From: LtCmKieran@aol.com Subject: Fan Fiction Submission: A Place to Call Home Part 1 Date: Mon, 10 May 1999 23:34:24 EDT Terri Osborne LtCmKieran@aol.com Adult warnings, none so far. I'd give it a TV-PG rating, the same thing B5 usually gets. (I don't write smut, so you have nothing to worry about from me. :-) ) Hi! Real quick, I'll introduce myself. Name's Terri, and I'm a fanfic writer, I carry a notepad. Seriously. I'm new to this list, so I hope I'm posting this right. I hear this is a good place to be, and I''m looking forward to reading everything here (though that might take all year). Thanks for indulging me, now on with the story! Feedback is *very* welcome! ---------- Part 1 of ? A Place to Call Home By Terri Osborne LtCmKieran@aol.com ---------- SPOILER WARNING: Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I can be a bad continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels, but you don't need to have read them to get this. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess). Turn back now if you so desire. Consider yourself warned. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information. No infringement on any existing or future copyrights involving the Christina Rosetti poem is intended. Content Warning: [AC] [AL] I'd rate it about a TV-PG, the usual for B5 Anything encased in *asterisks* is emphasized or stressed text (read it as boldface or italicized text). Anything encased in <*these*> is telepathic speech. And thanks to my eagle-eyes, better known as Sharon and Sarah! Virtual boxes of Godivas to both of you! Now that I've probably confused the daylights out of you, how about we fix that? ---------- Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay. Remember me when no more, day by day, You tell me of our future that you planned, Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve; For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad. -Christina Rosetti (1830-1894) ---------- December 12, 2263 All it took was a thought. With little more than a wish that it happen, the engines buried several decks beneath Lyta Alexander's feet roared to life. Their vibrations resonated through the ship's hull, right into its sole passenger's heart. After a year of travel, she was finally free. G'kar no longer needed the ship. His time for exploration was over. It would serve her well for her own quest. The search for a world that human telepaths could call their own. And she had just the planet in mind. ---------- February 14, 2264 Captain Susan Ivanova stared at the stark walls of the office that surrounded her, her thoughts a million miles away and two years into the past. There was absolutely nothing that she could do to change the fact that he was gone, not unless she could personally come up with some serious advances in regeneration technology. It had been her final order before leaving Babylon Five. It had yet to be countermanded. Maybe there was something to be said for Captain Lochley after all. Susan silently hoped that one day she would meet the woman, if only to see if everything she had heard about her successor in the last two years were true. Two years of the life he had given her had come and gone and how had she spent them? Looking for a way back. Two years of looking for something resembling a miracle in the remote civilizations out near the Rim, a search that had come up empty. She had thought she'd found something once, but even that had turned out to be a nothing more than an errant energy spike. The classic Susan Ivanova luck had reared its ugly head once again. Where the hell was Lorien when she needed him? "Captain, communication coming in from Earthdome. Gold Channel. Ultraviolet priority." Forcing herself out of the past, she turned her attentions to the vidscreen on her desk. If the call was that important, she could at least devote more than her customary level of attention. "Put it through here." The face that appeared on her monitor was quite a surprise. "Major Ryan?" "One and the same, Captain. Good to see you again." And you," she stated. "What can I do for you?" The Major's cherubic face held an expression that suggested that Susan was not going to like what came next. "Captain, I really hate to have to do this to you, especially with these circumstances." Susan's eyebrows furrowed. "Circumstances, Major?" "I am assuming that you have heard of the Remember Byron movement?" he asked, folding his hands on the table before him. "Yes, but I thought Psi Corps brought them under control six months ago?" "We were led to believe that. Unfortunately, it wasn't true. There were three bombings at Psi Corps recruitment centers yesterday. All of them were claimed by Remember Byron. From what we've been able to discover, Psi Corps consciously lied to the Senate." Susan tried to look surprised by that, but just could not manage it. "So, Remember Byron never really left?" "Precisely. If anything, they are becoming bolder in their actions. The President believes they should be brought under control as quickly as possible. That's why I'm contacting you personally." "With all due respect, Major, why me? I don't have any connections to them." At that, he smiled. "But you do, Captain. Byron was merely the movement's first leader. The violence began near the time of his death. That was when a new leader emerged, a leader that I understand you know personally." Susan racked her brain. She knew of no revolutionaries, telepathic or otherwise. "Who?" "Lyta Alexander." Susan's breath caught. "Lyta? *She's* leading this thing?" "Yes, Captain. That is why you are being assigned to put an end to the Remember Byron movement as quickly as possible. Use whatever means you feel are necessary. I know you'll get the job done. The general public can't find out what we're doing, so it's all in your discretion. So as few people know about your mission as possible, you will be reporting directly to me in this matter." Susan nodded. "Understood, and thank you. We'll put a stop to this whatever it takes." "I know you will, Captain. Earthdome out." The screen went black briefly, but only until the official confirmation of her new orders had been downloaded. She carefully read over the orders, deciding on the best course of action. If Lyta really was heading up this movement, then there was only one place to start. "Captain to the Bridge. Set course for Babylon Five, best possible speed." ---------- February 18, 2264 Lyta stepped into what the locals called the Grand Bazaar, taking great care to feel out the vicinity as she passed. Technically, she was not on the run, but if the wrong person recognized her any safety she may have had was gone. She hated heavily populated planets sometimes. Daltron Seven was not proving to be a planet that she would remember fondly. Putting up the thickest telepathic screens she could manage, she willed herself to be invisible to everyone in the area. Judging by how much passersby were jostling her, the tactic was working. It was beginning to remind her of her last trip to the Drazi homeworld. A part of her wished that Byron were there. Would it have made things easier? She had no idea. She did miss him, though. So much of her life had changed because of him. The Great Maker only knew what would have become of her if she had never met Byron. With the Vorlons gone, her life had lost its meaning. She had floundered helplessly, until Sheridan had had the brilliant idea to pick up where the Vorlons had left off. He had used her as if she were nothing more than a weapon, not a human being. "Lyta do this." "Lyta do that." No "Would you please," and certainly no "Thank you." They had even had the gall to try to make her move into smaller quarters after the Vorlons had departed, saying that if she wanted to stay in her home, she had to be the one to pay the rent. It would have been all right if she had not been a rogue telepath, unable to get a job simply because she had taken a stand. "Can't hire a rogue telepath," she had heard over and over again, "there's just too much risk involved." Still, she went on, until finally the circumstances forced her into a contract with that slimeball Bester just to get her name removed from the rogue list . . . and maybe get a job. Even that had proven worthless. Thinking she had no other options, she'd cooperated with Sheridan's plans. All of that had changed the day she met Byron. A former Psi Cop, among the strongest of their kind, Byron had escaped the Psi Corps only a few years before he'd stepped onto Babylon Five with nothing more than a small group of rogue telepaths. His people, he had called them. A small group that wanted nothing more than a safe harbor from the tyranny of the Psi Corps. A small group that only wanted somewhere they could call home. Sheridan had offered them sanctuary, thinking he should have a few human telepaths on his side for a war that had then been only a figment of his imagination. Ammunition for a war that would soon be knocking on the front door of the Interstellar Alliance itself. A dark smile crept onto Lyta's face. She would make sure Sheridan stopped seeing telepaths as just another weapon for his arsenal. It was just a shame that Byron would not be there to see the victory. Now he was gone, a martyr for the cause. She had Sheridan to thank for that, too. Her steps led her around the Bazaar, stopping at booth after booth along the way for supplies. Some fruits from one booth, a few vegetables from another, nothing overly perishable. Nothing that would not last until the next time she could stop for provisions. "Excuse me," she said, trying to pass by one rather burly Brakiri shopper. The shopper, however, did not seem to be one for common courtesy. He took one step back and, combined with his size, the force of the bump knocked Lyta into a small group of people. Without a second look her way, he walked off as if nothing had happened. "Hey!" Lyta shouted, making her apologies to the shoppers as she helped them recover their balance. The buffoon, however, did not slow in his escape. Her temper flared. She began to stalk through the jungle of shoppers toward the Brakiri, intent on giving him a lesson in manners. Her senses told her when innocent people were near, allowing her steps to