From: LtCmKieran@aol.com
Subject: Fan Fiction Submission:  A Place to Call Home 5 of ?
Date: Sat, 12 Jun 1999 18:52:24 EDT

Apologies for the delay in getting these out.  I, too, was struck by exams 
recently.

Cheers!
Terri

--------------------------------------------------
Part 5 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]

Potential spoilers through Season 5 and A Call to Arms.

>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>

----------

March 2, 2264

	Alina's eyes opened to a dark red ceiling that looked suspiciously 
like the insides of her eyelids.  She tried again, with the same result.  
When she was certain that her eyes were not lying, that they were truly open, 
she attempted to turn her head.  Every motion resulted in a bone-deep ache 
that made her wonder precisely what stunt had landed her in this condition.  
	A small child's cough brought her back to reality with a resounding 
crash.
	"Kelly.  How-?" she rasped.  Her arms wanted to push herself up from 
whatever she was laying on, but the energy to do it just was not there.  
"What happened?" she whispered.
	"You passed out," a voice softly reminded her.  "You're in the 
Infirmary."
	"How did I-?"
	"I brought you in right behind Kelly."
	Ignoring the pain, she turned her head toward the voice and found 
Andrew Keene sitting beside the bed.  He had washed up somewhat since the 
cave in, but was still wearing the same dark work clothes.  From their rather 
rumpled look, he appeared to have slept in them. "How long?" she asked.
	"Eighteen hours."
	"How's Kelly?"
	Keene stood, leaning against the bedside.  "Doctor Carpenter says her 
ribs are going to take a bit to heal, but she's going to be okay.  Thanks to 
you.  Her mother's ready to nominate you for sainthood."
	"Where *is* her mother?" she asked, choosing to ignore the flattery 
in his voice.
	"Over with Kelly.  They've both been sleeping for hours."
	"How long before Carpenter's going to let me out of here?"
	"Tomorrow, maybe."
	Her eyes narrowed.  "Maybe?"
	"You're a doctor.  Would *you* release a patient in your condition?"
	She raised one eyebrow.  "Point made.  Where's Lyta?"
	"Sleeping, I think.  It *is* three in the morning."
	"Did she get a chance to talk to the government reps yet?"
	Keene nodded.  "This afternoon."
	"What's the word?"
	"They'll work with us as much as they can, but if we get caught by 
the Corps or Earthgov, we're on our own."
	Alina smiled.  "Wonder how long it took her to convince them to come 
that far?"
	"Well, she said that once she reminded them that Mars wouldn't have 
become independent without her, it didn't take long at all."
	"At least we don't have to worry about hiding from the government."
	Keene pursed his lips.  "Everybody except you."
	"What?  Have you been awake too long?"
	He yawned.  "Now that you mention it."
	"I'm too tired for this, Mister Keene.  If you won't explain 
yourself, please let me go back to sleep."
	"Go back to sleep," he soothed.  "You've got enough to worry about 
right now just getting well."
	She slowly curled onto her side, her back toward him, in an attempt 
at slumber.  It took mere seconds before thoughts began to nag at the back of 
her mind.  "Mister Keene?" she asked.
	"Andrew," he corrected.
	"All right.  Andrew.  Why are you sitting at my bedside at three in 
the morning?"
	"It was my turn," he stated.
	Alina sighed.  "Of course."
	"Can I ask you a question?"
	"As long as I don't have to move, yes."
	She heard movement, and was not surprised when he walked around the 
bed to face her.  What she did find amusing was the sight of him carrying his 
chair over to the new side of the bed, sitting so they were still at eye 
level. 
	"How did you do that?" he asked.
	"Do what?"
	His blue eyes darkened.  "You know what I mean.  Pulling Kelly out of 
that rubble, that's something I've seen a few high-level telekinetics do 
before.  But healing her?  Who taught you that?"
