm Michael." Garibaldi reached out for her. She reached out in turn, and somewhere between them, their hands touched. She screamed at the top of her lungs and fainted, falling into him. * * * to be continued... DISCLAIMER _Babylon 5_, its characters and situations, is copyright 1995 by Babylonian Productions, Inc. This publication is not meant to infringe on any rights held by Babylonian Productions, Warner Brothers or Prime Time Entertainment Network. This publication is free to distribute as long as its contents and this notice are intact. -- Lisa Jenkins "Sometimes lost causes are the only causes jenkins@mhd1.moorhead.msus.edu worth fighting for." --Tom Servo