go unimpeded as she drew closer to her target. Still, he kept walking. The more he kept walking, the more her irritation grew. This fool obviously had no idea of who he had offended. She was drawing closer when he stopped cold in his tracks. "I think you owe someone an apology." The voice that carried over the crowd was distinctly female. It was not one Lyta recognized, but it carried an unusual amount of authority. Her accent vaguely reminded Lyta of that Ranger, Marcus. The oversized Brakiri blocked her view, so she decided to do a little investigating of her defender the only way she could. Looking around, she made sure that the coast was clear before reaching out toward the woman telepathically. What she met were blocks that could only have been put up by an incredibly strong telepath. Certainly stronger than Byron had been. "Why don't you apologize to the lady, and then you can be on your way," the mysterious woman said. Lyta left her feelers out and discovered another interesting thing. The man was under the influence of quite a bit of telepathic persuasion. She knew the power existed, had even used it on a few rare occasions. What surprised her was how fast it was working. Lyta raised her estimation of her defender's abilities another notch. The Brakiri slowly turned around. When she got a good look at his eyes, they were glassy, unfocussed. He looked to be in some sort of telepathic trance. "I am . . . sorry," he said in a mechanical tone. Lyta nodded, stunned. Without another word, the Brakiri walked off into the crowd. Lyta turned to find her advocate heading off in the opposite direction. "Thank you!" she called. The woman turned, and it became abundantly clear why she had used her telepathic abilities instead of her fists. She stood a good three inches shorter than Lyta. Her hair was black, like shining glass, pulled into a tight ponytail. Her features were delicate, but strong, with eyes that were a startling dark green. "You're welcome. Now, if I were you, I'd be on my way, Miss Alexander." Lyta glanced uneasily over her shoulder. "You know who I am?" "Every self-respecting telepath in this sector knows who you are," the woman said. "Now, if you'll excuse me." "What's your name?" Lyta asked, stepping toward the woman. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Lyta expected a probe at her defenses, but one never came. "Why do you want to know?" Lowering her voice, she chose her words carefully. "You're a strong telepath. One of the strongest I've ever seen, in or out of the Corps. My guess is you've gone rogue. How long has it been since you went home?" The woman's eyes closed. Lyta sensed that the subject was painful. "My home was destroyed six years ago," she said. Lyta cursed herself. "I'm sorry. I really am." "There's nothing to be sorry for. The Shadows blew it apart, and I helped teach them a lesson." Something about her story struck a chord in Lyta. She felt as if she had heard it before. "What about Earth? Do you have any family on Earth?" The woman shook her head. "Help me." The words were out of Lyta's mouth before she realized that she had said them. Gently touching the woman's arm, Lyta led her to a more private area of the Bazaar. "Help me find a home for our people. I need someone with your talents. Help me and maybe I can help find a new home for you, too." "I am not a charity case," she snarled. "I didn't say you were. Look, if you know who I am, then you know what I'm fighting for. I'll admit, I've made more than a couple of mistakes since this whole thing started, but that's over. I'm headed for Mars. An associate of mine there was putting together a force that I could use against the Corps. I'm going to need help leading it." "What makes you think you can trust me?" "You know who I am. Judging by that little display, if you wanted to kill me, you could have had anyone around here do it. I've seen the slimiest of Psi Cops that couldn't do what you just did. Deep scans, yes. Telepathic trances, yes. But full-out mind control? If the Shadows had that ability, we'd have lost the War. I can do it, but not that well. I'm curious to know how *you* can do it so easily." The woman's green eyes narrowed. Lyta could feel a probe at her telepathic defenses. After a few seconds of debating whether to let her through, Lyta instead chose to see if she was strong enough to get there on her own. The woman was about to breach Lyta's defenses when she suddenly pulled back. "Can you get me to Babylon Five?" she asked. Lyta shook her head, still somewhat stunned, then gave the idea a second thought. "The deal for my freedom was that I had to leave the station and never come back. I suppose, technically, they couldn't do anything to me if I stayed on the ship. Mind if I ask why?" "I'm looking for an old friend. Last I heard, he was on Babylon Five." Lyta took a mental step back. She valued her freedom so much. Was getting this woman's help worth jeopardizing everything? She was without a doubt the strongest telepath Lyta had ever seen. She needed this woman on her side, no matter the cost. She would just have to convince Lochley and Zack of her innocence if it came up. Then again, there were always ways to keep the subject from coming up. She had thought G'kar crazy for installing it, but maybe that sensor-shielded cargo hold would finally come in handy. "All right," she said. "We'll stop on our way to Mars, agreed?" The woman smiled. "Agreed." Lyta looked down at her small bundle of food. "I've only been getting enough food for one. So, if you want anything, we'd better get it now." "I've got plenty of supplies in my quarters," the woman said, stepping toward the door. "Should be enough to last a few weeks." Lyta followed her, remembering one thing. "You know, you never told me your name." "Alina," she said. "Alina Minette." ---------- February 21, 2264 Susan stepped into Captain Elizabeth Lochley's office with all of the military precision she could muster, convinced that she had to make the proper impression. She was a ship's captain now and she fully intended to be treated like one. Besides, she knew how well the station's rumor mill worked. Her departure must have given it grist for the last two years. Thanks to a few well-placed contacts, Susan had heard a few of those rumors, even the one that said she had left the station because of Marcus. Although that one was true, she still didn't have to like it. Captain Lochley had apparently been waiting. Susan stopped at the doorway, surprised at the physical resemblance between herself and the new captain. Where Susan normally wore her dark brown hair in a tight ponytail, Lochley appeared to prefer wearing hers loose. The blue eyes Susan had been seeing in the mirror lately looked dull compared to Lochley's. It was getting eerie, same uniform, same stance. Hell, the woman even held her hands behind her back the same way. Susan almost wanted to call Corwin in, just to see if he could tell the difference. *He* was still here, wasn't he? "Captain Ivanova," Lochley said, extending a hand. "Welcome back." Susan shook the woman's hand. "Thank you, Captain. I'm sorry to say it's not a social call, though." Lochley gave a curt nod. "I understand. The station's at your disposal. What can we do for you?" Susan took a step toward the window, looking out over the view of the slowly rotating central core. She just could not believe what she was about to ask. "I'm on Earthforce business. I need to speak with Lyta Alexander personally." Lochley shook her head. "I'm sorry, but that's not possible." "But, you just-" "I know," Lochley said, holding up a hand. "If she were here, I'd be more than happy to oblige you. The problem is she's gone. She left with G'kar over a year ago." Susan's eyes shot open. "She left with G'kar?" Lochley nodded. "Any idea where they went?" Lochley stepped over to her desk, punching a few buttons on her monitor. "Best we can give you is the flight plan they filed when they left. Looks like they were headed out near Emphili space." Susan's eyebrows furrowed at the reference. "That's one hell of a long trip, even in hyperspace." "That was G'kar's idea. I think he wanted to get as far away from here as possible." "Why?" Lochley chuckled. "His fans. I take it you haven't read the Book of G'kar yet?" Susan shook her head. "We've been out on the Rim for the last two years, Captain. It's hard to get the bestsellers." Lochley settled into her chair, her eyes narrowing. "So, Earthdome's put you after Lyta?" "Yes." "Between you and me, I wouldn't want your job for anything." "Why?" Susan asked, sinking into the cushions of the large sofa. Lochley stirred uneasily in her chair. "Frankly, telepaths have always spooked me a little. But Lyta, that one terrifies me." "The Lyta I knew wouldn't hurt a fly." "She's not the Lyta you knew, Captain. Hell, she's not the Lyta I met when I got here." "What happened to her?" "Byron," Lochley flatly replied. Susan shook her head. She had read bits and pieces about Byron from the reports sent by Earthdome. He had been the leader of a small band of rogue telepaths that had requested asylum on the station. Lochley's own report had described him as charismatic, charming; the classic example of a traditional cult leader. From what Susan could tell, everything had gone along just fine until Byron, with Lyta by his side, had confronted the Alliance demanding a homeworld for telepaths. He had basically said that the Alliance owed a debt to telepaths for the Shadow War, that telepaths were victims of the Vorlons and deserved reparations. If reparations could not come from the Vorlons, then they would come from their inheritors. Susan had chalked that up as his first mistake. From reading the reports, it appeared to have been the first of many. After everything that had happened here, it did not surprise her one bit that Lochley was afraid of telepaths. What surprised her the most was Lyta. The telepath had done so much good during the Shadow War. They could not have retaken Earth without her help. How could someone like Lyta have fallen in with such a crowd? How could such a powerful telepath be lured in by someone like Byron? Lyta should have been able to see through the ruse immediately. Susan briefly wondered what