From: Jakhel@aol.com Subject: Infinite Regress 1b: DoubleCross. Chapter 1 of 8(?) Date: Sun, 6 Dec 1998 21:58:59 EST * * * * INFINITE REGRESS 1B: DOUBLECROSS * * * * * This is what happens when you inadvertently eavesdrop on too many Power Rangers and Animorphs stories... The Babylon 5 characters, locations, etc. belong to J. Michael Straczynski and Warner Brothers. The Deep Space Nine characters and Star Trek technology belongs to Paramount and Viacom. The other stray bits are mine (Anne E. Clements). I plan to send this out one chapter a week -- I'm about about halfway done (just finished Chapter 4), so should be Okay through the holidays....also have a few other irons in the fire, as should become apparent shortly! Comments to Jakhel@aol.com ------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 1. Jake knew it was a bad idea from the start. Nog might be his best friend, but he was also an acquisitive, INquisitive little...FERENGI...with no morals to speak of and common sense to match. Now his latest bright idea had left them -- two kids in a 'borrowed' runabout -- STUCK in the middle of the Wormhole. "A sure thing, you said," he sniped at his companion. "Nothing can POSSIBLY go wrong, you said. Just a quick run into the Gamma Quadrant, and even if anyone catches us testing our model cloaking device, we can argue that we weren't REALLY breaking the agreement with the Romulans...but that's all assuming we MAKE it to the Gamma Quadrant -- or home, for that matter!" "Will...you...be...QUIET?" snarled the Ferengi boy through clenched fangs. "I'm TRYING to reconfigure the sensors so that we can find our way OUT of here!" He looked over at the Human. "Besides, YOU believed me!" Jake sighed and came to peer over Nog's shoulder. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked, wondering if he'd even understand the answer. "The tetrion field modulator from the cloaking device is interfering with the sensor array -- even when the debt-ridden thing is offline," muttered the Ferengi. "I remember Chief O'Brien mentioning something about that when they were installing the one on the Defiant." "So, what did he do about it?" asked Jake. "That part I DON'T remember," admitted Nog. "But I think..." he grabbed an instrument from the open toolkit and ducked under the console. "If I reroute the calibration delay back through the navigational evaluator override, that SHOULD compensate for the skew effect..." Jake felt even more useless than usual. "Great!" he said encouragingly. "Um, is there anything I can do to help?" "Yes. Check the external scanners and tell me what they read." Jake touched the appropriate keypoints and peered at the display. "Ah....it says we're at the bottom of an ocean on a Class V planetoid, with three large...uh..." "Never mind, I see the problem...try it again." "Now it says we're in the upper atmosphere of a methane-ammonia gas giant..." "Getting closer!" Nog said cheerily, and made another adjustment. Jake gave his lower half a dubious look and checked the display again. "Um, how about on the edge of a Type 17 subspace anomaly?" "Woops -- too far the other direction. Hold on -- THAT should do it!" Nog popped up and checked the display himself. "Yup, right smack in the middle of the Wormhole. Thanks, Jake! Couldn't have done it without you." "Hey, any time," Jake replied, a little bemused. "Doesn't it...well, doesn't it make you nervous relying on instruments that can be...adjusted like that?" he wondered. Nog looked at him, perplexed. "Nervous? When my uncle looks through the register logs after I've been working the bar, THAT makes me nervous. This is just a technical glitch. Now, give me a second to lay in our course...all right, give me one-quarter impulse." "One quarter, aye," Jake echoed, touching the board. There was a wrench, a screaming whine, all the lights flickered, and something back by the transporter pad shot sparks across the compartment. Jake cut the power, and the two boys looked at each other. A low moan came from behind them. **************** Jason was bored. Bored, bored, bored. Not that this was anything new or unusual -- Jason was bored a LOT of the time. He tossed the comic book in the general direction of a pile in the corner, crossed his arms, and glared around the lab. HIS lab, he thought proudly, just like Dexter on Cartoon Network, or that guy in 'Sliders'. Even when his mom's ex-roommate, Dave the network guru, had lived down here, HE hadn't had so much cool stuff -- more expensive, maybe, since Jason's equipment was all scrounged, scavenged, or picked up cheap at garage sales -- but not as cool, and not as MUCH of it! But Dave had moved on to Silicon Valley a few years ago, and wasn't around to be impressed. For a while they had tried to make this basement room a playroon, but it was too dark and musty -- and Mom hadn't really trusted Jason and his friends down here alone. She still didn't, but since they'd cleaned it all out (briefly) and Jason had started putting his electronics lab together, she'd been so glad to have him INTERESTED in something that she'd pretty much turned a blind eye. "Just be careful," she'd said. "Don't burn down the house, or electrocute yourself, or get sucked into an alternate universe without leaving me a note." Yeah, right. She ought to know about alternate universes -- she'd spent most of his tenth and eleventh years writing some stupid fan fiction stories about them, after all. Now she was working on what she called "the REAL stuff", which was supposed to help pay for his college -- yeah, well, whatever. It still took up way too much of her time, as far as Jason was concerned. But then, she'd always been like that. If she wasn't writing, she was practicing her guitar or recording (although helping out with that WAS kinda fun, he had to admit), or exercising, or jabbering with her friends. Getting her to spend a few hours of quality time playing video games or Magic with her own son was, like, a MAJOR imposition -- SHE always wanted to do STUPID stuff like bike riding, or yardwork, or going to museums -- YUCK. And now that he was in seventh grade, it seemed like his friends were changing, too. Ryan had always been into basketball, but lately it had started getting SERIOUS. Ben and Kevin were a year ahead of him -- they'd be off to high school next year, and then the whole Sonic thing would be dead like doornail, as his mom would say. It was pretty much dead already, he admitted. Let's face it, however well- organized it might be, a club based on pretending to be spinoffs of comic book superheroes really WAS little-kid stuff. He was the only seventh-grader that was really into it -- and that was mainly because he was doing his own comic books on the computer now. So here he sat, bored. His mother's voice floated down the stairs. "Hey, Jase, I'm going to the grocery store. Don't blow up the house while I'm gone." "Okay, Mom," he yelled back, "I'll wait 'til you get home!" The back door slammed, and Jason launched himself out of his chair. There was that one thing he'd wanted to try, but not while Mom was around. He didn't think it would damage anything, but if it worked, he wanted to keep it a surprise. He had an old -- okay, ancient -- tuner/amplifier hooked up to his mother's old college-dorm speakers. The INPUT, though -- he'd jury-rigged a MIDI translator from the computer, to patch directly into the amp. If everything worked right, he should be able to overlay output from the computer -- realtime or recorded -- onto the tuner output signal, adding burps, farts, and/or assorted commentary right onto what came out of the speakers. Excellent for practical jokage. What Jason DIDN'T know was that the old amplifier had been built using some of the earliest solid-state technology, and its internal programming had never been intended to last into the 21st Century. There was even a warning etched into the board in teeny, tiny letters: "Operation of this component after 12/31/99 may result in unpredictable behavior." Of course, the board was soldered in upside-down inside the casing... On the day we are observing, in the autumn of the year 2000, Jason hesitated, waiting for a suitable moment -- there! He touched the keyboard... BBBRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!! With a tremendous burping noise, a bluish light filled the room and the boy touching the keyboard disappeared. **************** Jake and Nog bent over the young Human lying half on and half off the runabout's transporter pad. He looked to be a few years younger than them, with short golden-brown hair, wearing dark blue trousers and a long-sleeved, dark green pullover shirt. "Are you okay?" Jake asked solicitously as the kid looked up out of dazed blue-grey eyes. He pulled himself up slowly and looked around. "Man, I REALLY shoulda taken that right turn at Albuquerque," he said obscurely as he focused on the other boys. "You're Jake Sisko!" he accused, pointing at the Human. "And you're Nog, and we're in a runabout..." he looked out the viewport, "...in the middle of the Wormhole!" "Are you a Wormhole Alien -- a Prophet, I mean?" asked Nog, trying to be pugnacious while scared stiff. The kid gave him a disgusted look. "Of COURSE not. If I were a Wormhole Alien, I'd be all..." he drew himself up rigidly and intoned 'THIS ONE......IS......LINEAR...'" Jake cracked a smile in spite of himself, then thought of something even worse. "Are you a Q?" he asked breathlessly. "Puh-LEEZE," the younger boy scoffed. "Do I LOOK like a Q? Of course," he added thoughtfully, "Qs can look like whatever they want -- sorta like Vorlons that way. Of course, Vorlons are really sorta