From: Kate Bolin Subject: The Great Babylon Project 1/4 Date: Thu, 8 May 1997 09:06:20 -0500 (CDT) Okay, I decided that there needed to be some fanfic on here, and so I'm posting a round-robin my friends and I are doing. Enjoy! Disc: B5 is Prop. of JMS, WB, PTEN, etc. Section 1--Kate Delenn sat in her room, brushing her hair. She knew it would come down to this. It had been, after all, just a matter of when. She gave her hair one last stroke before finally putting down the hairbrush and leaving her dressing table. She put on her outer robe and left her quarters, lost in thought. Lennier wanted to get drunk. He didn't care about what would happen to him, about the violent rage he knew would take over his body. He would welcome that rage, use it to his advantage, make it so that everything would be the way it was supposed to be. Delenn was finally leaving him, finally joinging the one she was "destined for". And, with all his heart, Lennier wanted it to be him. Section 2--Jeremy & Catherine As Lennier was seething, his door chimed and the ever-effervescent Marcus burst into the room. Marcus seemed a little lost, though. "If you're looking for Grey 17, it's missing," Lennier said sharply. He was anxious to get on with his anger and self-pity, and didn't have time for the misguided wonders of the stupid hu-man. "Actually, I was having trouble getting my Minbari fighting pike out to its full length, and was wondering if you could take a look at it," he said, wagging an eyebrow rougeishly. "Find someone in the warrior caste," Lennier barked, trying to seem as brusque as he could. "I was on my way out to Ivanova's quarters anyway," he added. If there was anyone on this station who knew about getting drunk, it was Susan "Month of the Wolf" Ivanova. He wouldn't mind being a wold right now, a wolf with sharp teeth to tear the throat of... "Great!" added Marcus brightly. "I'll come with you; I want to talk to Susan myself." Somewhat reluctantly, Lennier allowed Marcus to follow him along the corridors of Babylon 5--shown each week on the PTEN network. After a word from our sponsors, Marcus was asking, "Have you ever been in love with someone--really in love--and they don't seem to think of you in that way? You're a good friend, but you want, you need something more than that? You aren't sure how to pursue your deepest emotions without destroying the bonds of friendship that you've already built. Ever had that happen to ya, huh?" "I don't want to talk about it." Lennier scowled. They reached Ivanova's quarters and signaled. The doors whooshed open, as Ivanova had her computer set up in "Star Trek" interface this week. "Ivanova..." Lennier began, but Marcus interrupted. "Susan, there's been something on my mind for quite some time now, and I think I need to get it off. My chest, I mean." He placed a hand on Ivanova's arm for support. "There's someone in this room I respect, admire, and--" he paused "--Deeply love. Yes, I love you..." Section 3--Catherine & Jeremy "...Lennier." On the other side of the station, Delenn was walking slowly to the central shopping area of the station. She was muttering strange phrases to herself. "Mmm, maybe lime green with ecru trim. No, no, maybe a nice shade of grey, that was always popular on Minbar." Suddenly inspiration struck. "Pink!" she exclaimed, and doubled her pace, confident in her decision and good fashion taste. Ambassador Londo Mollari was engaged in a fierce debate with a shopkeeper when Delenn finally reached the tailor's shop. "No, no, no!" Londo said. "I need more room on the lapels! Something Prime-Ministerish!" He gestured at the Narn proprietor, nearly poking his eye out. "Ambassador." "Ambassador." Formalities exchanged, Londo asked Delenn, "So, how is the war going?" Delenn looked justifiable confused. "Didn't anyone tell you? The Shadows, the Vorlons, and the other First Ones have left." "Left? You must be jokin! They would not just leave. Now really, have the Vorlons attacked Z'ha'dum?" "Ambassador Mollari, I cannot believe your government has not told you. Z'ha'dum is gone. The war is over." "Ha ha ha," Londo laughed heartedly. "You are such a kidder!" "Look," said Delenn in frustration. "We only have a limited number of quotation marks for this section so I'm sorry, but this conversation cannot continue. Plus, I