she would have done in Lochley's place. "I don't know what happened here, Captain, but I need to understand it. I'd appreciate anything you could give me. Zack, too. It may help me figure out where she went." Lochley's link chirped. "Lochley, go." "Captain, you're needed in C and C." Susan did not recognize the voice, but smiled all the same. "Never gives you a second's peace, does it?" Lochley rolled her eyes. "I'll be right there. Lochley out." "Look, you go put out the fire. We can get back to this later. Besides, there's something I need to take care of before I go." Lochley pulled herself out of the chair. "Go ahead. I'll have Security pull a full report. You'll get a copy of everything we've got. If you need anything else, just let me know." Susan nodded. "Thank you, Captain." Lochley stopped in the doorway. "And, for the record, Captain, it was nice finally meeting you." ---------- February 21, 2264 When she was sure Doctor Hobbs was looking the other way, Susan crossed the threshold of the cryo room. At the height of the Shadow War, every tube in the place had been filled with high-level telepaths. Now, however, they were all empty. Except one. Susan flattened a palm against the black metal of the cryo unit. "I'm here," she whispered. "I know you can't hear me. I wish you could. God knows I could use you around right now." She turned a guilty look toward the door, not quite sure she could handle someone accidentally walking in. The coast was clear. "I don't know what to do, Marcus. They want me to find Lyta, bring her in. I'm not sure I can do it. I don't know how to turn in a friend. What did she do to deserve this?" She leaned her forehead against the cold metal. The temperature was actually somewhat comforting. "She's taking on the Corps. God, Marcus, what do I do if I agree with her?" Closing her eyes, she allowed her mind to wander over the situation. *What if* she agreed with Lyta? *What if* Lyta had a viable plan to take down the Psi Corps? Susan had already thrown her future out the door once to follow Sheridan on his crusade. It had taken something resembling a miracle for her to get her career back after that. Lyta's quest hit a little closer to home, though. Had Lyta finally found a way for Susan to pay back the Corps for her mother's suicide? Was vengeance enough to justify potentially walking away from the Valkyrie, and even Earthforce, forever? Worse yet, if it came down to it, could she bring herself to kill a friend? The chill against her forehead seemed to mutate into a cool calm, radiating into her neck, shoulders, and finally her arms. All she wanted to do was cry, but she'd shed enough tears on this station for one lifetime. No more. In the calm that encircled her, she came to a realization. "Whatever it takes, Marcus. Ryan told me to do whatever I thought had to be done. There's no way I'm going to know until I find Lyta. I don't think I could kill her, but I *do* know that I can't let the Corps win, either." She slowly closed her eyes, feeling her composure slip back into place. Major Ryan had put her in the middle of a serious situation. They had to know about Sophie Ivanova. Major Ryan at the very least had to suspect the corner that he was boxing Susan into. Susan took a deep breath. No, she could not let the Corps win. Just the idea of working in their favor turned her stomach. The real problem was that she could not let Lyta win this, either. There had to be a middle ground, and she had to be the one to find it. [End part 1 of ?] From: LtCmKieran@aol.com Subject: Fan Fiction Submission: A Place to Call Home 2 of ? Date: Wed, 12 May 1999 23:25:08 EDT Terri Osborne LtCmKieran@aol.com Content Warning: [AC] [AL] I'd rate it about a TV-PG, the usual for B5 (I don't write smut, so you have nothing to worry about from me. :-) ) Hi again! Here's part 2 for your perusal. Let me know if you enjoy it! Feedback is not only encouraged, it's *very* welcome! -------------------------------------------------- Part 2 of ? A Place to Call Home By Terri Osborne LtCmKieran@aol.com -------------------------------------------------- SPOILER WARNING: Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I can be a bad continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels, but you don't need to have read them to get this. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess). Turn back now if you so desire. Consider yourself warned. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information. Anything encased in *asterisks* is emphasized or stressed text (read it as boldface or emphasized text). Anything in <*these*> is telepathic speech. My usual box of virtual Godivas to Sharon and Sarah, my eagle eyes! Onward! ----- February 21, 2264 Lyta Alexander brushed her bright red hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. It was getting too long. Maybe when they reached Mars she could find someone sympathetic to the cause that could trim it. She let out a long sigh. "The simple things." "What?" "Oh, I just realized something, that's all." Alina Minette turned away from the ship's flight console. "What's that?" Lyta slipped the brush into a compartment in the countertop as she floated toward the flight deck. "How much I missed little things like a haircut once in a while." The console beeped, drawing Alina's attention. "Well, that will have to wait until we get to Mars. Strap in, we're coming out of hyperspace." Lyta slid into the passenger's seat, getting the buckles fastened just as Alina activated the jumpgate. Even after a year of travelling with G'kar, she still hated jumpgates. The disorientation of leaving hyperspace always left her nauseous for at least a few minutes, and this time was no exception. When she finally recovered, her eyes were greeted with a sight she had thought she would never see again. The bronze sphere that was Epsilon Three acted as a backdrop for the slowly rotating space station. The tear that slowly ran down her cheek surprised her. "Are you okay, Lyta?" "Yes," she whispered. "I just never thought I'd be back here, that's all." Alina visually inspected the ships docked outside the spinning blue station, pointing at the largest, meanest looking ship in the group. "Well, it's going to have to be a quick visit. That looks like one of those new Earthforce destroyers I've heard about." Lyta wiped the tear away, following Alina's line of sight. "Great. They can't know we're here, can they?" Alina shook her head. "Not a chance." "What if they recognize the ship?" "Not possible," Alina said with a wicked smile. "You remember when we left I was working on the ship's computer?" "Yes," Lyta groaned, remembering the six-hour delay Alina's little impromptu work had caused. "Well, I gave us a little stealth technology while I was at it. Changed the ship's registry and planet of origin. This little ship is now registered to one Liana Stewart of Arisia Three." Something about the name of the planet sounded familiar to Lyta, but when she was unable to place it, she dismissed the thought. "Who's Liana Stewart?" "Nobody important. Precisely why I used her." Lyta leaned back as best she could. "What if they trace the name?" "They'll find records of her whereabouts being unknown. A stopover here and there being the only thing that's keeping them from officially declaring her dead." "So, she's been floating around the galaxy since, say, the Shadow War?" Lyta asked. Alina shot a smile at Lyta, "Or, possibly, before that?" "Babylon Control to approaching passenger vessel. You are not on today's docking schedule. Please state the nature of your business." Lyta pursed her lips. "Sounds like security's gotten a little tighter." Alina, however, appeared to be taking the whole thing in stride. She flipped the switch that controlled the comm system. Lyta recognized the face of Lieutenant Corwin on the monitor and prayed that he did not see her. "Babylon Control, this is the Phoenix," Alina said, putting on her most winning smile. The tone she injected into her voice reminded Lyta of an old salesman she had met once upon a time. "My apologies for not letting you know I was coming. I'm a bit of an explorer, you see. Didn't think I was even going to stop until a few hours ago. The nature of my business is rest for me and refueling for my ship. You wouldn't happen to know if there are any quarters available for a few hours, would you?" From the angle she was at, Lyta could barely see Corwin smiling. "No, ma'am. I'm afraid you'll have to check on that when you dock. If you'll hold position, I'll put you next in line for Bay Thirteen." "Thirteen?" Alina asked. "Wouldn't you know? That's my lucky number. Thank you, Babylon Control." Lyta had to put her palm to her mouth to stifle the giggle. She'd only met Corwin a couple of times, but she was certain that he was blushing. "You're welcome, Phoenix. Babylon Control out." Alina's fingers had barely left the comm unit's switch when Lyta released her giggle. "I didn't realize you were such an awful flirt!" "Who's flirting?" she asked, turning serious. "Besides, it got us in there, didn't it?" Lyta rolled her eyes. "Poor Corwin." Alina slipped the ship into its assigned and all-too-familiar docking bay. Unbuckling her safety harness, she stood and straightened her rather rumpled clothing. Lyta envied the woman her small frame. Black pants and a white shirt appeared to be an unofficial uniform, and then there was that vest, that oversized vest with an endless supply of pockets. She had wondered about that vest all the way from Daltron Seven. She wondered about it even more when Alina handed it to her. "Take good care of this for me," she somberly said. "Guard it with your life." Lyta nodded, gathering her things. "I'll jump down in the hold." "I'll let you know when I get back," Alina said, carefully shutting down the ship's systems. "I put in for an expedited departure, so when we're ready to go we should be able to get out of here fast." "If that destroyer's here looking for us, we just might need it." ---------- "Identicard, please." Alina casually handed the customs officer her identicard. After all, she had no reason to worry. Her identicard was just as valid as anyone else's. It only took a second for the reader to process the card. "How