like baby Qs -- or at least they'd like to THINK they are..." "WHAT?" Jake was thoroughly mystified, more than a little scared, and starting to get irritated. The kid looked back at him, and blinked. Suddenly it seemed to occur to him that all of this was REAL. "Um, can I sit down?" "Oh, sure," Jake replied, waving at one of the empty stations. The kid sat down. He went to rest his elbows on the console, realized it was 'live', and jerked back. "I...um...," he started again, looking out the front viewport wonderingly, "I was just messing around with some stuff in my lab, and then suddenly I was... HERE." "Your lab?" asked Nog. "Well, it's just my basement. I've got some stuff I picked up here and there, and I kinda tinker with it." "Where, though?" was what Jake wanted to know. "You can't be from DS9, and... you ARE Human, right?" "Oh, yeah, I'm from Earth. About three hundred and fifty years ago -- man! I'm in the FUTURE!! A future, anyway." Jake and Nog moaned in harmony. Just what they needed on top of everything else -- a TIME TRAVEL situation! "Wait a minute," said Nog. "If you're from the past, then how do you know who WE are?" "It's 'cause I'm not from YOUR past -- or at least it would be really weird if my future ended up like this," the kid explained. "You see, in my timeline, you guys are a TV show -- " "TV?" puzzled Jake. "Television? Video entertainment? The Boob Tube? Anyway, there's this whole major Future History...THING, called Star Trek, based on the Federation. Starting with the first Enterprise, then Next Generation, which was Picard's Enterprise, then DS9, which is you guys, obviously, and Voyager. They've got movies, and books, and comic books, and this place in Las Vegas...." "Las Vegas? You've GOT to be kidding!" exclaimed Jake, who knew enough history to appreciate what a godawful concept THAT was. "No shit. And they have these conventions, where people walk around dressed up like Klingons, or Vulcans -- or Ferengi," he added with a nod to Nog. "I've never been to one, but I've read about 'em on the Internet." "I don't believe this!" cut in Nog. "If all that had been going on back then, there'd be some record of it!" "That's precisely my point," the boy returned. "This can't be my future, and I can't be from your past. My mom had a theory about it -- that if somebody comes up with a really good story, and enough people believe in it, then it somehow becomes real..." "Yeah, and next we're gonna have Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy in here!" scoffed Jake. "Hey, you never can tell," said the kid. "Anyway, that's the best theory I've got -- take it or leave it. So what are you guys doing way out here, anyway? Are you SUPPOSED to be out here in a runabout by yourselves? "YES," said Nog firmly, at the same time as Jake said, "Of COURSE not!" "Well, it's like this," said Nog, "We had this...opportunity..." "Nog got hold of this experimental model cloaking device..." "Whoa, where'd ya get hold of that?" "Some...contacts...of my uncle Quark." The kid nodded understandingly. "Anyway, we wanted to test it out, but Mr. Straight and Narrow, here..." Nog glared at Jake. The kid snickered. Jake looked disgusted, and picked up the story. "I simply pointed out that the whole basis for the Romulans letting us have the cloaking device for the Defiant was that we wouldn't try to copy it, and that we wouldn't use it in the Alpha Quadrant." "But we WEREN'T copying it! This model came from a completely different source..." "Which I'm sure you'd just LOVE to explain to Constable Odo," put in the kid. "Precisely," agreed Jake. Nog had recovered. "Which is why I suggested we go through the Wormhole into the Gamma Quadrant to test it, which would have worked just FINE if the sensors hadn't bankrupted on us..." "How'd you get hold of a runabout in the first place, though?" the kid wanted to know. "Umm..." Jake ummed hesitantly. "THAT was Mr. Sisko's contribution," Nog supplied. "He got a glimpse of the maintenance schedules and found out that the Mekong was due for a routine checkup run, so we...sort of...distracted the techs who were going to take her out." "Are you guys gonna get in trouble for that?" They looked at each other. Apparently this was the first time that particular complication had crossed their minds. Nog looked at the kid speculatively. "Maybe we can say that...hey, what's your name, anyway?" "Jason. Jason Hayes," replied Jason. "Yeah -- Jason is some kind of telepathic alien from the Gamma Quadrant, and he FORCED us to come get him..." "Oh, come ON!" both other boys protested. "Dr. Bashir would see through that one in a heartbeat," Jason added. "Nope, you guys are just going to have to face the music." "Face the WHAT?" wondered Nog. Once that was explained, they got into an argument about whether to try to go on into the Gamma Quadrant and test out the cloaking device (Nog), head back to the station (Jake), or go back to the Alpha Quadrant and test the cloaking device THERE in an attempt to sneak back in before anyone noticed (Jason). They settled on Jason's plan, and Nog went back to tinkering with the sensors. He found the problem with the navigational interface compensator and readjusted it. They took their bearings and fired up the impulse engines again. This time, everything went fine until they tried to turn around to head back to the Alpha Quadrant. Midway through the turn, the Mekong slewed out of control and seemed to head right THROUGH the wall of the Wormhole. There was a sickening lurch as the inertial dampers were momentarily overwhelmed, and a flare of coruscating light swept across the viewport, to be replaced by the star-spangled blackness of "normal" space. "Umm...was that supposed to happen?" asked Jason dubiously. "Not...exactly," replied Nog. "Did we make it back to the Alpha Quadrant?" asked Jake. Nog checked the readouts. "Well, yes, but..." "But WHAT?" chorused the two Humans. "But we're not anywhere NEAR Bajor. In fact, we're halfway across the quadrant from where we're supposed to be!" "Let me look at that!" Jake peered at the display. "Well, the good news is, we're a LOT closer to home -- Earth, that is -- but...oh, no. Oh..." he let loose with a string of profanity that had the other two boys goggling in admiration. He glared at Jason. "This has got to be YOUR fault!" "Why? What's the matter?" "According to the astronomical readings, the stardate is 1022.6 -- that's in the middle of the year 2264 in Earth reckoning -- we've gone back in time about a hundred years!" Nog groaned. Jason whistled. "NOW what do we do?" asked the Ferengi, plaintively. "Well," put in Jason, "we could try to find Captain Kirk and ask him to do one of those slingshot deals..." "Puh-LEEZE!" retorted Jake. "What are the chances of finding one starship in a whole quadrant? Unless of course you just HAPPEN to know where they'd be along about now?" Jason thought about it. "Umm...no...I never got into the original Star Trek much -- that was my mom's generation. Frankly, I always thought it was pretty dopey." "Let's save the literary criticism for another time, shall we?" put in Nog. "I'm going to check the area for an inhabited planet or a station or SOMETHING..." he suited action to words, and before long hit paydirt. "Here we go. I'm reading massive artificial energy output and lots of lifeforms. Looks like one large installation and a bunch of ships, plus a couple of other things I can't quite identify. They're about twenty minutes from here on full impulse..." "Well, what are you waiting for?" said Jake, so Nog laid in the course. Jake started the impulse engines...and Nog swore in Ferengi. "That doesn't sound good," observed Jason. "Long-range scanners just went offline," Nog explained. "We know where we're going, but we won't be able to see anything until we're right on top of it." "I wonder what ELSE is going to go wrong," complained Jake. "Shut UP!" chorused the other two. Fifteen minutes later, the short-range sensors picked something up. Nog put the viewport on maximum magnification, and two out of three jaws dropped. It was big. It was long. It hung amid a swarm of smaller ships, its central section rotating serenely in the light of the nearby star, framed against the rusty-orange planet it was orbiting. "What in the name of profit is THAT?" breathed Nog. "It's...it's a STATION," whispered Jake. "But it's HUGE!" "The name of the place..." Jason deadpanned smugly, "...is Babylon 5!" --------------------------------------------------------- From: Jakhel@aol.com Subject: Infinite Regress 1b: DoubleCross. Chapter 2 of 8(?) Date: Sun, 13 Dec 1998 21:42:28 EST Jake Sisko and Nog (from Deep Space 9) have picked up an unexpected passenger, and taken a slight wrong turn in the Wormhole... The Babylon 5 characters, locations, etc. belong to J. Michael Straczynski and Warner Brothers. The Deep Space Nine characters and Star Trek technology belongs to Paramount and Viacom. The other stray bits are mine. E-mail any feedback to Jakhel@aol.com. This story will be issued one chapter per week, hopefully on Mondays. When completed, it will also be archived at the Infinite Regress Access Point, http://members.aol.com/irwebsite/. Shameless Plug Dept: If you like Infinite Regress, Wandering Star, Rimstalker, and/or A Dark, Distorted Mirror, you'll LOVE the Virtual Sixth Season. If you like (i.e. are addicted to) writing fanfic, and are in serious B5 withdrawal, you should DEFINITELY consider helping us out with an episode or two. E-mail me for details! ALSO looking for writers to come up with chapters for a Due South/B5 crossover round-robin (I'm working on the first chapter in my copious (cough, hack) free time -- should be out Real Soon Now.) -------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 2. The normal competent background buzz of Babylon 5's Command & Control center was pierced by a sudden sharp call. "Commander, I've got an unidentified ship coming in fast -- unknown configuration -- you may want to look at this." "Where's it coming from?" the station's lanky, chronically serious-looking second in command swung down the stairs into the 'pit' to look over the woman's shoulder, then spit out an uncharacteristic oath. "Hail them," he ordered. "Channel open," came the reply from across the room. "This is Lieutenant Commander David Corwin, Interstellar Alliance Station Babylon 5, to unidentified ship. Please identify yourself." There was no response. Corwin tried again. "This is Interstellar Alliance Station Babylon 5 to unidentified ship. Repeat, please identify yourself. If you are in distress, we CAN provide assistance. Please respond." Still nothing. One last time -- "Babylon 5 to unidentified ship. Do not -- repeat, do NOT approach this station without identifying yourself and advising us of your intent. If you continue to approach, you WILL be intercepted. Please acknowledge." "Commander!" cried the woman again. Corwin looked down -- the blip had vanished. He spent perhaps half a second considering his options, then ordered the Starfuries currently on patrol to take up a defensive formation close to the station, sending two of them out towards the mysterious vessel's last known position. "Do you think it's hostile, sir?" the woman, a competent young ensign in Earthforce uniform, ventured. "All I know is that thing didn't want to talk to us, and it was coming in like a bat out of hell...straight out of Sector 14!" The ensign looked blank, then turned pale as the B5-uniformed lieutenant next to her whispered a quick explanation. **************** "Well, at least now we know your cloaking device works," observed Jason. Jake was coming to the conclusion that the young stranger was just a bit of a smartass. "I still think we should have talked to them, though. Corwin's a pretty cool dude." "So YOU say," retorted Nog. "For all we know, you could be in league with this 'cool dude' to kidnap us and steal our advanced technology." Jason rolled his eyes and looked to Jake for support. It was NOT forthcoming. "Not that I don't believe you..." the older boy explained. "Well, not that I DO believe you, either -- I just think it's better if we play it safe until we have a better idea of what's going on. Reconnoiter, as Major Kira would say." "You mean hang around out here and sight-see? Well, that's okay with me, I guess. This really IS pretty cool." "Speaking of which, what's THAT?" Nog put in, pointing at the array of four gigantic disconnected struts hanging, precisely aligned in space, off the starboard bow. "Oh, that's the jumpgate. Instead of warp drive, they go into what they call 'hyperspace'. You can get from one star system to another really fast, and if your ship can't make its own jump points, you can take a regular ship through the jumpgates." "HYPERspace? But -- but that's just science fiction!" exclaimed Nog. The other boys just looked at him. Moments later, a tiny, X-shaped ship swung by close enough to make out the figure of the pilot inside. "Whoa -- a Starfury!" cried Jason. "Man, I would LOVE to learn to fly one of those!" He started making archaic fighter-pilot noises and dive-bombing the other two. Nog ducked away, disgusted both at the kid's immaturity and at the Starfury's evident limitations. "That's a FIGHTER?" he scoffed. "It can't be very fast -- all it's got are those puny little thrusters!" "No inertial dampers," Jason pointed out. "If they accelerate too hard they'll turn themselves into strawberry jam. Which is one of the reasons the Shadows were kicking their butts. If this is 2264, though, I'm surprised they don't have new ones yet. Delenn SAID Earth would be getting artificial gravity from the Minbari two years ago -- you'd think they'd have worked it into the Starfuries first off...of course the Minbari fighters don't seem to be much faster, so maybe there's some sort of size threshold or something. Which wouldn't affect the Shadows, since their fighters could have been remote-controlled by those pod things...." He trailed off. His eyes went distant, as he watched the passing spaceships against the star-strewn emptiness. "Damn," he muttered softly. "I forgot to leave a note. Mom's gonna KILL me when I get home..." His jaw clenched, and his knuckles turned white on the back of the chair. Jake and Nog looked at each other. "Don't worry," said Jake softly. "We'll figure out a way to get home. ALL of us." "Yeah, well, in the meantime," cut in Nog impatiently. "Do you think there's a chance we could sneak onto this station? Or, what's down on the planet, anyway? Could we go there?" "We could," Jason mused, pulling himself together, "but there wouldn't be much point. The whole planet is this big machine, controlled by this guy named Draal. He's an okay guy and everything, but he'd probably just call B5 and have them pick us up. IF he didn't shoot us down on the way in," he added judiciously. "But we're cloaked!" protested Nog. "I thought you said he was okay!" protested Jake. "Yeah, well, he likes his privacy. And I wouldn't put anything past the Great Machine. You know, when Sinclair and those guys went back to get B4..." "Yeah, yeah, we get the picture." Jake interrupted. "The station it is, then. So the next question is, how do we get in?" They found a spot up under the solar collectors that looked like it would be free of traffic, and set the Mekong to maintain that relative position. Then they replicated a combadge for Jason and walked him through some basic procedures -- medical, navigational, and comm system -- as well as rudimentary transporter and replicator functions. The kid started to look a little overwhelmed. "Don't worry," Jake assured him. "The runabout is set up to be pretty much idiot-proof." "Yeah, even Jake can fly it," sniped Nog. Jason smiled wanly, sticking the combadge to his shirt. "Next question," continued Jake, "where are we going?" They crowded around the sensor display. The main thing we need," declared Nog, "is access to their scientific database. If we can correlate their information with the information the runabout computer has, then just MAYBE we can come up with a way to get home." "I would think so," commented Jason. The others looked at him with mingled doubt and irritation. What did this primitive KID know about such things? "Well, it stands to reason," he protested their dubious looks. "With all that time travel stuff going on in Sector 14, either they or Draal should know SOMETHING that will hook up with what your computer knows about the Wormhole." "Time travel? Here?" asked Jake. "What's Sector 14?" asked Nog. So Jason finally got a chance to explain about Babylon 4. "Tachyon beam, huh," mused Nog, as he started downloading stuff from the computer into a tricorder to take with them. "You got something?" asked Jake hopefully. "Not yet, but there are some possibilities -- okay, let's go." "Go WHERE?" repeated Jake. "Jason, you know the layout of this place. Where can we beam in without attracting attention, and how can we get access to their computer system?" "Actually, I DON'T know all that much about the layout," Jason demurred. "The B5 people were a lot stingier with maps and diagrams than the Star Trek people...I mean, right now I couldn't find my way around DS9 or the Enterprise, but at least I'd know where to look for maps...if I were home, that is..." He peered at the sensor display. After some discussion, they decided to transport into the garden, then try to find their way to the main disembarkation/Customs area. There was some risk of running afoul of Security there, but it was also their best chance of getting data access without identicards. The three boys materialized in a sundrenched clearing in the garden. "THAT was weird," Jason commented. "Not nearly as weird as being flipped into another whole universe," replied Jake. "Good point," conceded Jason. They looked around. Terran grass and flowers filled in the spaces between the four pathways, surrounded by subtly unfamiliar trees. And beyond, far beyond, the walls of the station curved out, and up, and UP, arching ALL the way over, the other side quite clearly visible beyond the monorail(sic), only slightly misted with distance. Jake whistled. "I've heard about stations this big, but I've never been on one," Nog commented. "I was at Spacedock once -- it's about this size, but it's open to space, not green and alive like this," added Jake. "You know, Mrs. O'Brien would really love this place." The other boys "mm'd" agreement. Nog glared at Jason. Then he got back to business and consulted the tricorder. "The fusion reactors are THAT way," he said firmly, "so we go THIS way." They set off. **************** "Hey, Selene, hand me a few of those twist-ties, will you?" "Sure!" the Human girl brushed sweaty black curls off her forehead before fetching a clump of them from the jar beside her. It was hot and muggy in the greenhouse, but that's what these tropical plants needed. The utility room seemed even stuffier, but it wasn't worth sealing it off and resetting the climate controls. "The coffee plants are doing great," Selene commented to her friend, examining the deep red berries. "These should be just about ready to harvest by the time Captain Lochley gets back from Earth." "She'll be glad to hear THAT," agreed the slighter, cooler-looking Centauri girl. "You know, Jaida, this