need to make the arrangements for the bridesmaids' dresses. I've just decided upon pink taffeta, with salmon cummerbunds for the groom and best man. You have recieved your invitation, yes? We're registers with all the best shops on Babylon 5--shown weekly on the PTEN network." "Great Maker," muttered Londo as they cut to commercial. to be continued... =*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=* | And if a Vorlon told you to jump off a cliff would you do it? | | | | | | | *=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*= From: Kate Bolin Subject: The Great Babylon 5 Project 2/4 Date: Fri, 9 May 1997 12:20:36 -0500 (CDT) Here's the second part...enjoy! Disc: B5 prop. of JMS, WB, PTEN, etc. Section 4---Elise Susan stared at Marcus and then she laughed. Big, gut-wrenching laughs poured from her. Marcus looked at Lennier who shrugged helplessly. "Susan?" Marcus asked. Susan wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just that...well, you can't possibly love me!" Marcus did his best to look hurt; with those eyes of his, he succeeded. "B-b-b-but, Susan!" She gave him a patient smile. "Look, it won't work. We don't control things here. There are mysterious Powers at work, and...well, they control our actions. And I'm afraid that a permanent romance hasn't been in the cards for anyone." "But Captain Sheridan and Delenn are happy!" he protested. Susan snickered. "Yeah, well, you don't think the Powers will actually let her pull off that...pastel...wedding thing, do you?" Marcus looked hurt again. "Well, I'd rather hoped they would! I look stunning in lavender." Lennier nudged him. "I believe Delenn said something about salmon," he reminded him. "She wanted me to wear fish?" Susan scowled. "Get out." Marcus now looked flustered. "But we're not finished!" "Yes, we are, at least for the next few minutes. The Powers are telling me it's time for another commercial." Section Five--Kate Susan sighed as the two men left her quarters. She really had to change that "Star Trek" interface. She returned to her bedroom. "God, I am so glad they're gone." The other person smiled, but no one could see it, her face being shadowed. Susan knew she had to fix the light, but what the hell... "And to think that Marcus thought he was in love with ME!" said Susan, continuing her rant. "After all that 'bonding' Lennier and him did..." The other person moved out of the dark spot, revealing the telepath we all know and love, Talia Winters. She smiled lightly. "Susan..." she said, her voice apologetic. "I'm sorry about the way I acted the last time we saw each other. You have to understand what being around Lyta does to me." Susan shrugged. "I know. Hell, she rubs me the wrong way too. And anyways, it was good you left when you did. If you had stayed around any longer, most of the guys would have thought I was totally unavailable...and then I wouldn't have gotten my promotion." Talia laughed. "Oh Susan..." she said. She paused for a second. "Do you think you can still...love me...after my change?" Susan chuckled. "Talia, honey," she said with a smile. "You're so much more fun than you were before." Talia gave her lover a giant hug. "I love you, Susan." "I love you, Talia." They kissed, and the lights dimmed. In the nearby hallway, Marcus looked up as the lights all over the station dimmed. "That's odd," he said. Lennier grunted. "It doesn't matter," he said in a depressed tone. "Nothing matters anymore." Marcus looked at him in shock. "What? What aboutthe Army of Light? What about Minbar? What about the Third Fain of Chudomo? What about Babylon 5? What about Delenn?" Lennier looked up sharply, but Marcus continued. "And what about ME?" he finally said. to be continued... ************************************************************************** * "Let's not talk about bombs or brain impulses of severed limbs..." * * --X "Draw the line" * * * * * * * ************************************************************************** From: Kate Bolin Subject: The Great Babylon Project 3/4 Date: Fri, 9 May 1997 15:28:03 -0500 (CDT) And here's some more! Disc: B5 prop of JMS, WB, PTEN, etc. Section six--Christy Delenn was smiling to herself contentedly. The bows would look so _nice_ on the bridesmaids' dresses, Right across the hollow of the back, with a few pink chrysanthemums