long will you be staying, Miss Stewart?" "A few hours," Alina replied. "Just long enough to refuel and get something to eat." The customs officer nodded, placing her identicard in the palm of her hand. "Well, enjoy yourself." Alina smiled. "Thank you, I just might do that." As she stepped away, she noticed another man keeping a close watch over her actions. The momentary sight was just enough for her to catch him telepathically. He was a normal, so he probably wouldn't notice her eavesdropping on his thoughts. He was suspicious. Of her. She slowed her steps, allowing her to home in on the man as he walked over to the customs officer. He got her name from the officer, then turned and headed her way. "Miss Stewart!" he called as he jogged up. "Can I talk to you for a second?" Alina turned as nonchalantly as she could manage. The man was about six feet tall, with short, dark blonde hair and sincere blue eyes. His black uniform told her that he worked for the Interstellar Alliance. "Yes?" she asked. "Zack Allan, ma'am. I'm Head of Station Security. If you have a few minutes, I'd like to talk with you." Alina feigned surprise. "Of course. I haven't done anything wrong, have I?" "No, ma'am. Just a couple of questions, that's all." "Certainly. What do you need to know?" Zack shifted on his feet. "I'm just curious. It's probably none of my business, but where did you get that ship?" Alina shrugged. "Some dealer out near the Emphili homeworld. I bought it about a year ago." His expression lit like a candle. "About a year ago? You don't happen to know who sold it to the dealer, do you?" "No, why?" The candle faded. "Just looking for someone, that's all. Last time I saw her, she was leaving here on a ship just like yours." Alina put a hand on Zack's arm, and projected comfort in that touch. She knew the second her fingers made contact that he had been hoping the ship had been Lyta's. "We're all looking for someone, Mister Allan. I'm sorry I can't help you find yours." "Ah, it's just wishful thinking anyway. She's not crazy enough to come back here after what we did to her." "We? Do I sense a guilty conscience?" "Yes, you do." Crossing her arms over her chest, Alina decided that maybe Zack Allan could be of help after all. "Well, I've got some time if you want to talk, but I'm looking for someone myself. Is there any way you might help me find him?" That brought a smile to his face. "Sure. Come on, we'll go find your friend." "Wonderful," she commented, slipping her arm through his as they stepped off. "Who are you looking for?" he asked. "Well, last I heard, he was with the Rangers." Zack whistled. "We've got a lot of Rangers stationed here. What's his name?" "Marcus," she said. "Marcus Cole." Zack stopped cold in his tracks. "You've got to be kidding me." She picked up one word from his mind. Dead. It took everything she could manage to keep the shock from her expression. "No. Why?" Zack shook his head slowly, running one hand through his hair. "Marcus Cole. About this tall," he held his hand out, "black hair, beard?" "Gorgeous blue eyes, accent like mine. Always in some sort of trouble. Yes, that sounds like him. Is he still here?" "Sort of." She wanted to ask how he could have still been there if he were dead, but instead asked, "Sort of? How can someone be 'sort of' here?" "Come on, I'll show you." Zack Allan led her down corridor after corridor, through three different lifts, until they reached what appeared to be a medical facility. He left her at the door and spoke quietly to a small woman wearing medical scrubs. After a few seconds, she nodded, and he returned to Alina. "Come on. She'll let us in." "Let us in where? Mister Allan, what's happened to him?" He remained silent until they entered what appeared to be a cryo room. "It was right after we took back Earth. If anybody knows what happened to him, they're not talking." She walked over to the one functioning tube and read the display. "Marcus," she whispered. "If he's dead, what's he doing in here?" "Captain Ivanova's last order before her promotion. All I know is that he saved her life after their White Star took heavy damage. She was brought back here in critical condition. After the hit on Mars, he came back here. The next thing anyone knows, she's alive and well. He was by the bed." Alina placed her palm flat against the cool black panel, staring at the word 'deceased' in the display. "Nobody saw what happened?" "We've got a half-dozen reports that he came into Medlab and tore the place apart looking for something. He knocked out everyone that got in his way. Nobody was conscious when whatever happened happened." "Your security cameras didn't pick up anything?" "He disabled them." She smiled, but it was a sad smile. "That sounds like the Marcus I knew. Very determined. Not even his father could stop him sometimes." "How long has it been since you saw him?" Zack asked. "A long time," she whispered. "Too long." She allowed the silence to linger, placing both palms flat against the cool black of the cryo tube. Reaching back into every ounce of her training, she allowed her mind to flow along the metal, through the coolant pipes, into the bed inside. And touched something that frightened her to the core. During her rather unorthodox training all those years ago, they had taught her to perform deathbed telepathic scans. She had only done three, but it had been enough to reveal to her the true depths of her talents. She somehow had the ability to reach a person's consciousness when they could not even do it themselves. Her most frightening memory was the idea that one unfortunate soul had thought her to be the Minbari equivalent of the angel of death. The sensations she received from Marcus were so similar that chills ran down her spine. It was the slightest contact, but it was enough to convince her that he was not completely gone. He had still been clinging to life when they had stuck him in this thing and declared him dead. "In Valen's name," she whispered, breaking the connection. Gathering her composure, she turned to face Zack. "Who put him in here?" "Doctor Franklin," he said. "Why?" "Where is he? I'd like to talk to him." Zack shook his head. "He's not here. He went back to Earth last year." "I have to find him. I need to know what happened." "He's head of xenobiology at Earthdome. I don't know if it's a secure line or not, but you're welcome to try Stellarcom before you go." "Thank you," Alina said, "I may do that. I can't thank you enough for this, Mister Allan. You've been more help than you realize." Zack blushed. "All I did was bring you here." Alina gave the cryo tube a significant stare. "It was more than enough, trust me." "You said it was a long time since you saw him," Zack said. "This is a pretty strong reaction, Miss Stewart. What *was* he to you?" She pulled herself away from the tube, gathering her composure about her. "A very old, very dear friend. We were separated by the Minbari War." "You weren't kidding when you said it was a long time, were you?" She slowly shook her head. "I don't kid, Mister Allan." "Well, you were looking for dinner," he said, obviously forcing himself to smile. "There's a great pizza place in the Zocalo, as long as you don't mind a few unusual toppings." "What do you mean by unusual?" "Come on, you'll find out when we get there." She stopped him before he could reach the door. "Mister Allan?" "Yes?" "I might be able to help you after all," she said. "All I know is that your friend is alive and well." Zack's eyes narrowed. "You know Lyta?" She nodded. "I met her. Not long ago." "She's okay? Was G'kar with her?" "Yes and no. She's begun travelling on her own. Our paths crossed in the Grand Bazaar on Daltron Seven. I don't know what happened to this G'kar you're talking about. I've never met him." "How long ago was she on Daltron Seven?" Alina shrugged. "Two or three weeks ago. Honestly, hyperspace screws up my sense of time." "Thank you," Zack said with a sigh. "I was worried about her." "I know." "You're a telepath," he stated. "Yes." "And you didn't join up with her?" "She asked. I haven't really decided yet. Sure you still want to get that pizza?" His stomach growled. "That answer your question?" She gestured toward the cryo room door. "Lead on." Zack headed for the door, turning as he crossed the threshold. "Hey, she didn't happen to say anything about me, did she?" [End Part 2] From: LtCmKieran@aol.com Subject: Fan Fiction Submission: A Place to Call Home (3/?) Date: Sun, 23 May 1999 16:18:47 EDT Terri Osborne LtCmKieran@aol.com Content Warning: [AC] [AL] I'd rate it about a TV-PG, the usual for B5 (I don't write smut, so you have nothing to worry about from me. :-) ) Hello again! Sorry this has taken so long, but RL has been intervening. More parts should be along in the next few days. Hope you enjoy! -------------------------------------------------- Part 3 of ? A Place to Call Home By Terri Osborne LtCmKieran@aol.com -------------------------------------------------- Disclaimers: Save for a few characters of my own creation, it all belongs to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT, and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. If they want it, I can probably be bought off (cheap) for a story credit. ;-) Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information. My thanks to Sarah and Sharon! Potential spoilers through Season 5 and possibly A Call to Arms. > > > > > > > > > February 28, 2264 Susan dragged herself out of bed with all of the enthusiasm of someone headed for their doom. After all of these years, she still hated mornings. Of course, getting up in the morning had gotten exponentially more difficult since she had begun having the dreams. Delenn had suggested that they were her mind's way of dealing with the grief. She believed that the dreams had given Susan the chance to say goodbye. What Delenn did not know was that Susan had no intention of doing anything of the kind. The dreams had become her way of keeping him alive. "Bridge to the Captain. Approaching jumpgate." Susan groaned as she shrugged into a clean uniform. She reached onto the top of her dresser for her link, but brushed against something else instead. A Ranger's pin. A weary smile crossed her face as