is quite a nice little business we've got going here," Selene mused. "Mmhmm...especially for a couple of twelve-year-old girls. Of course, I was really scared when the Captain found out about those plants Mr. Garibaldi left us. I was starting to calculate decompression rates in the back of my head, based on the volume of the nearest airlock, minus the combined volume of the two of us...plus the plants, of course..." "And remember the look on Mr. Allan's face?" the Human girl cut in, drawing herself up to her full height and assuming a grim expression. "MISTER Allan. I must assume that, as head of Security, either you were AWARE of this situation, and, for whatever reason, neglected to bring it to my attention, or that you were UNAWARE of it, in which case I may need to re-examine your fitness for your position!" Both girls broke into giggles. "I guess it's an awfully good thing she likes coffee!" Jaida concluded, wiping her hands fastidiously on a handy rag. "Umm...excuse me?" a new voice sounded from behind them. They turned, startled, to meet a pair of smiling grey-blue eyes under shaggy golden-brown bangs, peering around the edge of the doorway. "Could you possibly give us some directions?" "Sure," replied Selene, and the boy came on in. He was about her own age, a little shorter than her, and very slender. Another, older, much taller and Afric-colored Human boy followed him, and then an alien of a species she'd never seen before: short, hairless, with huge convoluted ears and goblin-like features. She exchanged a look with Jaida -- the Centauri shrugged. The younger Human was wearing normal clothes, but the other two had on some sort of close-fitting jumpsuits in muted colors. They all had small metallic badges fastened to their shirts, and the alien kid(?) was carrying something that looked like a cross between a datapad and a scanner. "Where are you trying to get to?" asked Jaida. "My...uh...aunt is supposed to be coming in from...uh..." the kid flashed a glance at Jaida's hairless head and close-fitting jacket over full trousers -- "Centauri Prime, and we were supposed to meet her up at Customs, but, uh, Nog here" (he waved at the alien) "wanted a look at the Garden, and we kinda got lost..." The girls looked at each other. The kid was obviously lying about SOMETHING, but what? This looked like a mystery! Jaida nodded, and turned back to the worktable. Selene planted her fists on her hips. "Tell you what. We're almost done here, why don't you help us finish up and we'll walk you over there." "Sure!" said the kid. "Great!" agreed the taller boy, moving to help Jaida. The alien looked like he'd swallowed something sour, but clipped his device to his belt and pitched in. Selene set him and the young Human -- Jason, he said his name was -- to washing out pots, and went back to her coffee plants, keeping an eye on them. Jake peered over the slender, bald-headed girl's shoulder. She looked up -- WAY up -- at him. "I am Jaida, daughter of Ari. And you?" "Oh, uh, I'm Jake. Jake Sisko. Pleased to meet you." He stuck out his hand. Jaida looked at it gravely, as if it were a moderately interesting specimen of plant life, then took it in her own small, strong hand and shook it firmly. "Do you know anything about horticulture?" she asked, pinning him with a cool, leaf-green gaze. "Um, actually, yes -- well, a little..." "Then here." She set a tray of seedlings in his quickly outstretched hands. "These need to be transplanted into these individual pots, with half a measure of nutrient mixture added to each." She watched until she was sure he had it, then went back to her grafting project. Jake cast surreptitious glances over at what she was working on. "You know," he said finally, "my teacher -- she's a botanist, really, but there's not much work for a botanist on DS9, that's the station I live on, so she helps us kids with our tutorials -- anyway, she's got some Bajoran Fire Orchids that look a lot like that, only they're this deep red shading to orange..." The girl smiled, caressing the soft purple petals gently. "That sounds lovely. Where did you say they were from?" "Bajor. That's...uh, well, it's a long way from here." "Out near the Rim?" She looked at him, her eyes wide. "The what? Oh, uh, yeah, out there. It's the planet DS9 used to orbit, before...well, it's a long story." "You Humans have such strange names for your space stations," the girl mused. "Babylon 5, Dee Ess 9..." "Oh -- you're...not Human?" Jake asked, startled. "Of course not, silly, I'm Centauri! With clothes on I know it's hard to tell..." (the boy's milk-chocolate-colored cheeks turned an interesting shade of mahogany) "...but I'd think my not wearing hair would clue you in!" "Not WEARING -- your people do HAVE hair, then?" "Oh, yes. With males, the height of the crest shows social standing. But our females are like yours, not so much into hierarchies, so we keep our heads depilated to show that. Which is silly, because of course it's a bell-curve tendency, so many of our women DO worry about status, and frankly I think the whole species is set a little high for current conditions -- but really, I like it this way." Jake had lost her at the bell curve, but that was okay -- she looped back. "Much cooler, MUCH cleaner, and less trouble." She said, throwing a glance over at her friend. Selene was, once again, pushing her riot of curls back behind her ears. They flopped back almost at once. "Yeah, my dad's been talking about shaving his head," said Jake sympathetically. "He also wants to grow a beard, which I think is REALLY goofy -- just kinda moving the whole thing down, you know?" he gestured descriptively, flashing an engaging grin. Jaida smiled shyly, then returned her attention to her plants. A quick quirk touched her mouth at a stray thought, but she tamed it promptly. "Sort of like the Minbari," she said. "You know how they have that recessive, sex-liked gene for facial hair? Nobody knows where it comes from, since they don't have any OTHER body hair...they're not even mammals, exactly..." the Centauri girl frowned. "How come you didn't know about Centauri crests, though? After all, we were the first people YOUR people contacted, over a hundred years ago." "You WERE? Oh, uh, of COURSE you were! It's just, well, I really didn't pay too much attention to that stuff in school..." she looked at him dubiously. "Here, let me help you with that..." They finished up, cleaned up, and joined the others. The rest of the work went fast, with the extra help, and before long the kids found themselves at the entrance to the main passenger gates. Selene peered up at an "Arrivals" display. "I don't see anything from Centauri Prime here," she said dubiously. "Um, is there a Babcom unit we can use?" cut in Jason. Jaida pointed him at an unused one, and the boys crowded around it. Jake and Nog looked mystified by the menu, but Jason navigated through it quickly. He dead-ended at the access to the science files, though -- they required a special passcode. "Damn!" he swore. "What's the matter?" asked Jaida. "Why are you looking at this stuff, anyway?" asked Selene. "I thought you were here to pick up your aunt." "It's male business," Nog declared importantly. "Nothing you FE-males would understand." The girls looked at each other. "Oh, one of THOSE cultures!" commented Selene. "What's THAT supposed to mean?" asked Nog huffily. Jake and Jason stifled matching snickers, and waited for the fireworks. Instead, though, Jaida explained with meticulous patience. "Many species start out with the males apparently dominant -- Humans, Centauri, Narns, even the Drazi...of course some go the other way, like the Gaim, or the Hayak, or the Dilgar..." "Yeah, well, so much for the Dilgar!" commented Selene caustically. "But anyway," continued the Centauri girl, "as soon as most species get to a technological and economic level such that the primary-parent gender isn't made so vulnerable by breeding, they usually correct that situation pretty quickly. There may be some cultural carryover, but nobody takes it very seriously. So," she added with sweet condescension, "are your people technologically backward, or is your economy in trouble? Either way, I'm sure the Alliance can help, if you let them." Nog's jaw dropped. "Technol...our ECONOMY...our...you...I..." he sputtered. Jake patted him on the shoulder, trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face. "That's all right, Nog, I'm sure that, given a couple hundred year's worth of loans..." "At a REASONABLE interest rate..." put in Jason, grinning. "Your females will be just as assertive as ours are!" Jake gasped, at the end of his strength. The two Human boys fell on each other's shoulders helplessly. "All right, all right, that's it!" Selene cut short the hilarity. "We've played along with you vacuum-heads long enough. It's time for some explanations. REAL explanations," she clarified, as Jake tried to waffle. "Um, can we do this over lunch?" Jason asked. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm getting hungry. Plus, this isn't exactly the place for, ah, complicated conversations." The others agreed, and they repaired to the Zocalo. The girls bought lunch, over Nog's extravagant claims of repayment, which they brushed off with perceptive skepticism. The Ferengi also complained loudly about being forced to eat HU-MON food, but he didn't dare try anything else available, under the circumstances. "Your friend is very...unusual," commented Selene. "I've never seen anyone like him before." Jason agreed. "Yeah, Ferengi are different, even for aliens. They LIVE for profit -- it's like a religion or something. That's why what your friend said was so funny. And their females aren't even allowed to wear CLOTHES. Except that Nog's grandmother -- oh, well, that's a long story, and, actually, it hasn't even happened yet." Selene looked at him quizzically. "You know, NONE of what you guys have said makes ANY sense. You said you'd explain it to us -- so, explain already. And so they did. **************** From: Jakhel@aol.com Subject: Infinite Regress 1b: DoubleCross. Chapter 3 of 8(?) Date: Sun, 20 Dec 1998 19:50:21 EST * * * * INFINITE REGRESS 1B: DOUBLECROSS * * * * Timeframe: Mid-2264. Jake Sisko and Nog (from Deep Space 9) have picked up an unexpected passenger, and taken a slight wrong turn in the Wormhole. Looking for a way home, they end up on Babylon 5, where they run into a pair of young girls who may be able to help them. The Babylon 5 characters, locations, etc. belong to J. Michael Straczynski and Warner Brothers. The Deep Space Nine characters and Star Trek technology belongs to Paramount and Viacom. The other stray bits are mine. E-mail any feedback to Jakhel@aol.com. This story will be issued one chapter per week, hopefully on Mondays. When completed, it will also be archived at the Infinite Regress Access Point, http://members.aol.com/irwebsite/. Shameless Plug Dept: If you like Infinite Regress, Wandering Star, Rimstalker, and/or A Dark, Distorted Mirror, you'll LOVE the Virtual Sixth Season. If you like (i.e. are addicted to) writing fanfic, and are in serious B5 withdrawal, you should DEFINITELY consider helping us out with an episode or two. E-mail me for details! ALSO looking for writers to come up with chapters for a Due South/B5 crossover round-robin (I'm working on the first chapter in my copious (cough, hack) free time -- should be out Real Soon Now.) -------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 3. "Hey, man, nice office." Lt. Commander Corwin quickly swung his feet off the Captain's desk and cleared his throat. Zack grinned. For all his experience and competence -- keeping the huge station running more-or-less smoothly through the Shadow War, the Civil War, and the transition from home base for the Interstellar Alliance back to (at least theoretically) neutral territory -- the guy still jumped like a scared rabbit whenever you razzed him. "What have you got, Chief?" the acting Ruler and God of Babylon 5 asked punctiliously. "Ah, same old same old," replied the head of Security, slinging a folder and attached data crystal across the desk. "A few pickpockets, coupla bar brawls....been pretty quiet lately. This keeps up, I'll be out of a job." "Must be nice," commented the other man absently as he flipped through the folder. "Me, I can't WAIT until the Captain gets back. I don't know what was so important they had to call her all the way to Earthdome for it -- and I probably don't WANT to know -- but it makes me nervous. And the quieter it is, the more nervous I get. Call me paranoid, but it's like something godawful is just WAITING to happen." "Yeah, so what else is new. You ARE paranoid, and so am I, and we've both got good enough reason for it! But if there IS anything 'waiting to happen', as of this morning it's still waiting. Right now the biggest headache I'VE got is those smugglers coming through from the Rim." "Still no good leads on that?" Corwin found the relevant page and snorted in disgust. "Damn. High tech parts and equipment, from species we've barely even HEARD of, coming right through the heart of the Alliance without us being able to lay a finger on them. That just burns my....well. Anyway, we've got to find a way to stop it." "Yeah, but as long as member races think they can get some kind of advantage over their neighbors by smuggling in unregistered tech, we're gonna have this kind of thing." "Mm. And then half the time they turn around and register it themselves, and grab all the credit -- in BOTH senses of the word!" "It's a dirty business," Zack agreed. "We've narrowed it down to three or four major players and a dozen or so small fry. If we could just take out one of the big guys, that might at least convince the others to keep it off the station." "Which would be a mixed blessing," the younger man pointed out. "Less embarrassing for us, maybe, but harder to track." "Yeah, well, that puts it right smack into Tessa's court, and I ain't gonna lose a whole lotta sleep over passing THAT buck. She's had it too easy lately, anyway -- vacationing on Mars, yet. Scuttlebutt is she talked Franklin into taking some leave, too, the lucky...I mean, geez, I don't even REMEMBER the last time I had a vacation." "What's that?" Corwin looked up, all wide-eyed deadpan innocence. **************** "THAT is your schedule for the next three days, Ambassador. You will note the following meetings..." The Centauri Ambassador tuned out his aide's staccato blathering. Meetings, receptions, conferences, more meetings...and nothing ever really got RESOLVED. Only more endless bickering over technicalities, precedence, procedures, protocol...TRIVIA. No wonder his predecessor had developed the habit of slipping his leash and spending his time at the Casino. Vir sighed. Unfortunately, he didn't have that luxury. Not only was he cursed with that deleterious mutation known as a conscience, but he was doubly cursed with a supercilious, self-righteous PRIG of an attache. Whatever spiritual debt he had incurred by persecuting Londo in his own days as an attache were being paid back now, with OVERLY generous interest. "Enough!" he erupted finally, his placid, almost bovine expression hardening into anger. "OUT! I will call for you when I need you!" "Oh, there was one other thing, Ambassador," the young man called on his way toward the door. "What?" "There are some...children who wished to speak to you." He said "children" in the same tone of voice as he would have said "Pak'ma'ra". "Children?" echoed Vir, completely mystified. "Yes, Ambassador. Shall I send them away?" he asked hopefully. That was enough for Vir. "No -- no, send them in. I can take a few moments. Just...send them in." The attache bowed and left, looking like he'd been sucking on Earth lemons. A moment later, the door whined open and five young people filed into the room, hovering near the entrance. Three of them looked to be just entering their teens, the other two somewhat older (if one could judge the age of a creature as alien as the short one). The Centauri girl looked vaguely familiar -- she curtsied prettily, and Vir waved them on into the room. "How may I help you, Demoiselle...?" "Jaida, daughter of Ari, of House Tefano. My father works in the Garden here..." "Of course! Ari Tefano! Do you know, we used to have the most marvelous talks about, um, soil conditions and the best light for growing lavia shrubs indoors...my, the last time I saw you you were much....um..." "It was three months ago, Ambassador, at the Emperor's Ascension Day festival." "Oh, yes, that's right, I remember now. Well! How have you been?" Vir's expression flashed to concern. "Is your family all right?" "Yes, they are fine, Ambassador, thank you for asking. My father and I are both well, and our cousins back home are...as well as can be expected." "Yes, yes, I understand." He paused, reflecting, then gathered himself together. "So, what can I do for you young people?" "This is my friend, Selene O'Hara," she introduced the dark-haired girl. "You may remember her..." "Of course, of course! Your sister works at the Dark Star, doesn't she? Lovely girl. Not too...outgoing, if you know what I mean, but very...ah...self-confident, which is always a good thing...and these gentlemen?" Jaida and Selene exchanged a look. "That's...what we wanted to talk to you about." Briefly, they explained the situation, hoping the Ambassador wouldn't think they were crazy. Fortunately, the Ambassador had seen far too many bizarre things in his time on Babylon 5 to jump to any hasty conclusions. "So," he concluded, "you boys are from an alternate universe..." "TWO alternate universes," corrected Jake, holding up two fingers. "TWO alternate universes," echoed Vir, holding up two fingers. "-- and you're Anne Hayes' son? I'd always thought of you as being..." (he made baby-size gestures). Jason was confused. "Wait a minute. How do you know about my mom?" "Well, she was HERE," explained the Ambassador. "-- I mean, I didn't get to talk to her much, but..." "What do you mean she was HERE? She wrote a story about coming here, but..." "I mean, she was HERE. Almost three years ago, it would have been -- right before President Sheridan's inauguration. Of course, it was only for a few days, but..." Now Jason was THOROUGHLY confused. "I gotta sit down," he said faintly. The Ambassador waved him to the couch. "You mean, my mom was REALLY here? And she and Garibaldi REALLY..." "Well," said Vir judiciously, "I don't know any of the details, of course, but they seemed quite friendly..." "Oh, boy," said Jason, propping his chin on his hands. He noted in passing that the ambassadorial quarters, which in Londo's day had been done up in baroque red velvet and gold leaf, had been redecorated in more comfortable browns and greens. Even the obligatory oil painting of the new ambassador (in a quite uncomfortable-looking haughty pose) hung, slightly askew, off in a corner. After a moment's thought he perked up. "Wait a minute -- " he snapped his fingers. "I know what happened! That wasn't MY mom, that was ANOTHER me's mom! The one MY mom wrote about!" The others were lost -- but Jake got it. "You mean, YOUR mom wrote a story about another version of herself coming here, and it really HAPPENED?" Jason nodded. "Exactly." Jake