in their hair... "Oh dear, cherie, you aren't planning on buying that, are you?" Delenn looked up at the sound of the French accented voice. An Earth woman with dark hair and blue eyes stood nearby, arms crossed, her face schrunched up in what Delenn could only assume was disgust "Yes, for my wedding." Delenn frowned. She stood back and held out the dress critically. "You do not like it?" "I haven't seen anything quite as atrocious since the late twentieth century. Pink taffeta? No no no. Try a ncie emerald velvet dress. Perhaps with a lovely string of pearls across the throat." "String of pearls..." echoed Delenn distantly. She was confused. "Do not all Earth weddings include pink taffeta dresses with large pink bows?" "Most do, but I would not call them tasteful weddings." "But emerald green would no go with the salmon cummerbunds," Delenn replied. The woman nearly choked. "Salmon cummerbunds? Oh my...Who DID you get such an atrocious sense of fashion from?" "_Modern Bride_," replied Delenn. "I thought all Earth women held their article 'Ten Ways to Hold the Wedding of Your Dreams' as dogma." "Only those who enjoy masquerading as powder puffs." The woman walked over to a long, elegant, burgundy gown. "This would make a lovely bridesmaid gown. And, of course, the men would wear matching cummerbunds." "No pink? No salmon?" Doubt had entered Delenn's mind. Would her wedding be as beautiful as she desired if she chose pink taffeta and salmon cummerbunds? The woman before her was tastefully attired in a black business suit. If she could dress herself so well, could she not also help Delenn with the wedding? "Oh Dear me, strike those colors from your mind. We want taste, cherie." The woman stepped back and eyed Delenn thoughtfully. "But first we must do something about YOU. So lovely, yet you wear such drab clothing." Delenn's frowned deepened. She looked down at herself self-consciously. "Me? But this is the traditional dress of my people." "Oh cherie, do enter the 23rd century." "Well, I am, of course, open to your suggestions," Delenn said hesitantly. Then she smiled. After all, Ivanova was an Earthling, and she had helped her with her hair before, so why would this woman be unable to help her with a sense of Earth fashion? "My name is Delenn. I am the Minbari ambassador." "My name," said the woman with a smile, "is Janette. And WE are going shopping." Mr. Garibaldi buzzed Ivanova's quarters. No one had seen Ivanova since yesterday (he had yet to encounter marcus or Lennier) and the Captain sent him around to find out what had happened to her. He stood there for a few minutes waiting for a reply. When none came, he buzzed again. This time the door whooshed open. Garibaldi muttered something about those damned Star Trek settings as he entered. Ivanova's quarters was dimly lit by a few candles on her coffee talbe. There were two champagne glasses, one empty, the other still full. He wondered briefly if Ivanova had gotten caught in another three day Hour of the Wolf AGAIN. "Ah, Ivanova?" he called. There was a sound of shuffling from the bedroom, then Ivanova emerged. She was wearing a sheer black nightgown just left just enough to the imagination. Her eyes were glazed over and she wore a stupid smile. In her arms she carried...an inflatable doll? Mr. Garibaldi blinked and did a double take. Sure enough, it was an inflatable doll dressed in a matching black nightgown. "Oh hi," she said and curled up on the couch with her doll. "Can I help you with something? talia and I were just going to settle down and listen to some music." "Talia?" echoed Garibaldi lamely, hoping that Talia really had returned and was hiding out in the bedroom, hoping that the doll was some kinky sex toy they were using and NOT Talia. "Yes, she came back to me," Ivanova exclaimed with a deliriuosly happy smile. She gazed down at Talia - er, the inflatable doll - lovingly. "We found each other in the Zocalo yesterday and it has been blissful ever since." So much for hopes. "Ah, Susan...have you been drinking again?" She looked up at him with a frown. "No. I haven't had anything to drink for a whole month." He raised an eyebrow skeptically at the empty champagne glass on the coffee table. "Well, maybe you should start it up again." "Why?" "Ivanova, that is an inflatable doll in a nightgown," Garibaldi