From r.owen@student.anu.edu.au Wed Dec 25 01:03:36 1996 Date: Tue, 3 Dec 1996 14:11:20 +1100 From: Ruth Owen To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: Holding Fast Babylon 5 belongs not to me. Please do not repost or redistribute this story without my permission Holding Fast ============ This is set sometime in the near future (post 'Falling Towards Apotheosis' with some spoilers for this episode) and I would rate it PG for one particular scene. Many thanks to my beta readers - Kathleen (once again) and Pfyre for their wonderful insights and invaluable comments and suggestions Holding Fast =========== by Ruth Owen (r.owen@student.anu.edu.au) Something was not right, the man thought uneasily as he walked from his hired flitter toward the front porch of the homestead. It was a feeling of uneasiness which had begun as he had circled the landing pad and intensified during the two hundred meter walk to the house. It was like a nagging itch he couldn't scratch, but he had learned during Ranger training that ignoring your instincts could imperil your life. He unzipped his jacket as the summer sun beat mercilessly down on his head and sweat dotted his brow. He'd definitely been in space too long if a short walk in the heat of summer enervated him so much. He nodded politely to two field hands who were leaning across a nearby fence discussing the prospects of the fall harvest, but they barely twitched an eyebrow in his direction, continuing their discourse as if he wasn't there. His apprehension was raised another notch at this casual attitude to a stranger. When Marcus Cole had given him the package to deliver, the man had warned him to expect a vigilant presence on the farm and that he should exercise extreme caution. So the Ranger had purchased another fake ID at an exorbitant price and disguised himself as a commercial courier. But if this was vigilance, then he was a Vorlon. Casually, he paused to shrug out of his jacket, folding it over his arm and using his actions as an excuse to sweep his gaze around the area again. Sweat trickled down between his shoulder blades underneath the limp cotton of his shirt. It was definitely not right, he thought once more, using the cover of the jacket to finger the hilt of his knife. The young Ranger wished for a PPG but it would have been impossible to smuggle it to Earth with him and even harder to obtain planet-side. The only weapon he possessed was the knife. He had deemed it too much of a security risk to bring his Minbari fighting pike: it would have drawn undue attention from the Customs Agents. The porch steps creaked under his soft-soled boots and he almost smiled despite his tension - it was inevitable that a farm house of this vintage would have steps that creaked. A farm house.... he frowned, his hand frozen mid-air about to press the alert chime. A farm.... He turned, looking out once again over the sun-browned fields.... the *withered* sun-browned fields. *That* was the something that was wrong: the crops hadn't been watered, even though the rivers and catchment areas he had flown over on the way here had been running full. And none of the farm hands were actually *working*, merely standing around discussing the work. The whole thing stank of an elaborate set-up. As if the property had been infiltrated by agents stationed to watch who came and went. Still, he would raise their suspicions if he returned to the flitter now. Steeling his resolve, he activated the chime and heard it tinkle inside. A silver-haired woman answered the door, wiping flour from her hands onto her apron. A nice countrified touch, the Ranger thought sarcastically, but kept his expression carefully neutral. "Yes?" she inquired in a pleasant voice, standing behind the security field. "A delivery for a Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan," he said in a slightly bored tone, presenting his fake ID to the scanner set in the door frame. "I'm Ellen Sheridan," the woman said with a smile, deactivating the screen and stepping out onto the porch. The man had studied the pictures of both Ellen and David Sheridan Marcus had provided before departing Babylon 5 and this woman, although she did bear an uncanny resemblance, was *not* the Captain's mother. He withdrew the 'fake' message crystal from his belt pouch that had been prepared in the event of such a situation occurring. "Would you please place your thumb print on the delivery schedule," he requested handing her the pad. Well, the message should keep them busy trying to interpret its significance, he thought. It was something he had paid an out of work actor in the city to record, claiming to be an old colleague of David Sheridan from his days in the Diplomatic Corps who had a business venture he thought the couple might be interested in participating in. The message had been recorded at a public access terminal and paid for with