	"Certainly wasn't the Psi Corps, was it?"
	"Shadows wanted telekinetic assassins, not doctors."
	"You just answered your own question," she whispered.
	His brow furrowed.  "How?  Seems to me like assassins are the polar 
opposite of doctors."
	"They are.  Just like the Shadows had their opposites."
	His eyes shot open.  "The Vorlons?  You were trained to heal people 
by the Vorlons?"
	"Indirectly.  The Minbari actually trained me, but they used Vorlon 
techniques.  At least, they *said* they were Vorlon techniques," she replied, 
fighting to keep her emotions out of her voice.
	"I didn't realize the Rangers trained doctors," he mused.
	"They don't," she stated, backing it with a glare that suggested he 
press no further.
	He took the hint.  "So what are you doing here?"
	"Recovering."
	The corners of his lips perked up.  "Very funny.  Seriously, why did 
someone with your talent join up with Lyta?"
	Alina rolled onto her back, surprised by the lack of pain involved.  
Something was causing her to regain her strength faster than ever before.  It 
was enough to trigger her paranoia. "It's been a long time since I've been 
able to trust anybody," she softly said. "Why should I trust you?"
	"All right," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.  "How about I 
answer the same question?"
	"Love to hear it."
	"I'm surprised you didn't pick up on it when she scanned me."
	She quirked an eyebrow.  "I try not to listen in on other people's 
scans when I can help it.  So, tell me, what did Bester do to you?"
	Keene's gaze fell to the ground.  "Took it all away."
	"You weren't alone.  The Corps took a lot of children away from their 
parents."
	"No," he said, "that's not it.  Bester . . . he wanted something I 
just couldn't give him."
	"So, he took it all away?"
	"All of it."
	His pain was evident in far more than his closed expression.  It 
seeped through her weakened telepathic defenses like water through a 
threadbare cloth.  "What did he want?" she asked.
	"He wanted me to give it up.  Be his little genetic puppet."
	Alina's brow furrowed.  "What?"
	"You know about the Corps' arranged marriages?"
	She shook her head.
	"You don't?" he asked.
	She could feel shock begin to overcome the pain.  Maybe explaining it 
all to her would do him some good.  "No, and why is a long story for another 
time.  I take it the Corps arranges the marriages so that stronger telepaths 
produce stronger children?"
	He gave her a brief nod.  "You get the idea.  Well, amazingly enough, 
I actually fell in love with the woman they wanted me to marry.  She was a 
P9, I'm a P12.  Alexandra, that's our daughter, she was a P11."
	"So, the theory works?"
	"Most of the time.  But, about a year ago, Bester found this Psi Cop 
recruit.  She was a high P12."
	"Let me guess, he wanted you to divorce your wife and join with her?"
	His lips perked at the corners.  "You *sure* you're too weak to scan 
me?"
	"Yes," she dryly replied.  "From what I've heard about that man, and 
I use that word loosely, the idea fits.  So, being a person with morals, you 
refused?"
	"Of course."
	Alina grimaced, finally beginning to understand where the story was 
leading.  "And since you wouldn't leave your wife and daughter, Bester chose 
to eliminate the problem?"
	"He threatened to.  Said he'd put them on the sleepers if I didn't 
cooperate."
	"Sleepers?"
	He gave her an incredulous look.  "You don't know about the sleepers, 
either?"
	"I think I might have, but it was a *very* long time ago."
	"I want to hear this long story sometime, agreed?" he asked, leaning 
an elbow onto the bed.
	She nodded.  After this, she actually might owe it to him.  "Just let 
me get back on my feet first, figure out what's going on in the present 
before I try to sort out the past."
	"Deal," he said.  "Let's just say that the sleepers are this 
wonderful little drug that basically turns telepaths into walking zombies.  
They've been using it for years to control teeps that won't join the Corps.  