she wondered if they had noticed it was missing yet. She grabbed her link, placing it on the back of her hand. Her sleep-clouded mind debated whether to answer the call, and thereby acknowledge her existence. Arriving at the realization that if she did not answer soon, they would probably send out a search party, she tapped the link. "I'll be right there. Ivanova out." She was standing on the bridge as the Valkyrie left the jumpgate. "Any sign of Emphili ships?" "No, Captain." Susan nodded. "Okay, keep an eye out. Their captains can get a little nervous. They may not like us hanging around here. You've got the coordinates of the settlement?" Her executive officer curtly nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Shuttle's ready for you in Bay One." ---------- The ship settled onto the planet's surface in a haze of steam. It was no wonder Lyta had gone off on her own. Every sensor on the shuttle's environmental panel said that the climate was well beyond the long-term tolerance range for a human being. Too hot, too sunny, too humid. "Sounds like the perfect environment for a Narn," Susan told the panel as she reached for her PPG. The Great Maker only knew what kind of animal was just outside the door, waiting on her to leave the ship and become the lunch special. She punched up the Valkyrie's map of the settlement, setting the shuttle's scanners on the area around her to see precisely where she had landed. A small white dot appeared on the map just outside the settlement's perimeter, near the small, secluded hut that she was certain belonged to G'kar. A three-point landing, as usual. "Perfect," she said, pulling herself out of the pilot's chair. The gravity was very close to that of Earth, which didn't help as she picked up the heavy supply pack and hefted it onto her back. She was bolstered by the thought that at least she wouldn't be bringing all of the pack's contents back to the shuttle. If she was going to grill G'kar for information, she might as well bring him some of the luxuries of home as payment. "Now, I wonder," she muttered, tapping the buttons of her link. As she set up the shuttle's scanners to track her link, she also set up a large portion of the ship's computer as a storage area. She fully intended to fill it with one large data file after this little meeting. Maybe she could even get G'kar to record it for her. When everything was set up, she triggered the hatch and stepped outside. "What is this?" she groaned. "The humid level of Hell?" It took almost no time for the sweat to begin trickling down her back. A part of her wished she had brought some of her gym clothes on this trip. At least it would have been more comfortable than the white cotton of her uniform shirt. "Oh, is it time for a diagnostic on the scanners!" she said, surveying the area. The terrain that surrounded her was somewhat more uneven than the scanners and maps had made it out. She noticed a distinct lack of underbrush, but the ferns that seemed to surround her made up for that. It almost felt as if she were standing in a jungle on Earth, only warmer. Much warmer. The thought of a jungle made her stop and check her boots and pantlegs for small insects before trudging onward. The last thing her crew needed was for her to bring back some carnivorous alien ant. It seemed to take an eternity for her to cross the few meters from the shuttle to her destination. "God, I won't have to go to the gym for a month," she said, struggling to get up the steep slope that greeted her just outside the settlement's walls. She couldn't remember being so exhausted. Maybe there was a communication unit nearby. Judging by the brick and mortar wall that stopped about four feet above her head, the settlement didn't seem likely to have that much in the way of technology. How was she supposed to get into the place, yell? "No," she said to herself, "with my luck, they'd probably just shoot me." From behind her came the creaking of a heavy wooden door opening. "Hello?" Susan almost collapsed at the sound of G'kar's voice. She attempted to turn around, but the load strapped to her back threw her off-balance. A solid hand to her back stopped her from falling back down the slope. "Captain Ivanova? My goodness. Let me take that from you. This hill is not for someone with such a heavy load." She attempted to remove the pack, but just removing the strap from one shoulder knocked her off-balance once again. "It's not that. . . . whoa!" It took a quick hand to the arm to save her from a tumble down the hill. G'kar relieved her of the pack when she had regained her balance. He carried it as if it were weightless. "Come in, Captain. You need to rest. You must be dehydrated from the climb. Humans cannot tolerate this environment for very long." Susan wiped the sweat from her brow. He was right. Water had not sounded so good in months. She nodded, and followed him through the large entry gate. The settlement reminded her of something out of an ancient history book. The buildings looked molded out of clay, with dried branches on top for roofing material. Everything around her was a shade of either brown or green. "Desert indians," she whispered. "What?" She took a deep breath, difficult in the damp air. "Desert indians. Humans used to build houses like this a long time ago. But they lived in the deserts, not jungles." "Ah, yes," G'kar nodded. "I believe I know what you are referring to. Lyta told me stories of her ancestors living in such structures only two centuries ago." "Lyta," Susan said. "She isn't here?" The Narn scoffed. "No. Even with the biological enhancements the Vorlons gave her, she was still mostly human. She could not live here for very long. We ventured to other places, but I eventually returned here. Ah, here we are." G'kar followed her inside a humble building that appeared to be the settlement's main structure. The shade provided some comfort as she gently lowered herself into a chair made out of stone. When she finally caught her breath, she asked, "How long ago did she leave?" "Let me think. We found this sanctuary shortly after our travels had begun. After about a year on your Earth calendar we returned to this place." He gestured toward the building that surrounded them. "Lyta suffered as you suffer, Captain. When I chose to make my home here, I gave her our ship to continue her journey." He handed her a bottle that felt as if it had been anywhere but in that heat. "Your water," he said. She pulled the top from the bottle and took a long drink. It was water, all right, the purest, coldest, freshest water she had ever tasted. "Thank you, G'kar," she said, finally pulling the bottle from her lips. "I came here looking for her." The Narn scoffed. "And here I thought an Earthforce shuttle came looking for me. Why would you be looking for Lyta? She hasn't done anything wrong, has she?" "Not yet," Susan said, recovering somewhat. "It's what she *might* do that's got Earthdome worried." "Might do," G'kar snorted. "Captain, when Lyta joined me on this journey she was an angry person. Angry at Sheridan, your Psi Corps, even the Interstellar Alliance itself. Lyta was furious with the universe and everything that it had done to her. I knew her anger, Captain. I even understood it. But in the year she traveled with me, I saw her change. I saw her discover in herself a capacity for peace that I did not honestly think was possible." Susan attempted another deep breath of the humid air as she absorbed the information. "I can understand her anger at the Corps, but why John?" The Narn's red eyes shot open. "Why Sheridan? You mean you do not see what was done to her?" "I know the Vorlons made her a stronger telepath so she could carry Kosh," Susan said. "What else is there to know?" "Oh, they did much more than that, Captain. Much more. Have you forgotten that Sheridan carried a part of Kosh with him to Z'ha'dum and back?" It took a second for the true weight of G'kar's words to sink into Susan's mind. "And as far as we know the Vorlons never had him. So, Lyta didn't *need* what they did to her just to carry Kosh around. They did it for another reason, but what?" "What, indeed. After you left Babylon Five her life began to change." "I know all about Byron." "Do you now?" G'kar folded his hands in his lap. "So you know the memories that her time with Byron's colony evoked?" "Memories?" "Captain," the Narn said, leaning closer. "What were our best weapons in our fight against the Shadows? Even better than the White Star fleet?" "Telepaths," Susan said. That was when it finally clicked into place. "Byron said the Vorlons created telepaths on every world they could. They were engineered as weapons to fight the Shadows. To take a telepath and make them stronger would be like putting a nuclear warhead on a missile. Instead of just a weapon, you'd have a weapon of mass destruction." "Is it any wonder that Z'ha'dum exploded shortly after Lyta entered the area?" Susan's eyes bulged. "That's right. When we were looking for John, she must have set off the planet's defenses. Once the Shadows left, the defenses must have gone down and she was able to blow it." "She told me about that trip. It was her belief that those defenses had been constructed to ward off any telepathic intrusion." "They must have known that the Vorlons would create someone like her." G'kar raised a finger. "Yes, but a thought has concerned me since Lyta went off on her own. What if they created more than one of her?" The heat was beginning to get to her. She took another drag from the water bottle. "More than one Lyta?" "More than one super-telepath. I have seen Lyta's true power, Captain, and it is terrifying. The idea that there may be more than one of her kind in the galaxy...." Susan shook her head. "Somehow I don't think that happened, G'kar. Whoever it was would have had to get to the Vorlon homeworld and back just like she did. We'd have heard about that." "Would we?" Susan gave it a moment's thought. "You're right. Damn. I just wish I could understand what she's so mad at John about." G'kar placed a hand over hers. "You do understand. More than you realize. You see, you and Lyta have one vital thing in common." "And that is?" "Each of you has had someone you care a great deal for sacrifice