hard currency, so there was no way it could be traced back to Babylon 5. "Thank you ma'am." He retrieved the schedule and handed her the crystal. "Have a nice day." This mission had been a calculated risk at best, but it had provided the necessary up to date intelligence on Earth's current political and social climate that Sheridan and the others required. It also gave them a chance to evaluate the ease of smuggling people on and off planet in preparation for the showdown which would eventually come. The Ranger had accepted the risks, knowing there was a fairly good chance he wouldn't survive, but his loyalty and respect for his leaders had compelled him to volunteer for the job. He was glad he had sent his coded report back with another courier before coming to this desolate place, he decided as the 'itch' increased to an almost unbearable level. "Thank you," the woman replied, her eyes narrowing infinitesimally as he turned to depart. A prickle started at the back of his neck and traveled uncomfortably down his spine raising goose bumps all over his body. His training with the Rangers had included many varied disciplines and he recognized the sensation: he was being telepathically scanned! Without further thought he whipped the jacket off his arm into the face of woman in front of him and slapped the self-destruct button on the small case containing the real message crystal. Leaping from the porch, he sprinted for the flitter, not actually expecting to make it but determined to give it his best shot. Four 'farm hands' moved rapidly to interpose themselves between him and the flitter, cutting off his only avenue of escape. He skidded to a halt, kicking up a small cloud of dust. Behind him 'Ellen Sheridan' and an older man who he assumed was supposed to be 'David Sheridan' moved toward him, drawing PPG's. He drew his knife as the six closed about him in a loose circle, standing in a relaxed fighting stance. There was a sharp burst of heat from the pouch attached to his belt as the auto-destruct passed the recall period and initiated. He grinned maniacally at the people about him: he would definitely try to take as many of them with him as he could before he passed beyond the veil. //Do not do anything foolish,// a voice echoed in his mind and 'David Sheridan' leveled his weapon at him. The burning sensation at his waist ceased, as if suddenly plunged into icy water. He glanced down at it, dismayed - it was too soon.... Then he realized: one of the people was a telekinetic who could manipulate objects. If that was the case, then that person would possibly be able to prevent him from dying.... leaving the certainty of interrogation by Psi Corps.... He felt panic begin to creep around the edges of his mind. //You understand// another voice said in a malicious tone. //Good. Now, drop your weapon.// The Ranger's thoughts careened about wildly. Better to act now, while the telekinetic's attention was elsewhere.... He reversed the knife and without further consideration slashed it as deeply as he could across his own throat, spraying blood over his would-be captors. Too late, he thought as the stun-beam from a PPG caught him in the side. Too late. The knife slipped from his nerveless fingers as he fell heavily to his knees, then onto his face on the sun-warmed earth. There was no pain now, only a feeling of euphoria as his blood gushed from the wound to soak the soil beneath him and stain it a deep crimson. He almost smiled - how fitting, to have his life force returned to the planet that had given him life in the first place. Slowly he drifted away, the world about him becoming misty and indistinct; his final thoughts a blessing for Entil-Zha and The One and a prayer for his soul; a prayer that would remain forever unfinished as he passed over the great divide.... ##### "Incompetence!" the Psi Cop raged, his coal black eyes flashing dangerously at the agents arrayed before him, still in their 'Farmer Joe' disguises. He could have conducted the dressing-down telepathically, but he enjoyed the dramatic rise and fall of his voice resonating in the room. "You let a rebel agent kill himself!" He turned his burning gaze on the only telekinetic of the group. "You were assigned to this task specifically to prevent such a thing occurring. The man could have possessed vital knowledge about rebel activities!" "Or he might not," the teek responded in a blatantly rude tone. "He may have simply been a drone. When he attempted to destroy the real message, I acted as I thought appropriate. If you'd wanted someone who could have saved both, you should have assigned someone with a higher rating to the detail." The Psi Cop silently cursed all telekinetics - most of them were too insane too be of any use and even those who weren't completely psychotic were flighty at best. Flighty, with a hell of an attitude to boot. //It wasn't a complete loss,// 'Ellen Sheridan' interjected smoothly. //We know he was sent on the mission by someone called Marcus Cole to evaluate Earth security and deliver a message to the Sheridans from their son. We know that he was part of an organization that call themselves Rangers. And that they're all following someone called Entil-Zha or perhaps The One.