plopped down on the couch beside him. "Wow. That's enough to make me wonder if I really DO want to be a writer!" Nog looked around the room suspiciously. "Computer, end program!" he said firmly. Nothing. "Damn." The other boys glared at him. He shrugged. "Well, it was worth a try." Vir's glance darted between the two older boys -- something was stirring in the back of his brain. "Now, where is it you two are from, again?" Just then the door bleeped. It was the attache, obviously very upset. "Ambassador! Come quickly! Something terrible has happened!" "Volga, I thought I told you..." "But, Ambassador, this is an emergency! It's the Narns -- the Narns have detained one of our citizens and they say they will EXECUTE him!" "But why? We're at peace with the Narns -- things have been going so much better lately -- why now?" "They say this man is a war criminal -- that he was responsible for the atrocities committed at the Na'Skath labor camp on their homeworld after we bombarded it. But according to our records, he was only a minor functionary, and could not have had the authority to order -- or prevent -- any of the things they say happened. The Narns will not listen to anyone below your level, Ambassador -- you must intervene, demand that they stop this!" "Of course, of course. This is terrible -- " he turned to the children. "If you will excuse me..." "Of course," replied Jaida. "Yeah, but just be sure the guy is who he SAYS he is," advised Jason. Vir stopped short. "What? What do you mean?" Jason shrugged, then looked to Jake. "Remember that guy Kira was after, and everybody thought she was nuts, but then it turned out he really WAS the guy she was after?" Jake snapped his fingers. "Marritza! Or Gul Darheel, I should say. That was the first time I tried to do a multiple point-of-view story...it didn't work very well. But he's right, Ambassador, you might want to check your records again. Back on Deep Space 9..." "Deep Space..." echoed Vir. His eyes widened. "You're THAT Jake Sisko? THE Jake Sisko?" He looked at Nog. "And you're Quark's son! I KNEW you looked familiar!" "That's NEPHEW!" Nog corrected emphatically. "Oh, yes, I'm sorry," Vir apologized. "Your father is that pleasant chap who's so good with the...um...things..." "How do you know all this?" asked Jake. Vir looked a little sheepish. "Well, after Jason's mother...left, I looked up those old vids and...well...I got hooked. I guess you could say I became sort of a 'closet Trekkie'. Did you know, there are still Star Trek fan clubs -- mostly on Earth, but a few on some of the other worlds. I thought briefly about starting one on Centauri Prime, but...it didn't seem like the time, somehow. Come to think of it, I think I DO remember the episode you're referring to. In fact..." he hustled over to the media storage cabinets. "Ambassador, we don't have TIME for this..." the attache protested. "It will only take a moment," Vir assured him. "Let's see, first season, second season, here we go -- 'Duet' -- " He popped the crystal into the port, fast-forwarding to critical parts of the show and studying them intently. The kids watched, too, fascinated. "Whoa, I never noticed before, but isn't that the same guy that played Enabren Tain, later?" noted Jason. "I wouldn't be surprised," said Jake. "They're cousins." "How do YOU know?" asked Nog. "I told you, I tried to write a story about it, from Darheel's point of view and that of one of the people at the labor camp. So I did some background research on Darheel." "How did the story come out?" Jason asked. "It was awful. I got about halfway through and deleted it." "Bummer." "All right," said Vir decisively. "Mr. Jaddo, I want all records of that labor camp, and all records on this man, and ask Dr. Hobbs to please run a DNA check to confirm his identity beyond any shadow of a doubt. We need to be ABSOLUTELY sure what we're dealing with. If he is innocent, we will present an airtight case to the Alliance. And if there is any chance that he was responsible for any atrocities, we will insist on a fair trial, and a fair punishment." "But, Ambassador..." "Enough, Volga. See to it. I expect a report within the hour." The young attache set his jaw and drew himself into a stiff bow. "Of course, Ambassador." He left. Vir exhaled in a worried "whoof". "I don't know WHAT I'm going to do with Volga. He's very efficient, very conscientious, it's just that sometimes..sometimes he makes me CRAZY!" "Can't you request someone you get along with better?" asked Jake. "No," sighed Vir. "There are reasons...and besides, it's something I've got to learn to deal with." "After all," Jason pointed out, "it's only going to get worse." "Why do you say that?" the Ambassador asked, suspicious. "Well, when you get to be Emperor..." "Sssshhh!" Vir shushed him, looking around the room reflexively. "How did you know about THAT?" "I TOLD you..." "Oh, yes, about being Anne Hayes' son, and the Babylon 5 vid...it's still a little hard to believe, though. I mean, you could just have had very good information..." "Speaking of information," put in Nog, "While you're waiting for the report on your mystery man, perhaps you could help us find the information WE need." "Oh, yes, of course. Now what was it you were looking for, again?" Nog explained what they needed -- access to the station's scientific files, plus any information amassed by the Alliance on time travel, hyperspace, and any other abnormal space/time conditions they may have run across. A pretty tall order, and Vir hastened to point out that, the Centauri being adamant in their official policy of economic and technological isolationism, the data clearance of the Centauri Ambassador only extended to what was "common knowledge" among the Alliance races. However, he did manage to call in a few favors from some of the other delegations, and soon the kids were deep into analysis of a wealth of data. Unfortunately, most of it was irrelevant to their current situation. Jaida and Jake slogged through the bulk of the information, passing files that looked relevant on to Nog for further analysis. Selene and Jason took a more intuitive approach, pursuing odd threads into odder conceptual regions... "One thing I don't understand," mused Jaida. "From what you say, the only species that occurs in both our universes is the Humans. Even if it IS a different universe, it's the same galaxy -- aside from the specific differences in the way events occurred, evolution in general should have proceeded similarly. Why does your universe have no Centauri, no Narns, no First Ones, for that matter? One would think they would be constant, since they evolved before the younger races." "Yes, and where are our Klingons, our Vulcans?" added Vir. "I've been to the planet your Vulcans are supposed to be from -- it's nothing but a barren desert!" "Vulcan IS a barren desert," explained Nog. "I think I know the answer," said Jake. "It's precisely because your timeline DID develop the 'Star Trek' vids. There must be some underlying principle that...I don't know how to put this, exactly...that keeps one universe's 'fiction' from turning out to be too closely related to its own 'reality'..." "Unless the person writing it is really telepathic, or precognitive, or otherwise clued in to a bigger picture than everybody else," pointed out Jason. "Yeah, it's got to be some kind of sliding scale kinda thing," agreed Jake. Jaida nodded thoughtfully. "This stuff makes my head hurt," observed Selene. "Hey, Nog, how about this? Didn't you say something about 'polaron energy' a few minutes ago?" "Let me look at that," Nog elbowed her out of the way. A few minutes later, he thought he had it. "YES! If I use a diphasic polaron demodulator to uncouple the subspace harmonics of the tachyon interference patterns in the Rift...." He trailed off into incomprehensible technogibberish for a while. The others looked at each other and shrugged. "Now all I need to do is find a diphasic polaron demodulator..." Nog scanned through the station's published list of available merchandise. "Nothing! That technology isn't even REGISTERED here as anything but speculation. What is WITH these backward sons of poverty-stricken centicred-pinchers, anyway?" "Well, maybe I can make some inquiries for you among the other Alliance delegates. There may be some things they haven't published yet..." "That would be great, Ambassador," said Jake earnestly, trying to make up for Nog's incivility. "We really appreciate all your help...and if there's anything we can do for you in return..." "Yeah," put in Jason. "In a lot of ways the Federation is ahead of you guys, maybe they have something that could help you -- what with trying to rebuild Centauri Prime and all..." "Wait a minute," protested Nog, "That's right. How do we know HE won't betray us, and steal our advanced technology for his own people?" Vir looked surprised, then thoughtful. "I never thought of that. I suppose I should, actually. I would think technological assistance from another universe would be allowable...of course I'd have to check the latest regulations -- they change them so often, it's practically impossible to keep up with all the little details, you know." Jake and Nog looked at each other, lost. Jaida and Jason looked at each other, amused. Selene looked at the ceiling as the Ambassador rattled on. "But, you know, with all the...ethically questionable things I have to do as Ambassador -- and, as you say" (to Jason), "it's only going to get worse -- maybe the gods will, you know, let me kind of slide on this one." He beamed at them kindly. "This may take a while. Do you kids have anyplace to stay for