themselves for a higher purpose, and you have both placed the blame for what happened onto the wrong person." Susan's brow furrowed. "What Byron did isn't even in the same league as Marcus. Byron was a martyr, pure and simple." "Yes," G'kar nodded. "I suppose that much is true." "You read the reports?" "I had a first-person account." "Really?" Susan asked, surprised. "From what I read, it doesn't sound like something Lyta would want to talk about." G'kar pulled himself out of the chair. "No, it does not sound like something *you* would want to talk about." "What's *that* supposed to mean?" The Narn stared at her intently. "What it *means*, Captain, is that at this moment you are no better off than Lyta was when she joined me on this journey." Susan crossed her arms over her chest. "Sorry, G'kar, but I'm not carrying around any repressed anger." The Narn's red eyes shot open. "Oh, Lyta wasn't repressing her anger. She was simply directing it at the people she blamed for Byron's death. I had hoped it was not true, but it would appear that you are doing the same thing." Susan glared at him. "Doing what?" "You blame yourself for Marcus, correct?" Her breath caught at the simple statement. "If I'd have been able to stop him, I would have. You have no idea. He still had so much to live for, G'kar. I mean, where did he get off thinking that *my* life meant more than his?" "There are many different varieties of love, Captain, but it all serves the same higher purpose. Marcus and Byron both gave their lives so that the people they loved most could go on." Whether it was a tear that ran down her cheek, or just a bead of sweat, Susan could not tell. "Stephen told you?" "I am afraid not. If there is one thing I have learned since I began writing, Captain, it is that the events are what truly tell the story. I have had very few friends who were not Narn, but I was proud to consider Marcus in that group. Naturally, I was curious about his death. Most of it is supposition, of course." Susan took a deep breath. She couldn't believe how fresh the wound still was after two years. Two years of searching for a way back. Two years of living with the 'if only's. If only she'd come out of it a few minutes earlier. If only she'd accepted what had been so obvious to everyone else. If only she'd admitted the truth. If only she'd done *something*. Maybe G'kar was right. Maybe she did understand Lyta better than she thought. Maybe that understanding could help track the telepath down. "Did Lyta say where she was going?" she asked. G'kar scowled. "No. She did not." Susan's link chose that moment to chirp. "Ivanova, go." "Captain, we've got a message coming in from Babylon Five. I can pipe the audio down to you." "Yes. Let me hear it." There was a crackle of static before Susan heard Zack Allan's voice from the small speaker. "Captain?" "What have you got, Zack?" "We had a visitor who says she was approached by Lyta." Susan raised an eyebrow. "She told you that?" "Yes, ma'am." "Did she say where she ran into her?" "Daltron Seven." "How long ago?" Zack hesitated. "Two or three weeks. She wasn't sure." "Then that's where we go next. Anything else?" "Something you might be interested in." "What?" "She was looking for Marcus. Claimed they were old friends." Susan's heart stopped for a split second. "What was her name?" "Liana Stewart." "Zack, can you do me another favor?" "Sure, Captain. What?" "Pull everything you can on her and send the file to my personal address on the Valkyrie." "Already on its way." Susan smiled. "You're the best, Zack." "Hey, I had great teachers. Babylon Five out." Placing the cap back onto the water bottle, Susan handed it back to G'kar. "I'm sorry, but-" "You've got to go. I understand, Captain." She reached for the pack. "I did bring you a few things, though." The Narn gave a flattered chuckle. "For me? Captain, you didn't have to." "Now you tell me," Susan groaned. "Consider it payment for the information on Lyta." He placed the pack down as if it had no weight. "There is something else you need to know, Captain. It may affect how she responds once you find her." "What?" G'kar pursed his lips. "A part of Lyta's anger was directed at our War Council." This took her by surprise. "The War Council? What did *we* do?" "It is precisely what we did *not* do that angered her, Captain. And it is high time we all began to acknowledge our part in what has occurred since." Susan shook her head. "Did *not* do? I'm sorry, G'kar, but I don't follow you." He reached out and took her hand. "She loved Kosh, Captain. Worshipped him as an idol. After the Vorlons became involved in the War, Kosh changed. He abused Lyta in ways you could never understand. When Kosh was eliminated, she was like a ship without direction. The War Council tried to give her that direction. We used her against the Shadows, just as we used every telepath who would join us. Without her, I dare say we may not have won the wars." "You're right," Susan said. "Without her we wouldn't have been able to figure out how effective telepaths were as weapons." "Precisely as the Vorlons must have intended her to be used. And I am sorry to say that we, too, treated her as such." "What?" "When the Vorlons left the galaxy, what became of Lyta? She no longer had a purpose. Her life as she knew it was gone. And to make matters worse, Sheridan tried to take away her home." Susan held up a hand. "Now, wait. We needed money to run the station. It was a matter of economics." "Was it? She was a rogue telepath. No one would hire her. Do you know what she had to do just to get a job?" She shook her head. "That which sickened her, Captain. She signed a contract with Bester that took her off of the rogue list." Susan's stomach turned. "Talk about making a deal with the devil." "Precisely. And we gave her no other choice. Think on this as you search for her, Captain. She was forced to rejoin the Corps because we had no sense of gratitude. She was a civilian, not a warrior like you or I. We presumed too much of her. We all owed her our lives several times over, Captain. We still do. And how do we choose to repay her?" "No wonder she's angry," Susan said, her mind whirling with the new information. She could not deny the fact that G'kar was absolutely right. "Everyone was so afraid of what the Vorlons did to her." "We fear most that which we do not understand. Now that you know more, take that knowledge with you on your search. Let it color your actions. After all that has happened to you, Captain, you may be the only person left that she will trust." [End Part 3 of ?] From: LtCmKieran@aol.com Subject: Fan Fiction Submission: A Place to Call Home (4/?) Date: Sun, 23 May 1999 16:18:57 EDT MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit -------------------------------------------------- Part 4 of ? A Place to Call Home By Terri Osborne LtCmKieran@aol.com -------------------------------------------------- Disclaimers: Save for a few characters of my own creation, it all belongs to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT, and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. If they want it, I can probably be bought off (cheap) for a story credit. ;-) Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information. Content Warning: [AC] [AL] Spoilers through Season 5 and A Call to Arms. > > > > > > > > > ---------- March 2, 2264 The rust and white planet that was Mars floated in the darkness in front of them. "Where are we landing again?" Alina asked. Lyta punched up information in the computer. "Edgars Industries has a small spaceport on the far side of the main colony. It's about two kilometers out." Alina adjusted their course as they slowly began their descent. "Do they know we're coming?" Lyta smiled thinly. "Well, I'm a few months early, but I'm sure he won't complain much." ---------- Lyta slowly shook her head as she surveyed the tunnels. Not much had changed in the two years since she had last seen these dirt walls. "I can't believe the government didn't shut these down," she said. "Well, they wanted to," Michael Garibaldi said as he rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands firmly planted in the pockets of his trousers. His usual smug, but somehow still extremely infectious, grin was plastered across his face. "Once Edgars Industries made a little land acquisition, they were out of luck." Lyta raised an eyebrow. "A little historical preservation?" "Philanthropy at its finest." "And that fighting force?" One hand left the pocket, gesturing toward the corridor before them. "If you ladies will follow me." Alina took up step behind Michael as he walked off. Lyta, however, tried to be on the lookout for any sign of a trap. She doubted there was one, but stranger things had a habit of happening, especially when Garibaldi was involved. Lyta tried to take comfort in the belief that he needed her alive and well as much as she needed his covert skills. When they had made their little deal, Lyta had been certain of her status as the only telepath capable of holding up her end of the bargain, certain that she had been the only telepath engineered to be a secret weapon for the Vorlons. She was not quite so confident anymore. In the short time she had known Alina, Lyta had only caught glimpses of the telepath's true abilities. It was enough to reinforce the belief she had had since meeting the small brunette. In all of Lyta's experience, telepaths just were not born with that level of ability. That did not even take into account the fact that Alina was such a strong telekinetic. No, Alina had to be another Vorlon secret weapon. Another telepath with the potential to break Garibaldi's blocks. If Alina had truly remained hidden since the Shadow War as she claimed, who was to say that there weren't other telepaths out there who were just as strong? Who knew if Garibaldi had not already found one? She could always just casually scan Michael, find out what she needed to know the easy way, but that was what had terrified the human race about telepaths to begin with. No, if their struggle was to have any chance of success, she had to avoid casually scanning *anyone* at all. If that had to start with her being in the dark about Garibaldi, then so be