Some of the reports that crossed my desk talked about people who'd committed 
suicide after about a year.  Not too many people adjust to them well."
	She could not hide her disgust.  "And he threatened to do this to 
your family if you didn't leave them?"
	He nodded.
	"What about genetic engineering?"
	Keene shuddered.  "He wouldn't go for that.  I think it's a power 
trip for him."
	"Shame you didn't kill the little bastard," she said.
	"Trust me, right now I wish I had."
	"So, what *did* you do?"
	His eyes dropped from hers again.  "We escaped."
	"You escaped?  I didn't see any transport tubes as we flew in.  How 
did you get here?"
	"Walked."
	"You walked across that surface?"
	He took a deep breath.  "I found three old environment suits that I 
didn't think anyone would miss.  One was even small enough for Alex.  One 
night, the three of us took a walk.  I knocked out the airlock guards, and we 
got in the suits and went outside. We managed to get a kilometer out from the 
Dome before the troops were called in."
	She smiled.  "You must have hit them pretty hard."
	"Being a P12 helps," he said.  "Anyway, I never realized how hard it 
is to run in an environment suit.  They had a transport after us in no time.  
I'm still not sure how I managed to hide, but I know they killed Renee and 
Alex."
	"How?"
	He lifted his eyes back to hers, and the pain in them stabbed at her 
like a dagger.  "I felt it," he whispered.
	Alina swallowed, not sure of what she could say next.  A part of her 
cursed the Vorlons for creating telepaths in the first place, but a part of 
her also grudgingly thanked them.  She could only imagine what kind of doubts 
would have been going through Keene's mind if he had not known that his 
family was dead.
	Then again, if the Vorlons had never created human telepaths, none of 
them would have been in this mess.  The universe would have no Psi Corps to 
terrorize it.  Okay, maybe that would have been a blessing.
	Of course, if the Vorlons had not created telepaths, the Shadows 
might have won the War.
	It was definitely a tradeoff.
	She slid her arm down from its resting place on her hip, her fingers 
coming to rest on the curve of his elbow.  She knew the risks that came with 
physical contact, but did not care.  A long time ago, when her family had 
still been alive, physical contact was actually comforting.  She hoped the 
trend still existed.  "I'm going to make you the same promise Lyta did," she 
said, fighting the emotions that were barraging her telepathically.  "If I 
can help it, you *will* be there when we get Bester. If anyone has a right to 
help us bring him down, it's you."
	He managed to push the pain into a corner.  "Thank you.  Now, what 
about you?  Why are *you* here?"
	"I go where I'm needed," she shrugged.
	"And believe me, from what I saw earlier, she's needed here," Michael 
Garibaldi's voice sounded from the door.  "We can use all of the help we can 
get."
	Alina pulled her hand away from Keene, more embarrassed at the fact 
that she had not sensed Garibaldi's presence than anything else.  "Mister 
Garibaldi.  Is this just exquisite timing, or did you know I was awake?"
	"I told him," Lyta said, following Garibaldi into the room.
	"And how did you know?  Never mind.  Why do I have the distinct 
feeling there's a conspiracy against me around here," Alina drily remarked.  
"And what, pray tell, has brought the two of you to my bedside at three in 
the morning?"
	Garibaldi gestured toward Lyta.  "After you."
	The redhead smiled at Keene.  "You told her about the meeting?"
	"Yes, he did," Alina interjected.  "And something about me being the 
only one who had to worry about hiding from the government.  Are you going to 
explain that, or am I going to have to waste what little energy I actually 
have scanning someone?"
	"Well," Lyta said, hesitating.  "You're probably not going to like 
this."
	"Probably?" Garibaldi cracked.