// The man behind the desk settled back in his chair, his eyes sweeping across the team. Entil-Zha. That was a word which had come up before. The best they'd been able to determine was that it was a Minbari title of some kind. Of course, they had no Minbari handy to confirm this. //Very well,// he sent, as the door behind them opened and a blond haired woman entered. //I expect complete reports from all of you by twenty hundred hours. Dismissed.// The woman watched without comment as the group filed out. //Well, that's what you get for assigning incompetents.// Her mind tone was as insolent as the expression on her face. He could have disciplined her for her lack of respect for a superior.... but he rather thought she would.... enjoy any discipline he meted out. Her 'creators' had wrought far better than they'd expected when they'd overlaid the matrix of the control personality in her mind. //Do you have anything useful to report, or are you just going to stand there pouting at me,// he thought acidly at her. She smiled icily, and produced a data crystal from some hidden pocket with a flick of her wrist. //The analysts have finished the reconstruction of the message,// she almost purred, leaning forward and depositing it on his desk. //I assumed you *did* want a copy of it.// He picked it up, turning it over in his hand. //The first few minutes were lost completely and the quality of the rest of it may not be one hundred percent perfect, but it's the best that could be done given the degradation of the original,// she continued. //Have you listened to it yet,// he asked, sliding it into the reader. //Of course not.// He could hear the sarcastic smile in her tone. //That would be a breach of security.// //Of course,// he agreed in the same tone. //I commend your attention to the rules.// The pair were silent as the message played through. //Well, that was *very* interesting,// she noted, as her superior retrieved the crystal from the reader. //You didn't know?// he asked. //Aren't you supposed to be the *expert* on them?// //It has been more than eighteen months since I was aboard Babylon 5.// She was defensive, crossing her arms over her chest. //You've been there. Did *you* know?// //No,// he admitted, turning the crystal over again in the palm of his hand with a speculative expression. //I wonder how your.... guest.... would react to this.// "You can't be serious!" she said out loud, startled. "There would be no benefit in showing this to him. If anything, it would strengthen his resolve against us and...." He held up a hand to silence her objections. "That is neither here nor there." She looked as if she were about to protest further, but he continued: "*My* decision, Ms. Winters. I wish to observe your guest's reactions...." He headed toward the door, motioning for her to join him. "Have you ever heard the expression you can get more with a kind word and a piece of four-by-two than you can get with a piece of four-by-two alone?" //I think you're paraphrasing incorrectly.// Her tone was a mutter. //Perhaps,// he conceded as they exited the room. //But this may just provide us with just the leverage we need....// ##### The view screen flickered and danced with a snow of interference, like a winter blizzard tearing across the open pastures. Then slowly, as if emerging from the storm, the image began to resolve and the face of a person became visible. The face of a person who he had not seen in over a year, except in the ISN propaganda reports branding him an alien-loving traitor. David Sheridan sucked is a ragged breath as suddenly the image of his son snapped into brilliant clarity. John.... He was still alive. They'd prayed for him daily, but as each month had passed without word it had grown harder to believe he was all right.... harder to believe he was still alive. Unconsciously, the man leaned forward on his stool, trying to absorb every tiny detail. John was sitting on a couch, a picture of a space ship behind him. From what David remembered of the decor, it appeared to be John's quarters on Babylon 5 and the terror receded just a little from his heart: his son was not only alive, but free as well. David tilted his head, studying the soundless image. His son looked.... older. But it was more than that. He had a certain.... aura about him.... a presence that seemed to infuse and warm the room even from the impersonality of a view screen. David regarded the picture with a feeling very much akin to awe. Gone was the rebellious young man who'd run off to see the Dali Lama; the man