it. "Ladies," Michael said, stopping in a larger chamber. "Welcome to your new HQ." Lyta could sense Alina's amazement at the sight of their new headquarters. It matched her own. She counted fifteen people manning workstations around the room. All looked relaxed in their positions, which Lyta found quite comforting. She counted a dozen computer screens that had been set into the walls. They displayed what looked to her to be securecam data. It reminded her a little of the old War Room back on Babylon Five, except this one was dirtier. "Won't the power for these stations-?" "Paid for by Edgars Industries. We're putting a small research facility right over you, so the power use should go unnoticed." "What if it *is* noticed?" Michael raised an eyebrow. "I'll take care of it. Don't worry." Alina looked up from a console. "How much of the underground area is covered by securecam?" "Everything within a five kilometer radius." Michael stepped over to the console beside Alina and flipped a switch. The displays beside him began to change, each screen displaying a different camera angle for a few seconds, then changing to another view. "If it hasn't got a camera, it's got an alarm system. Not even Tessa Halloran could get into this place without major explosives or a full-scale assault team." Lyta and Alina exchanged looks. "Tessa Halloran?" "Number One," Michael said. Lyta nodded. "Are those the access tunnels from when she ran the place, or is that another little gift from Edgars Industries?" "Just call me Santa," Michael cracked. "All of the old ones are blocked up. Every way in here has been dug in the last six months." "So, when do I get to meet with the government rep?" "This evening." Lyta could not help but smile. This was working out far better than she had planned. "How many people in all?" she could not resist asking. Michael touched the screen closest to him, then scrolled through a list. "Well, looks like we're up over three hundred right now." "Three hundred? In a year?" Lyta asked, stunned. She had not expected so many of her scattered telepaths to find the new headquarters so quickly. "That's just yesterday's count," Michael said. "We're getting more people coming in by the day." "How many are rogue telepaths?" "About ninety percent." Alina turned. "We've got two hundred and seventy rogue telepaths hiding in the Corps' backyard?" Michael's grin expanded. "Poetic, isn't it?" "Who's our strongest teep?" Lyta asked. "That would be me," a voice from behind Lyta said. She turned to find a man standing in the tunnel she had just left. He held the laser torch in his hand as if he were very comfortable with it. He ran his free arm across his forehead, wiping some of the sweat and grime out of what looked to be dark blonde hair. The sheer strength of his presence belied his compact build. The mix of sincerity and skepticism in his eyes reminded her somewhat of Zack. There was an air of authority about him, and Lyta knew in an instant that he had been the person in charge of this small unit until this moment. He introduced himself as Andrew Keene. "Mister Keene," Lyta said, "I take it Mister Garibaldi has filled you in on everything that is happening here?" He sat the torch on an empty table, stepping toward the women. "You guys are taking on the Corps. That's all I needed to know." "We can trust you?" Alina asked. "I think the question is, can I trust you?" "How strong are you?" "What?" "What's your rating?" "High P12." Alina turned a raised eyebrow toward Lyta. "We've got a rogue Psi Cop?" "I wasn't a Cop." "You claim to be a P12," Lyta said. "If you're telling the truth, you *had* to be a Psi Cop." "Did I?" Keene asked. "The Corps *did* have desk jobs, you know." Lyta felt Alina's mistrust of what she was hearing. "Will you submit to a scan?" the brunette asked. "Ladies, ladies," Garibaldi interjected. "The guy's clean. He's telling the truth. I checked it out myself. Besides, he's been here since the beginning. If he was going to turn this operation over to the Corps, he'd have done it by now." "Would he?" Lyta asked. "The Corps could have made up all of the documentation he needed to prove the story, Michael. He could just as easily have been waiting on us to show up. The only real test is to scan him." "You can trust me," Keene stated, nodding toward Lyta. "But, I understand. According to the files, you're nothing more than a P5. Who's going to do the scan?" Alina turned toward her, grinning. "I'm going to let *you* take care of this one." Lyta's smile thinned as she stepped toward Keene. "Mister Keene, I have one piece of advice for you. *Never* believe the Psi Corps." She stared intently into Keene's blue eyes, walking right into his mind as if no blocks had been set in place. His surprise at the strength of the scan came to the forefront, but she passed it by in favor of more lucrative information. She could read his thoughts like a book, and decided to skim through to the last year of his life. She saw him wearing the same style of navy blue business suit that she had seen on human businessmen throughout her travels of late. No black uniform. The Psi Corps shield rested on his lapel. She could feel the gloves sliding onto his hands, the dread of another day at his job. Another day of rogue telepath paperwork. Another day of trying not to wish his name was on those papers. Another day of having to face that man. "Bester," she whispered. An argument materialized before her, an argument with a Psi Cop by the name of Alfred Bester. Bester threatened Keene. Threatened to put his family on the sleepers if he did not cooperate. Cooperate with what? Lyta could feel that Keene had planned to escape the Corps, a plan that set off warning bells in her mind. She did not sense a telepathic scan in Keene's memory, but that meant nothing when it came to Bester. Sure, Bester had been good at subtlety many years ago, but if the telepathic blocks he had put into Garibaldi's brain were any indication, the little weasel was getting almost brazen about his power. That was when she saw Keene's family fleeing from Marsdome in bulky environment suits that barely protected them from the Martian dust storms. Breather masks that did nothing to help his gasping for breath as he ran over sand dune after sand dune. The bloodhound units that had tracked them. The agony as he felt his wife's death. The terror as his young daughter stared down the barrel of a PPG rifle. The knowledge that he had been the only survivor. She pulled back, confident that what she was seeing was the truth. When she focussed on his face once more, she noticed a tear streaking through the grime on his cheek. "I'm sorry," was all she could whisper. "Don't be," he said. "I just want to be there when you take down that son of a bitch." "You will be," Lyta stated. "If there's anything I can do about it, you *will* be." "Excuse me," Garibaldi said. "Is there anyone here *without* a vendetta against Bester?" Alina waved a hand. "I don't even know who you're talking about." This surprised Lyta. "You don't? How long were you on Daltron Seven?" "About two years. I went there right after Earth fell to President Sheridan." "What about before that?" Garibaldi asked. "During the Shadow War we were looking for telepaths like you." "You had me, Mister Garibaldi. I left the Rangers when I went to Daltron Seven." "Delenn let you go?" he asked. Alina's eyes turned troubled. "Lennier said she was mourning a friend." "Friend of yours?" "Yes," she said, giving the word an air of finality. Almost as if it were punctuating her words, a rumble began in the tunnel floor. "What's that?" Lyta asked. Keene steadied his balance, then gave her a worried look. "Feels like a cave in somewhere." Alina closed her eyes for a few moments, then pointed at one of the tunnels. "That way." Michael scrolled through displays on one workstation until he found the site. "She's right." He put a message through the unit, then bolted off down the tunnel with Lyta, Alina and Keene in tow. When they reached the site, a small mountain of red rock that blocked the tunnel to its ceiling greeted them. "Dig crew is on its way," Garibaldi said. "Was anything on the other side of this?" Lyta asked. Michael shook his head. "Empty bunk rooms. Nobody's moved in yet." Lyta stared intently at the rock. "Somebody's in there." "Can't be," Keene said. "This tunnel was supposed to be cleared." "Well, it's not." Lyta felt something inside her beginning to take control. Her vision slowly changed until everything around her was bathed in shades of gray. "Where are you picking it up?" Alina asked, stepping around Keene. Keene backed away as Lyta turned to look at them. "About five meters ahead," Lyta said. "Very weak." Alina nodded, stepping up beside the redhead. "I'll follow you in." Lyta was surprised when Alina did just that. The brunette latched onto Lyta's telepathic line, following it to the source of the feeling. "Stand back," Alina said. The men moved back, half because of the warning, half out of utter shock. "What are you going to do?" Lyta asked. "It's a child, Lyta. I'm going to bring her out." Lyta turned a slow stare onto Alina. "You can do that?" "Watch and learn." Lyta did just that, and was happy to see color slowly return to her vision. She took careful note as Alina adjusted her breathing, still staring at the mountain of rock. Then everything began to move. The sounds of rocks falling into a gap filled the tunnel. Slowly at first, then picking up speed. Alina's closed eyes began to quiver as if she were sleeping. "What's she doing?" Garibaldi asked. "Lyta?" The redhead shook her head. "I see it, but I don't believe it." Rocks at the base of the small mountain slowly began to shift. "Everybody back!" Keene shouted. "No," Lyta said. "Look!" Rock after rock began moving aside until a small tunnel was formed. With a delicate slowness the injured child, a little girl, came sliding out of that tiny space. Red dirt was clotted around a wound on her forehead. She was curled on her side with her arms folded around her knees. Cuts and scrapes covered her exposed skin. Lyta reached a hand toward the girl's dirty face. The poor thing could not have been more than five years old. When the child was free of the rocks, Alina collapsed