told her. "Not Talia." It was Ivanova's turn to stare blankly. Too blankly. "Ivanova?" "Maybe you should leave, Mr. Garibaldi," she said briskly, standing up. "Now." "Maybe I should." Garibaldi turned around and left, glancing behind as he went to see Ivanova curling up on the couch once again with Talia - er, the inflatable doll. "Things around here are just getting too weird," he muttered to himself as Ivanova's door whooshed closed behind him. "Maybe I should have just gone to over the rim with the Old Ones. I hear there was a great Taco Bell out there." to be continued... ************************************************************************** * "Let's not talk about bombs or brain impulses of severed limbs..." * * --X "Draw the line" * * * * * * * ************************************************************************** From: Kate Bolin Subject: The Great Babylon Project (4/4) Date: Fri, 9 May 1997 19:30:48 -0500 (CDT) The final section! Disc: B5 prop of JMS, WB, PTEN, etc. Section Seven--Kate Delen sighed tiredly and looked at the shopping bags around her. "I cannot believe that I would need so many things," she said. Jeanette smiled. "But you want to look magnificent, yes?" she asked. Delenn nodded. "I always want to look good for John," she said, a bit of that starry-eyed slushy tone creeping into her voice. Jeanette looked at her with a faint look of disgust. "Cherie," she said, her voice purring. "Whatever do you see in him?" Delenn frowned at Jeanette. "He is John. We have been prophesied to be together. He is the One. I am the One. We are the One." Jeanette laughed. "Oh..." She continued laughing. "My petite belle," she said between giggles. "Do you mean to tell me that you are marrying John because it was a prophecy?" At Delenn's nod, she laughed again, then held up a small block. "Delenn," she said, her voice more serious. "What is this?" Delenn frowned confusedly. "A block of wood," she said. Jeanette nodded. "Yes, and this--" she pointed to the block of wood, "is all that John Sheridan is. He is nothing more than an animated block of wood!" Delenn frowned even more. "I do not understand," she said, biting slightly on her lip. Jeanette sighed. "A block of wood that gives incredibly boring speeches, injected with long pauses and idiotic metaphors!" She grasped Delenn's shoulders. "He has nothing, Delenn! You deserve better!' Delenn looked at the block, then at Jeanette, then at the block again. "What you say is...confusing...I must meditate on this..." She escaped to her bedchamber. Section Eight--Elise "Blocks of wood... In the wind... That's all we are..." Delenn tried to shake the words from her head. She knew it wasn't Kosh, because the words almost made sense. She made her way to her quarters and entered, gasping when she saw Lennier with a block of wood and a knife in his hand. "Great Maker, no!" she cried. "What are you doing?!" Lennier looked up, innocent. "It is called whittling," he said. He held up the wood; he'd fashioned it into the shape of John, thinking it would make a good topper for the wedding cake. He hadn't started on the figure of Delenn yet. "No!!!" Delenn cried, diving into the wood shavings around Lennier's feet. "How could you?" she whispered, the shaving sifting through her fingers. "How could you... No, you should not have done this!!" Lennier scowled at Delenn. He might have loved her, but she was disgracing herself in the wood shavings. "What are you doing? I made a GIFT for you! Something pure from my heart and being. How could you deny that?!" Lennier hurled the John figure to the floor; its neck snapped and the head broke off, rolling under the couch. "No!" Delenn cried, chasing the little wooden head. Lennier stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. he thought as he prowled down the corridor. In her room, Delenn was quietly sobbing. She picked up the headless body of the John figure and cradled it against her chest, rocking back and forth. "Super-duper glu..." Delenn's head snapped up. "Kosh?" she asked. But there was no reply. ta-da! ************************************************************************** * "Let's not talk about bombs or brain impulses of severed limbs..." * * --X "Draw the line" * * * * * * * **************************************************************************