who'd shyly introduced Anna to his family for the first time; the battle weary captain and even the harried governor. In their place was a leader, a commander who men would die for. A man who knew exactly who he was and what he wanted. David swallowed the lump in his throat with difficulty, wishing Ellen were here to see this as well; to share in this absolutely wonderful gift. Their son.... A crackle emerged from the speaker, and the odd word or partial word began to filter out. Then the audio came through, softly at first, then with growing strength and clarity. "..... with the Vorlons. But we haven't forgotten Earth." John's voice filled the room. He also sounded different: more sure of himself; the hint of his command persona coloring his inflections. "I don't know how long it will be, but we will - somehow - fix everything." His son grinned, and he could see the echo of the younger John in the expression, but the light of purpose still shone brightly and resolutely from the man's eyes. "Babylon 5 has achieved its purpose ten-fold, more than Santiago and the other founders could ever have dreamed possible. There is such a...." John gestured with his hands, looking for the right word, "such a coalescence between the various alien races. I know it won't always be like this, but briefly - if only for a few months - we've managed to unite just about everyone." He shook his head. "It's really amazing. I still wake up some mornings unable to believe all that we've achieved here." He shook his head once again. "I wish you could meet everyone, all the people who have become so much a part of my life. Perhaps...." He left unspoken the hope that his parents would have the opportunity at some time in the future to meet all those people who had become so important to their son. "Well, someday." John smiled warmly at someone out of range of the camera and beckoned them over. "While you can't meet everyone yet, there is someone I want.... well, someone I *have* to introduce you to." He shifted over to make room as the woman sat gracefully beside him. David drew his eyebrows together as his eyes noted her exotic features: she looked familiar. Almost human, but not quite.... "Mom. Dad.... Lizzie, if you're there.... I'd like you to meet Ambassador Delenn of the Minbari Federation." That's where he'd seen her, David remembered as the woman on screen inclined her head in a formal gesture. She had been interviewed by that damn-fool reporter on that '36 hours on Babylon 5' special that had aired a couple of years ago. "I greet you in friendship, Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan." Her voice was as pleasant and as unusual as her appearance. John smiled at her, taking one of her hands between his before turning his attention back to the recorder. "Delenn has been the person who's kept me sane throughout the war," he said. "She's been a friend, a confidant, a shoulder to cry on when I needed it. She's kept me pointed in the right direction, kept me focused on what's really important. Been the co-leader of this rag-tag army of ours. And three weeks ago," John paused, taking a deep breath. "Three weeks ago.... she became my wife." David felt his heart skip a beat then begin to pound rapidly. His.... wife? John had married a Minbari? On screen, the couple exchanged an emotion charged look and John's thumb brushed across the back of her hand as Delenn continued: "We realize this news must come as a.... surprise for you." Surprise? David snorted. That was Minbari understatement at its best. "But I wish you to know I love John unreservedly: with all my heart; with all my soul." John said nothing, his expression eloquently declaring his love for the woman at his side without him having to utter a word. He lifted her hand to his lips, bestowing a swift kiss, before he returned his attention to the camera, his face serious. "We know this marriage is going to cause problems for people of both our races. Prejudices run deep on both sides, but we are doing our part to try and unite our peoples. We've gone into this with our eyes open - we know what we're likely to face. But we aren't afraid. We have each other for the rest of my life, and that is enough." David took a deep breath, wondering at the haunted looked that briefly flitted across Delenn's face, then decided he must have imagined it. He smiled, able to *feel* the love between them - a deep, almost spiritual bond holding them together. If John was happy.... if he was happy, well that was all that mattered. The rest could be worked out later. As if in response to his thoughts, John smiled again, his face radiant. "And yes, just in case you needed to ask: we're very happy together. I love you Dad, Mom, Lizzie. As I said earlier, I don't know how or when - if ever - you'll see this, but all of our love, our thoughts...." "Our prayers," Delenn added. "Go with you," John