	Lyta shot him a look, then turned back to Alina.  "We got clearance 
from the Mars government, but it was conditional."
	Alina attempted to nod.  "We don't get caught.  What's that have to 
do with me?"
	"That wasn't the only condition," Lyta said.  "They wouldn't go along 
with it unless I got out of the picture."
	"You can't leave here, Lyta.  We can't win this without you."
	The redhead nodded.  "I know, and I'm not going anywhere.  I fully 
intend to head up this outfit for as long as possible.  We just need to make 
the government *think* I've stepped down."
	Alina swallowed hard, getting the general idea of what was happening. 
"And you need someone the Corps doesn't know about, right?"
	Lyta nodded.  "It's just for the public.  Down here, nothing will 
change."
	Alina lay back against the bed, staring intently at the red dirt in 
the ceiling.  "Well, I suppose fifteen years is long enough to hide."
	"Fifteen years?" Garibaldi asked.  "You've hid from the Corps for 
fifteen years?"
	"Yes, Mister Garibaldi."
	"How?"
	Alina turned her eyes to him.  "Ask me again some other time."
	Garibaldi turned to Lyta, who simply shrugged.  "I don't know, 
either, Michael.  I've never heard of anyone hiding for that long."
	Alina felt Keene's hand touch hers.
	<*The Minbari, right?*>
	<*Yes.*>
	His brow furrowed.  <*But, fifteen years ago-*>
	<*Was the end of the Earth-Minbari War.  I know.*>
	"All right, I'll do it," Alina stated.  "I just want to go on record 
that I *don't* like the idea of being a walking target, however."
	Garibaldi chuckled.  "From what I've seen and heard today, lady, that 
would be impossible."
	"Nothing is impossible, Mister Garibaldi," Alina countered.  "That 
much I know for certain."
	"She's right," Keene added, turning toward Lyta.  "Yesterday, I would 
have said the two of you were impossible.  The Corps tried for years to 
induce telekinesis in high-level teeps.  They failed every time.  What 
happened to the two of you?"
	Lyta shrugged.  "The Vorlons.  By the time I really had an idea of 
what had happened to me, they were gone.  The fact that they created human 
telepaths isn't exactly a secret anymore.  A few years ago they took me in.  
They were the ones who made me stronger."
	"What about you, Alina?"
	"Sorry," she cracked.  "No grand adventures here.  I've been a 
telepath for as long as I can remember."
	Lyta's jaw dropped.  "You mean you've been at this strength since 
*birth*?"
	"Since I was five, actually."
	"And you've never been to the Vorlon homeworld?"
	Alina shook her head.  "Not unless my parents took a side trip they 
never told me about."
	"If it's any help," Keene offered, "the Corps *was* seeing a slow 
increase in the natal levels of telepaths right before the Shadow War.  But, 
the telepath with the highest naturally-occurring rating we had on record was 
only a P14, and she wasn't telekinetic at all."
	Lyta leaned against the bed.  "I think it's probably a safe bet that 
the Vorlons had a hand in it."
	"Hell, *I* wouldn't bet against you," Garibaldi said.  "Stephen, 
maybe, but not me."
	Lyta laughed.  "Franklin?  Never."
	Before she realized that she was doing it, Alina's hand latched onto 
Garibaldi's arm in a death grip.  "You *know* Stephen Franklin?"
	"Well, yes," Garibaldi said, staring at her hand.
	"*Doctor* Stephen Franklin, used to be stationed on Babylon Five?" 
Alina implored, daring to get her hopes up for the first time since they had 
left the station.  "Do you have a way that I can contact him?"
	"Yes.  He's an old buddy of mine," he said, warily eyeing her 
fingers.  "What do you need to get in touch with him for?"
	Alina slowly released her grip.  "It's about an old buddy of *mine*."
	"The one from the station?" Lyta asked.
	"Yes.  From what I could tell, Stephen Franklin is one of only two 
people that can tell me what happened to him."
	Garibaldi's eyes darkened.  "Who told you only two people knew what 
happened?"