the next few days?" "Well, there's the runabout," Jake said doubtfully, "but every time we use the transporter, we have to drop the cloak, and eventually someone's going to see us..." "Yeah," Jason agreed, "it would be better if we could find someplace on the station to stay -- somewhere the Ambassador can find us if anything comes through..." "And I need to find someplace where I can check out any less...conventional sources..." added Nog. "The Dark Star!" chorused Selene and Jaida. "There's a back room I crash out in sometimes when Trish works late and I don't feel like going home alone," the Human girl went on. "I'm sure I can talk her into letting you stay there, and you won't need an identicard or anything. If you're willing to help out in the kitchen, I'll bet she'll even throw in a few free meals." "I could stand that!" exclaimed Jake. "We'll try it, then," decided Jason. He looked at the Ambassador. "Let us know when you find out anything -- and good luck with the Narns!" **** From: Jakhel@aol.com Subject: Infinite Regress 1b: DoubleCross. Chapter 4 of 8(?) Date: Tue, 29 Dec 1998 23:54:45 EST Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! Sorry this didn't get out Monday, but I was at my parents' and the secondary alias thang didn't go through. * * * * INFINITE REGRESS 1B: DOUBLECROSS * * * * Timeframe: Mid-2264. Jake Sisko and Nog (from Deep Space 9) have picked up an unexpected passenger, and taken a slight wrong turn in the Wormhole. Looking for a way home, they end up on Babylon 5, where they run into a pair of young girls who may be able to help them. After discussing matters with Ambassador Cotto, they split up. The Babylon 5 characters, locations, etc. belong to J. Michael Straczynski and Warner Brothers. The Deep Space Nine characters and Star Trek technology belongs to Paramount and Viacom. The other stray bits are mine. E-mail any feedback to Jakhel@aol.com. This story will be issued one chapter per week, hopefully on Mondays. When completed, it will also be archived at the Infinite Regress Access Point, http://members.aol.com/irwebsite/. Shameless Plug Dept: If you like Infinite Regress, Wandering Star, Rimstalker, and/or A Dark, Distorted Mirror, you'll LOVE the Virtual Sixth Season. If you like (i.e. are addicted to) writing fanfic, and are in serious B5 withdrawal, you should DEFINITELY consider helping us out with an episode or two. E-mail me for details! ALSO looking for writers to come up with chapters for a Due South/B5 crossover round-robin (I'm working on the first chapter in my copious (cough, hack) free time -- should be out Real Soon Now.) **** Chapter 4. Jaida was due home, so left them reluctantly at her level of Brown Sector. The others headed on to the Dark Star. They found Selene's sister Trish in the back room poring over the inventory logs. Nog looked around with professional curiosity while Selene gave her sister a carefully edited version of the day's events. The manager, a thin young woman with long dark hair pulled into a businesslike knot at the back of her neck, looked the boys over skeptically. "Well, I guess they can crash in the back room for a couple of days -- IF they make themselves useful." "Thanks, Ms. O'Hara," Jake grinned ingratiatingly down at her. "You're welcome. And it's LIVINGSTON," she snapped back. "I may have half that loser's genes, but at least my mother didn't saddle me with his name. Now, we don't get many customers this time of day, so I don't have anyone else here normally, but it would be nice to be able to concentrate on this..." she gave the datapad a disgusted look "...STUFF. Do any of you know anything about tending bar?" "That would be me," replied Nog. "AND me!" added Jake. Nog looked at him. "Well, I've helped out at my grandfather's restaurant. That's close." "Close enough," Trish agreed as she herded them back out front. "You two can make a run to the market on 37," she added to Selene and Jason. She poked at her data pad, and the register console spit out a flim strip. "There's the list -- and be sure the produce is fresh this time!" "Um, the credit?" Selene asked pointedly. "Oh, yeah." The woman worked the pad again, authorizing Selene's identicard to draw on the bar's account. "She forgot last time," Selene told Jason, "and the draz at the produce stand thought I was trying to snork him." "Trying to WHAT?" "Snork him. You know, steal his stuff." She twigged to the culture shock -- "oh, wow, I never thought of that. It must be from, like, trying to siphon off someone else's air -- you know, like a snorkel?" she made a long slurping sound, and tbey went off laughing. ***** The Tefanos' apartment was small by homeworld standards, but large for a space station: a moderate-sized main room, two small sleeping-rooms (alcoves, really, with just enough space for a sleeping couch and storage built into the wall between them) and a 'fresher screening the kitchen area from the door. Jaida quickly changed into an at-home dress and ran her work clothes through the cleanser. She always liked to get that done the day before, so she could take time to study in the morning when her mind was fresh. She lingered over her schoolwork, reading ahead as usual, and barely had supper started when Ari Tefano came in the door. He looked tired -- he was looking more and more tired these days. She smiled brightly at the grizzled Centauri, and he dropped a fond kiss on the top of her head. "And how is my little bellflower? Did your day go well?" "Very well, father. I finished the dihanyas and repotted the xallia. I'm worried about the pryhandi vines, though. I don't think they get enough sun where they are." "I'll take a look at them tomorrow," the old man promised. The thud of a boot hitting the floor made her smile. She ladled some stew onto the last two place-settings of her mother's bridal dishes. The rest had been lost or broken over the years, but Ari refused to eat dinner off of plastic -- or, gods forbid, new china. Dinner was quiet that evening. Tefano was ruminating over the next few days, weeks, months of his complex work schedule, caring for plants on several dozen different seasonal cycles. Jaida was ruminating on the newcomers, and this adventure that had, literally, walked in on them. Shaheela, goddess of mischief and small appliances, knew it wasn't the first Selene had gotten her into, but it might well prove to be one of the most interesting. The door bleeped as Jaida was clearing up the dishes, while Ari relaxed in his Earth antique recliner with his copy of Universe Today. (The recliner had been passed down from Ari's great-grandfather, who had acquired it under curious circumstances which we need not explore at this juncture). "I'll get it," the girl called, wiping her hands on her apron. "Come in? -- Oh! My Lady!" The cause of her exclamation was a Centauri gentlewoman of grand proportions and a certain age, in full regalia. She swept into the Tefanos' small apartment like a sailing ship of old, trailing four dimmer satellites in the form of her sister and nieces. Five sets of formal Centauri after-dinner dress was at least three more than the living area was designed to handle, but Ari and Jaida eventually got their guests settled. The redoubtable Lady Brettaria was shown to the recliner, and her sister Lady Udrun and Udrun's daughter-in-law Mistress Prythia were ensconced upon the couch. Udrun's own daughters, Aliov and Sirin, daughters of Minz, were accommodated by the chairs from the dinner table, while the householder and his daughter stood, somewhat nervously, near the kitchenette. The Lady Brettaria was the oldest daughter of an ancient noble house on Centauri Prime -- so ancient and noble that the lustre of its name had been practically the only thing left to it, even before the troubles of the last ten years. Her early marriage-alliance to a much younger, but economically vigorous House had been of assistance in securing a more socially appropriate settlement for her sister Udrun, who had married Minz Jaddo, brother of Lord Urza. Urza Jaddo's disgrace and death in 2259 had left his family under the protection of his slayer (murderer, executioner, or liberator, depending on how one looked at it), then-Ambassador Londo Mollari. When Lady Brettaria's husband died, and his nouveau riche family had cheated his childless widow out of her rightful portion of his estate, she had joined her sister's family in their genteel retirement. Cut off from her accustomed social circles, she had taken over the reins of her new household, where she maintained the ancient forms with awe-inspiring rigidity. Alas, when the Alliance forces had bombarded the capital, the outlying estates of House Mollari, ironically enough, were among the worst ravaged. Minz himself, Urza's sons and their families, and several other cousins had been killed, and the remaining Jaddos left homeless. A few lesser months after Emperor Mollari's ascendance, when the new Emperor found the leisure to attend to such matters, he had summarily appointed Minz's surviving son, Volga Jaddo, attache to Ambassador Cotto on Babylon 5, stipulating that he take his entire remaining extended family with him. Thus Volga's aunt, mother, sisters, and three cousins (four, counting the baby), as well as his wife, had been packed up along with him to his new appointment. The knowledge that their well-being was directly dependent on the acceptable performance of his duties perhaps accounted for a measure of what might be perceived as excessive zeal. Lady Brettaria opened the proceedings with a polite, if cursory, inquiry as to the health of Ari, his daughter, and their family back on the homeworld. This