continued. "May God stand between you and harm...." "In all the empty places where you must walk," David joined in, mouthing the words soundlessly. As one, the couple reached forward and touched their fingers to the screen in farewell. The picture froze with the two of them in that final pose, and David felt his eyes burn hotly with unshed tears. Fierce love and pride welled in his heart. "Hold fast to your love, my children," he whispered. David turned his head away as the door to his cell slid back and his captors re-entered the room. The matte-black of their Psi Cop uniforms blended effortlessly into the shadows around the edge of the room making them appear almost surreal. One moved to stand before him - a woman he had come to know and hate. In the days following his capture, she had repeatedly grilled him on the whereabouts of Ellen and Lizzie - where they had been going, how they planned on getting there, what plans had they made if one of them was captured. Then she had started about John, demanding to know of any recent communication he'd had with his family, and then, finally, trying to force him to admit that his son was and always had been a Minbari spy. The other Psi Cop, one that he had seen only rarely, leaned casually up against the wall, arms carefully folded across his chest, allowing his colleague to conduct the interrogation. Barely average height, his black eyes radiated power and his expression declared that he was a man to be respected and feared. "So, do you still deny your son is a Minbari sympathizer?" she asked, leaning close to him. David didn't bother to reply: there was no point. Anything he thought would be recorded by these two anyway. "Well?" she taunted. "I take it this means you still haven't been able to get your hands on my wife or daughter," he said conversationally, looking at the picture on the screen again. "And now you're afraid John's going to be able to mobilize some sort of force against you and return a democratically elected government to Earth. That would rather put you out of a job, wouldn't it?" "Where is your wife?" the woman asked, her voice as smooth as honey yet concealing the sting of a wasp. "She would be much.... safer.... under our protection." In his mind, David made a derogatory sound at the thought of Psi Corps 'protection.' The woman continued, ignoring his reaction. "Especially once word of your son's *unnatural*," - she made a pretense at shuddering - "alliance is made public. Can you imagine the moral outrage of the ordinary person on the street? And not only that, your family would be obvious targets for.... extremists." David stared at the screen past her shoulder. "Very well," she said, drawing away. "But you may come to regret it in the future." "Regret not giving you another two hostages?" he asked in his best diplomat's voice. "I don't think so." He indicated to the picture on the monitor. "You once said you knew my son, Ms. Winters, so you must recognize the changes that have happened to him. *That* man is a leader and he will do not only what is best for his people but what is best for *all* people. He is a man who without a doubt understands that sacrifices must be made to ensure the good of all. And he will save Earth, no matter what the personal cost is. "I am an old man, Ms. Winters, and I would consider my death to be in a good cause if it helps strengthen his determination to remove you and your kind." The woman stepped away, her eyes narrowed in anger, burning into his soul. She clenched her fist and excruciating pain erupted in his mind. David cried out, falling from the stool. He rolled onto his side clutching his head between his hands as white-hot agony laced through his being. //That is enough!// he heard, then instantly the pain was gone. He looked up through tear-blurred eyes to see the male Psi Cop holding Winters' arm in a vice like grip. The two stood in silent tableau, a conversation David wasn't privy to obviously taking place. They exited the cell without further comment or even glancing in his direction. He sat slowly, then crawled across the floor and pulled himself up onto his bunk breathing heavily. An out of control telepath.... it was frightening. His eyes drooped as he hovered on the brink of unconsciousness. John and Delenn smiled down from the monitor above him, and he had the strangest feeling that they were somehow watching over him. "Hold fast to love," he whispered as unconsciousness reached out and claimed him in her tender, warm embrace. "Hold fast." ############################################ END: Holding Fast ############################################ =========================================================================== Ruth Owen (r.owen@student.anu.edu.au) The Australian National University Canberra, ACT (the place where prostitution, gambling, marijuana and the x-rated video industry are all perfectly legal)