	"Station security," Alina said.  "A man named-" 
	"Zack Allan," Garibaldi and Lyta simultaneously stated.
	Garibaldi visibly tensed.  "Please tell me he didn't say the other 
person was Ivanova."
	"He did."
	"Marcus," he stated, turning toward Lyta.  "Has to be him."
	The redhead nodded.  "I know Susan knows what happened, but do you 
think Stephen-?"
	Garibaldi shrugged.  "Considering how moody he got after Marcus died, 
I'll bet he knew."
	"Everyone is throwing around that word as if it were the truth," 
Alina cracked.  "What I saw was very close, but not quite there yet."
	Lyta's eyes bulged.  "You *saw* him?  Nobody's seen him for two 
years!"
	"That's because it appears that Mister Garibaldi's 'old buddy' 
slipped him into a cryo tube before anyone knew what happened."
	"You could contact him in a cryo tube?" Lyta asked.
	"He's not a telepath, so I couldn't make full contact, but it was 
enough to know that there's still somebody home in there."
	Garibaldi shook his head.  "Stephen knew what happened, all right.  
I'll bet he also knew that Marcus was still alive.  No matter what Ivanova 
said, he wouldn't have wasted the resources to put him in there if there 
weren't *some* hope of bringing him back."
	"Susan," Lyta whispered.  "My God, how do we tell *her*?"
	"We don't," Alina flatly stated.  "Lyta, I know he's still alive in 
there.  The problem is what would happen if he were taken out.  You have no 
idea how difficult it is to keep the -- well, for lack of a better word, 
life-force -- within the body when they're that close to death.  I've only 
seen something like that attempted once, and it didn't work."
	Keene touched her hand.  "What would it take to get it to work?"
	Alina shook her head.  "I don't know.  When I saw it tried, there 
were nine very strong telekinetics, as well as nine strong telepaths.  All 
specially trained.  Like I said, that didn't work."
	Lyta turned to Keene.  "How many teeks do we have?"
	"Not many," he said.  "Twenty, maybe thirty tops."
	"Got to be better than nine.  Alina, can you train them for something 
like this?"
	Alina could not believe what she was hearing.  "We're in the middle 
of waging a war here and you're talking about training someone to possibly 
damage another person's life-force?  Knowledge is power, Lyta.  Do we really 
want that kind of power floating around where the Corps could get their hands 
on it?"
	Lyta raised an eyebrow.  "You're right.  Hell.  Michael, if you see 
her, you can't tell Susan *anything* that was just said, okay?  She might 
know you're keeping something from her, but you can't say a word. It's for 
her own good."
	Garibaldi nodded.  "Like the last thing any one of us needs is 
Ivanova mad at us."
	"We still should look into it," Keene said, pulling Alina's 
attentions to him.  "I don't know who this Ivanova is, but from the sound of 
it they were close."
	Lyta smiled wistfully.  "You have no idea.  Hell, *she* had no idea."
	Alina managed a small laugh.  "That sounds like Marcus, all right.  
I've met Minbari acolytes who weren't as shy as that one." 
	"We need a plan here," Lyta said.  "If it's possible to pull this 
off, how do we do it?"
	"You guys worry about the war.  Let me work on Marcus," Alina said.  
"But it's going to take a *lot* of time.  Mister Garibaldi, if you could 
manage to get me a secure connection to Minbar, that would help."
	Garibaldi nodded.  "Don't think that will be a problem.  I'll see 
what I can do."
	Lyta placed a hand on Alina's shoulder.  "If there's anything I can 
do for this, all you have to do is say the word.  I didn't know him very 
well, but I do know what losing him did to Susan and Delenn.  They treated me 
like a human being when nobody else would.  I owe them for that."
	"If we can pull this off," Keene said with a soft laugh, "I'm 
nominating all of us for godhood."
	"It's a Vorlon technique," Alina countered.  "If we can pull this 
off, we'll have earned it."