attended to, she embarked on a more detailed inquisition regarding Jaida's education, particularly in the domestic and fine arts. "Ah," the gardener replied, "my Jaida is quite the scholar, my Lady. She recently passed her third-level exams in biological sciences, which most students do not complete for another three or four years. She is," he smiled fondly down at her, "altogether a delight to me." "Yes, well that is all very well, but what of her progress in music? Does she play the byon? The xilliran?" "Well, no..." "I have been putting together some programs with Minbari wind-chime samples..." the girl spoke up, against her own better judgement. She was rather proud of those programs. "That is hardly the same thing, my dear," Lady Brettaria assured her. "The discipline of practice, the poise that one acquires in performing before others, these are the true fruits of artistic endeavour." Jaida started to reply, but heeded her father's surreptitious jab and murmured acquiescence. "And your drawing? Wax painting? Do you play at pentille, perhaps?" Jaida was constrained to disavow any pretensions to the arts practiced by Centauri ladies of fashion. Lady Brettaria seemed rather gratified than disappointed, however. "I have several acquaintances, among the better Centauri families on this benighted station, whose daughters attend a schola administered by two sisters, widows of very good reputation. I have visited their premises myself, having a certain...interest in the fortunes and education of...some of our young ladies...and found them most unexceptionable. I could arrange a place for Demoiselle Jaida, if you wish." The great lady sat back to receive the gracious thanks she knew to be her due. Jaida cast a beseeching look at her father, which he interpreted correctly. "I am...most appreciative of the offer, your ladyship, however, given our station in life, I believe a practical education is more suitable for my daughter. With the...unfortunate conditions at home, and the uncertain nature of our futures abroad, I would not wish for her to become accustomed to ways of life that may not be...sustainable." "Your concern is commendable, but excessive, Mr. Tefano," the lady declared. "I assure you that my influence, which is not inconsiderable at the Imperial Court, since, as you know, my family is allied with House Mollari," Ari and Jaida exchanged a look -- 'allied' was an interesting way of putting it! "will more than suffice to shelter those under my protection from any untoward circumstances." Jaida wondered idly if plasma bolts gouging flaming furrows through one's drawing room from orbit qualified as 'untoward circumstances'. It was the 'under her protection' part the girl found truly disturbing, however. And, 'SOME of our young ladies'? She'd been half-expecting, half-dreading this visit for weeks now. A chance encounter with Lady Brettaria and her entourage during the Emperor's second Imperial Ascension Day observances on the station had resulted in a growing acquaintance which was bound to include an "informal" after-dinner visit at some point. That point was apparently now. On the homeworld, of course, the humble Tefanos would hardly qualify as "polite society", since even the scion of a long line of Imperial Gardeners was, when it came down to it, one of the staff. The upper echelons of the bourgeoisie, to use the nearest Human equivalent (however mortifying it might be to Jaida's maternal relations to admit as much). However, with only 20,000 or so Centauri in residence on the station, in order to provide a circle of acquaintance large enough to occupy the Lady Brettaria's attention and skills, she had been constrained to broaden (never say "lower") her standards to some degree. It was precisely that degree of broadening which caused Jaida concern. As a noble but impoverished widow, still possessed of a certain dignified grace of person, the attache's aunt might well consider a suitable remarriage as a desirable alternative to continued dependence on her young nephew. She might also be inclined to...broaden her requirements for said suitability -- increasingly so as her circumstances were inevitably borne in upon her, and as her acquaintance with Jaida's father (an estimable man in many regards, Jaida was forced to acknowledge) improved. Fortunately, Mistress Prythia had picked up the conversational ball, and diverted the subject from the Tefanos' domestic arrangements. "Of course you are correct, my lady," lisped the younger woman, her fair eyebrows drawn up in fashionable disdain, "however, those who are not so fortunate do well to pursue more pragmatic skills." "Indeed," the Lady Udrun agreed. Sunk into the couch in a froth of skirts framing her plump form and powdered decolletage, she had til now contented herself with depleting the Tefanos' modest stock of expensive party snacks. "One must feel for those poor unfortunates who are unable to manage under recent conditions. Why, I heard just the other day that they were building seventeen -- or was it twenty-seven? At any rate, they are building a great many more of those...."mutual empowerment enclaves", as they call them. I daresay it's a good thing, of course, giving the poor people whose homes were destroyed in the attack somewhere to go, to build new lives..." The younger of the Jaddo sisters snorted. "Labor camps, that's what they are," she declared, heedless of disapproving glares of Lady Brettaria and Mistress Prythia. "Rounding up anyone who can't prove gainful employment 'contributing to the rebuilding of our great Republic' and essentially confining them to these...enclaves, using them for cheap labor. It's just like what we did to the Narns..." a storm of protest arose. "Speaking of Narns," broke in the older sister. "Remember Harn's Narns? The story that boyfriend of yours back in the capital told us, about the man at Na'Skath Camp who was getting Narns smuggled offworld? Perhaps you should start up a program like that to bring people from the enclaves here, Sirin. I'm sure they'd all be terribly grateful, and there are bound to be plenty of idle, shiftless young men among them -- just the kind you like!" "At least I like men who are young, and handsome, and interested in ME, Aliov. You don't see ME nursing a hopeless crush on a homely middle-aged man who doesn't even know I'm alive, even if he IS the Ambassador!" "Girls! Enough! What kind of example is this to set for the Demoiselle Jaida and our...esteemed host," chided Lady Brettaria, with a fond look at Ari. Lady Udrun made supportive disapproving noises as she rummaged in the nut bowl. "Did you say this man's name was Harn?" Jaida asked anxiously. Could it possibly be...? "Oh, yes," Sirin tossed her head, whipping its daringly braided tail about her bare shoulders fetchingly. "He was supposed to be a records clerk or something, but he was really working with the people here. It was all hushed up, of course. Even the Narns whose records he...adjusted didn't know whom they had to thank. My...gentleman friend only knew about it because one of HIS cousins was Harn's contact at the Transport Guild." "I believe we have discussed this distasteful topic quite enough," declared her aunt, and the conversation was steered to more innocuous areas. After perhaps half an Earth hour more of this (including several elegantly dropped hints as to the ladies' social schedule -- parties, recitals, and this evening's grand opening of a new Centauri restaurant in Red sector, all of which Jaida certainly HOPED went over her father's head), the ladies took their leave. As Jaida and Ari cleared away the debris, the girl quickly filled her father in on the situation with the Narns and their captive. "Do you think it could be the same man, father? That would be so terrible!" "The Universe is generous with irony, my dear. I would not be at all surprised if it were so. However, I'm sure the Ambassador will discover the truth of the matter, and do whatever needs to be done." "But what if he doesn't find out? They said it was kept quiet..." Ari sighed. "I probably shouldn't tell you this -- and you must promise never to tell anyone else -- but you are a good girl, and I don't want you worrying about this. Ambassador Cotto -- well, he was the envoy to Minbar at the time, but the whole scheme was his to start with." "Ambassador Cotto?" Jaida repeated in amazement. "I never...I mean, he doesn't seem like the kind of person who could set up something like that. How did he keep Ambassador Mollari -- I mean, His Imperial Majesty -- from finding out?" "Well, of course, it did come out eventually, and Londo made him stop -- although I heard rumors...but that doesn't matter now. The important thing is, if this man Harn was part of Mr. Cotto's organization, he will certainly ensure that no....mistakes are made." "But...what if he doesn't remember? Or never dealt with Mr. Harn directly? We must let him know, father!" Reluctantly, Tefano agreed, and they put through a Babcom call. Mr. Jaddo answered, and informed them that Ambassador Cotto was busy, and would return their call as soon as his schedule permitted. "Well, that's just WONDERFUL," Jaida huffed as the call ended. She stood, fists on hips, foot tapping, as her father watched, torn between pride and concern. "The ladies DID say something about a restaurant opening," he offered. "I could go and see if the Ambassador is there..." "No! I'll go," Jaida said quickly. "I can get there faster, and...and you've had a hard enough day already. I'll be back soon." She snatched up a wrap against the chill of the corridors, and was out the door before Tefano could protest. ******