to the ground. Keene was beside her in an instant, but she tried to wave him off. "I'm okay," she said. "But, whatever you do don't move her right now. She's got internal injuries and a severe head wound. Does this dump have a doctor around?" Garibaldi nodded. "Just to be safe, I called him when I called the dig crew. He should be here any second." The little girl took a gasping breath before a coughing fit racked her body. It didn't take long for Lyta to be in sympathy with the child. It looked as if every cough seized her with pain. When the hacking finally subsided, the child began to softly whimper. Lyta tried to brush the dust off of the girl's face. "Honey, it's going to be okay." "It hurts," the little girl moaned. "I know," Alina answered, slowly crawling across the tunnel floor to where the child lay. "The rocks hurt you, didn't they?" The girl tried to nod, but abruptly stopped. "Honey," Lyta said. "What's your name?" "Kelly." "Well, Kelly, you've got one heck of a bump on your head," Alina stated. The exhaustion was evident in her voice, but the brunette managed to keep it out of her expression. "But, I think you're going to be all right." "You a doctor?" Kelly asked. Alina turned a guilty look to Lyta. "Well, actually, yes." "You're a doctor?" Garibaldi asked. "Why did you ask if we had one?" "Do I *look* like I can properly take care of her right now, Mister Garibaldi? She needs help, but right now I can't give her the care she needs. She needs two people right now, a doctor and her mother. If you want to help, you can go find them." He turned to Lyta, who just raised one red eyebrow and said, "You heard her, Michael. Go." Michael nodded, and vanished back down the corridor. "How did you do that?" Lyta asked. Alina braced herself against Keene as she tried to sit up. "Old telekinetic's trick," she replied. "If this is any indication, I may have to teach it to a few people." "Can I be first on that list?" Alina nodded. "But, I didn't think you were a telekinetic." Lyta smiled. "A little gift from the Vorlons." Alina pressed a hand to Kelly's head, close to the wound. "Kelly, you're going to feel a little tingle, but it's going to make your head better, okay?" "Okay." Alina adjusted her breathing once again, closing her eyes as her palm rested around the curve of Kelly's skull. "No skull fracture. This I can take care of." "Are you sure?" Keene asked. "She has a concussion. That's going to have to heal itself. The gash in her forehead I can handle." "Watch and learn?" Lyta asked. "Watch and learn," Alina smiled. "Mister Keene, if you could be so kind as to keep holding me up?" Keene shifted position, until he was crouched behind Alina. "I'll be right here." "Now, Kelly, tell me when you feel that tingle, all right?" Kelly tried to nod, but the pain stopped any movement. "Okay," she whispered. Alina moved her palm so it hovered over the gash. Lyta felt the focus of a great deal of energy through that hand. She could only remember feeling something similar once before, right after she had helped her Kosh assassinate the last Vorlon ambassador to Babylon Five. It was the sensation that a vast amount of energy was being used to heal. This was a trick Lyta desperately wanted to learn. "I feel it," Kelly said. Her voice even sounded stronger. "Good," Alina whispered. "It won't be long, now." Before Lyta realized it was over, Alina moved her palm away from Kelly's head and turned to Keene. There was no visible difference in the little girl's condition. "Garibaldi said these were empty bunks," Alina said. "Have water pumps been installed yet?" Keene nodded. "About ten meters back in the tunnel." Lyta was on her feet before Alina turned around. "I'll get it." "Get something to wash her face with," Alina called as Lyta stepped away. She walked the ten meters and came to a small faucet. Water was almost as scarce on Mars as it was on the Moon, but when she considered that Edgars Industries was footing the bill, it wasn't surprising to see a few simple luxuries here and there. A few seconds of hunting netted her a small, relatively clean pail and a rag that wasn't covered in too much red dust. She could hear Garibaldi's voice in the tunnel as she finished filling the pail. "They're right down here, Doc," Michael said as he passed Lyta. "Minette's a doctor, too." The camp's doctor was a younger man, Lyta figured him for less than thirty years of age at best. He stood about a head shorter than Garibaldi, with shoulder-length, curly hair that was just a shade shy of the red dirt that surrounded them. "Then why isn't she tending to the patient?" he asked. "It took everything she had just to get her out of the rubble," Lyta interrupted. "Now, if you'll excuse me, they're waiting for this water." She edged her way around the doctor and Garibaldi, arriving back with Keene, Alina and Kelly just seconds ahead of the two men. "Here," she said, handing Alina the pail and cloth. The small brunette looked so fragile. It took Keene's help just to get her into a sitting position. Her dark green eyes raised to the man with Garibaldi. "The camp doctor, I presume?" "Yes," he said. "I take it you're Minette?" The dig crew entered the tunnel as Alina dropped one of the rags into the pail. "Yes. This is Kelly. She's got a concussion and what feel to me like three broken ribs. One is a little too close to her lung for my liking." Alina wiped the wet rag over the girl's head. Lyta's eyes shot open as the dirt and blood were washed away, revealing perfect flesh without even a scar. She heard Keene's breath catch. "How'd you do that?" Keene asked. "Old telekinetic's trick," Alina quipped, turning toward the camp doctor. "I'm too weak to do any more for her. Move her, and you could puncture her lung." "Leave her here and I can't set those ribs," the doctor replied. Keene's eyes darted between the women. "We could keep her here until Alina gets her energy back. Could we move her then?" Garibaldi shook his head. "And if this tunnel goes in the meantime, this is a pretty pointless argument." The sound of tiny rocks falling echoed through the tunnel. Lyta felt something almost telepathic brush against her defenses. She instantly knew that her abilities were being measured. She also knew it was Alina taking the numbers. "Okay," Alina sighed. "Get something *stable* in here to take her out on. No stretchers. Are there any *low* tables in this place that have wheels?" "How low?" Keene asked. "The lower the better." Lyta followed Alina's gaze over to where the dig crew was quietly working on making a molehill out of the mountain of red dirt. Behind them were three low carts. Only one was empty, but from where Lyta stood it looked just big enough to carry Kelly. "That'll do," Lyta said. Alina nodded. "Yes. We should be able to lift her that high without too much risk." "You just said if we moved her we'd puncture a lung," the doctor said. "I know of a way that we can control the move," Alina said, her eyes turning to Lyta. "But right now I can't do it alone." Lyta nodded. "Just tell me what to do." "Can you reach in and see the broken ribs?" "What?" Alina pursed her lips. "I'll take that as a no. Damn. All right. Can you follow a telekinetic contact?" "I think so." "Good. I'll guide you in. We're going to hold the broken ribs in place while she's lifted into the cart. If it's as stable as it looks, she should be okay from there on." The sounds of another rockslide came from deeper in the tunnel. "We don't have a lot of time," Garibaldi said. "Then we do it now," Alina stated. Her eyes slowly closed, and Lyta felt that same energy flowing out of the small woman's body. She felt the energy seep into Kelly's tiny body. It took a few moments for the connection to stabilize, allowing Lyta to follow the thin telekinetic thread. Lyta's copper eyes closed, and images came alive in her mind. She saw Kelly's thin body, the individual layers of her skin, muscle tissue, nerves, tendons, and finally the broken fragments of bone. It was a frightening three-dimensional anatomy lesson. "I see the break," she whispered. "Good," Alina answered. With Alina's words came a change in the telekinetic energies being used. Lyta felt those energies form a barrier between the jagged edges of the broken bones and the fragile tissue of Kelly's lung. It was a weak barrier, one Lyta immediately threw all of the energy she could spare into reinforcing. "Lift her," Alina directed. "Now." Someone did as they were told, and Lyta was forced to strengthen her hold on Kelly's broken ribs. It took a surprising amount of energy just to hold the bones in place for the few seconds it took to get Kelly into the cart. Her body sagged, but someone thought quickly and put their hands under her shoulders. She felt her knees weaken, and the person's grasp became stronger. "She's in the cart," Keene's voice said. Lyta could not hear Alina's voice, but felt the instruction to slowly release her hold on the child. She followed Alina's lead, helping to temporarily set Kelly's ribs into position. Lyta had the utmost confidence in their procedure until, without any warning whatsoever, Alina's energies vanished. She heard Keene's voice repeating Alina's name. Lyta gently released her hold on Kelly, praying to the Great Maker that nothing would happen when they tried to move that cart out of there. The hands continued to hold her upright. Her telekinetic abilities freed, she reached out telepathically and met very familiar territory. "Thanks, Michael," she said as she opened her eyes. "You going to be okay?" he asked. Lyta nodded. "Just a little weak. That takes a lot out of you." "You, maybe," Michael scoffed, tilting his head toward where Keene was hovering over an unconscious Alina. "You think she's going to be okay?" "Telepathically, she's just out cold," Keene replied. Michael turned toward the camp doctor. "What about physically?" "Been a while since I've seen anything like that," the doctor replied. "Looks like an extreme case of exhaustion. I've got everything to treat it back in the Infirmary." Lyta looked around at the empty cavern. "Kelly's got the only cart. How do we get her back?" "Easy," Keene said, lifting Alina's unconscious body in both arms. "I'll meet you guys there." [End Part 4]