[End Part 5 of ?] 


From: LtCmKieran@aol.com
Subject: Fan Fiction Submission - A Place to Call Home 6 of ?
Date: Sat, 12 Jun 1999 18:52:35 EDT

--------------------------------------------------
Part 6 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]

Potential spoilers through Season 5 and A Call to Arms.

>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>

March, 2264
	
	"It's a dead-end, John.  All I know is that from here Liana Stewart 
went to B5.  There's no sign of where Lyta went.  It's like her ship just 
disappeared." 
	The familiar face on Susan's vidscreen frowned.  "I don't know, 
Susan.  Zack was sure he could trust this Stewart?"
	"This is Zack, John.  If he trusts the information, I trust it."
	"Problem is it doesn't jibe with the latest reports out of Mars."
	"Those haven't made it here, yet," Susan said.  "What's the story?'
	The smile that spread across Interstellar Alliance President John 
Sheridan's face was the same paternal smile she'd seen from him over and over 
in the years since their first meeting on Io.  This time, however, she was 
beginning to see how much his new job was wearing on him.  He looked about 
ten years older than the last time she'd seen him, the day she'd left Babylon 
Five.  "Well, it's no surprise you haven't heard about this one yet," he 
said.  "The only reason I know is because Tessa Halloran just sent me a copy 
of the communique.  Anyway, Mars is saying that they know who's behind 
Remember Byron now, and it's not Lyta."
	Susan could not hide her surprise at that.  "Wait a second.  How 
often does a resistance movement have a coup?"
	"Well, this one did.  From the report I got, the new leader is a 
woman named Alina Minette. Ever heard of her?"
	Susan reached for her coffee, racking her brain for the name and 
coming up empty.  "No.  I take it they tried Psi Corps?"
	John raised an eyebrow.  "Yes, and this is where it gets interesting. 
 Psi Corps is saying that they don't have a record of an Alina Minette ever 
being in their ranks.  They believe she's a normal."
	"What?  What in the hell is a normal doing leading a telepath 
resistance?"
	"That's the sixty-four thousand credit question."
	"How long ago did she come into power?"
	"Not long.  Two, maybe three weeks."
	Susan took a long sip from the mug.  "They could be lying."
	"It's possible.  But how could they have known these reports would 
get into our hands?"
	"They're telepaths," Susan scoffed.  "You know Bester as well as I 
do.  What are the odds that he's the only demon in the bunch?  I wouldn't be 
surprised if he had telepaths eavesdropping on the Mars government.  Hell, 
didn't Garibaldi try a similar trick with Byron's people right after the 
Alliance was formed?"
	The irritation that appeared on her old friend's face told her 
everything.  "He wanted to.  They really ended up doing it themselves, but 
you're right."
	"I'm always right, John," Susan quipped.  "You should know that by 
now.  Has the Alliance taken a formal stance on this yet?"
	He shook his head.  "Too many of the ambassadors remember what 
Byron's people did back when we were on B5.  It's been everything Delenn and 
I can do to keep them from putting together a lynch mob."
	"Now you know how the other half lives," Susan said.  "Clark must 
have thought the same thing about us."
	"Maybe, but at least Luchenko isn't mounting a full-scale propaganda 
war against them."
	Susan sipped her coffee.  "She can't.  If she does, she risks 
alienating what's left of the Corps.  Right now, they're the good guys.  If 
popular opinion turns against *them*, the whole operation's screwed."
	"And I thought being Alliance President was bad enough."
	This time, it was her turn to smile.  "No, on Minbar you just get to 
baby-sit a bunch of overgrown spoiled children all day.  At least you've got 
practice.  Speaking of which, how's David?'
	Sheridan laughed.  "Holy terror, as always.  What really scares me is 
that he hasn't hit the so-called 'terrible twos' yet."
	"Now you know why I'm *never* having kids," she said.
	"Never say never, Susan.  Anyway," Sheridan said, leaning back in his 
chair, "what's your plan?"
	Susan studied the swirling coffee in her mug.  "The trail on Lyta 
runs out here at Daltron Seven, but she *did* approach this Liana Stewart 
about joining the resistance.  Granted, that was about a month ago now, but 
if Stewart decides to join, she'll have to be able to meet up with Lyta 
somewhere.  I'm thinking it's high time I met this Liana Stewart."
	John nodded.  "Sounds like a good idea.  Have you reported any of 
this to Major Ryan yet?"
	"Everything except what had to do with Marcus."
	"Sounds good," he said.  "Look, if you need any help-"
	"I'll be knocking on the front door of Alliance HQ.  Thanks."  She 
was just about to sign off when an idea struck.  "Wait a minute, John."
	"Yes, Susan?'
	"Did Halloran send you a picture of this Alina Minette?"
	He shook his head.  "Not a picture.  Nobody's seen her long enough to 
take a picture.  Best they could do was a composite drawing."
	"Can I see it?"
	"Sure," he said, reaching for something off to his side.   After a 
brief second of fidgeting, he turned back to the screen.  "It's on its way to 
you now.  That all you need?"
	As soon as the download was complete, Susan called the picture up on 
an adjacent screen.  She fought to keep her reaction out of her expression.  
"For now, John.  Thanks, I owe you one."
	"Anytime, Susan."
	John Sheridan's face disappeared from the monitor.  Once the 
subsequent Interstellar Alliance logo also faded, Susan's fingers flew over 
the touch screen.  She called up a photograph from the file Zack had sent.  
It was a securecam shot taken during Stewart's visit to the station a little 
over a week before.  She left the picture up, staring at the two images.
	"I'll be damned," she whispered.
	She quickly dismissed the images, tapping her link in the process.  
"Mister O'Connell, get me Captain Lochley on Babylon Five."
	Within seconds, Elizabeth Lochley's face appeared on her vidscreen.  
"Yes, Captain?"
	"Sorry to disturb you," Susan began, "but Zack sent me a file on a 
visitor you had about a week ago.  A woman named Liana Stewart.  I need to 
track this woman down.  Did she file a flight plan when she left?"
	Lochley checked another monitor.  "Yes.  According to this she was 
headed for Minbar, then Mars."
	"Mars?"
	Lochley nodded.
	"Is Garibaldi still living there?"
	"Yes," Lochley sighed.  Susan could see relief in the woman's eyes.  
"He hasn't been back here for months."
	Susan smiled.  What better place to wage a war against Psi Corps than 
from their own backyard? It was absolutely brilliant.  Earthgov would never 
go up against a corporation like Edgars Industries without concrete proof of 
Michael's involvement, and knowing him, they would never get it.  If Lyta 
really was on Mars, she would wager an entire year's pay that Michael 
Garibaldi knew how to find her.  And with Lyta would have to come Alina 
Minette and the rest of the movement.  "Thank you *very* much, Captain.  
Sorry if I disturbed you."
	Lochley shook her head.  "Not a problem.  If you need anything else-"
	"Just call.   Sorry, I've been hearing that a lot lately.  Valkyrie 
out."
	Switching off the vidscreen, she tapped her link once more.  "Captain 
to the Bridge.  Set course for Mars, best possible speed.  And O'Connell, get 
me a secure line to Edgars Industries.  I want to talk to Michael Garibaldi."
	
[End Part 6 of ?] 

From: LtCmKieran@aol.com
Subject: Fan Fiction Submission - A Place to Call Home Part 7 of ?
Date: Tue, 29 Jun 1999 09:59:59 EDT

Apologies for the delay in getting these out.

Cheers!
Terri

----------
Part 7 of  ? 
A Place to Call Home
By Terri Osborne
LtCmKieran@aol.com
----------

Disclaimers:  All Babylon 5 characters, settings and related indicia are the 
property of JMS, Warner Brothers, and TNT.  No infringement of any copyrights 
intended.  As to the characters not seen on the television programme (Alina 
Minette, Andrew Keene, and others), they're mine.  If JMS should want them, 
however, I can 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]

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 Sarah and Sharon for helping get this baby rolling!

See part 1 for spoiler warnings
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
----------

March 25, 2264

	Alina flipped through page after page of reports, deciding what 
information to pass along to Lyta, and what their leader really didn't need 
to worry about.  Her eyes stopped at a copy of a government report dated just 
a few days earlier.  "Damn it," she whispered.
	She had barely been out of the base since arriving on Mars.   How had 
they gotten the composite drawing?
	Leaning back in her chair, she held the report of her alleged rise to 
power in a tense hand.  "Now, what?"
	"We make sure they don't get a photograph, that's what."
	She swiveled slowly toward the sound of Keene's voice.  "And how 
would you propose we do that?  We don't even know how they got the composite."
	His left eyebrow rose a fraction.  "Then we find out."
	"Bester would give quite a bit to get his creepy little hands on any 
of us.  Precisely how do you suggest we go about finding this out?"
	"Simple," he said, dropping into the chair beside her.  "Have you 
ever heard of something called a blanket scan?"
	She shook her head.
	"Well, it's part of a Psi Cop's training.  They can put a high-level 
telepathic signal out for a maximum of a kilometer all around.  Lets them 
pick up rogues.  Between the two of us, I'm sure-"
	"No," she stated.  "Nothing that would put us at risk.  Lyta told me 
about the bloodhound units.  I was hoping we'd never have to work around 
them.  Should have known better.  The only good thing is that we're well over 
a kilometer outside of the main dome.  Do you know of any way we could pick 
up on a signal like that?"
	He shook his head.  "We'd have to set up a permanent telepathic 
watch."
	"Do it," she said.  "If we've got a mole in here, I want to know 
about it.  If they're listening, I want to know about it.  Unless you know of 
someone in this unit who's more familiar with the way bloodhound units work, 
you're in charge of organizing the watch."
	"Consider it done.  I'd recommend you and Lyta both stay out of sight 
for a little while, though."
	She drew her legs up, placing her feet on the chair seat.  "That 
might be easier said than done.  How are we supposed to gather information, 
meet with important people?"
	"Send someone else," he said, his voice practically begging.  
"Garibaldi can find you a representative from one of his people.  Work 
through written orders.  Just don't appear anywhere in public."
	"Are you suggesting Lyta and I hold ourselves hostage?"
	He reached out and clutched at her hand.  "You do what you can to 
keep everyone safe.  Just like you did for Kelly."
	"Andrew-"
	"I know, you're used to looking out for yourself.  That's not the way 
it is anymore.  You can't just put yourself in harm's way.  What about your 
friend?  You may be the only hope he has."
	She took a deep breath, staring at his hand wrapped around hers.  "I 
am a Ranger.  We have ways of making the impossible happen."
	He shook his head.  "No.  We can't get them involved.  We have to do 
this ourselves.  Besides, I thought you said Delenn let you go?"
	Alina eyes widened as an idea struck.  "She did, but she also said 
that she would be there if I needed her help.  What if I used the Rangers to 
save a Ranger?"
	"He's right, Alina," Garibaldi said, stepping into the room behind 
them.  "It isn't the Rangers' fight, but you may have an idea about Marcus.  
It'll take longer, but it would be more secure than anything I could put in 
down here."
	Alina very slowly turned her head toward Michael.  "Do you still have 
connections to the Rangers?"
	"Was Clark corrupt?" he smiled.  "Of course I do.  There are special 
encrypt codes for Delenn's level of security, though.  I'll bring them on my 
next trip.  You give me a message for her, I'll make sure she gets it."
	"Thank you, Mister Garibaldi," Alina said, relieved that something 
was finally going her way.  "Now, is there something I can do for you?"
	"Yes.  Where's Lyta?  I've got something the two of you will be dying 
to hear."
	Alina turned a glance to the person at the nearest display.  "Is she 
in her quarters?"
	"Yes, ma'am."
	Keene stood, releasing her hand with a squeeze.  "I'll get her.  Be 
right back."
	No sooner was he through the door than Garibaldi began to laugh.  
"What have you done to him?"
	"Nothing," she answered.  "Why?"
	"Nothing?" he asked, surprised.  "You're serious?  He does a complete 
one-eighty in a week and you didn't do *anything*?"
	Alina's eyes were drawn to the empty doorway.  "No.  What do you 
mean?"
	Garibaldi lowered himself into the chair across the table.  "Lady, 
I've known that guy for a year now.  Up until last week, I'd only seen one 
man alive more depressed than him, and that was me when I found out about 
Lise's first marriage.  I'd say he was back to normal, but nobody around here 
knows what normal *is* for him."
	One question popped into her mind.  "Could it be the fact that he's 
not in charge anymore?"
	"You're the telepath," Garibaldi said.  "You've been in close contact 
with him.  You tell me."
	They sat in silence while Alina's brain absorbed the information.  
She had heard the story of what `normal' had been for him and seen the state 
he'd been in when she arrived.  Past experience told her that being in charge 
of such a flourishing group of people was extremely stressful.   The idea 
that he had been pushed into such a position right after losing his wife and 
daughter, well, anxiety was a kind word for it.  Lyta's arrival certainly 
explained the change in personality more than any influence she might have 
had.  She did not want to imagine the sheer hell the last year had been for 
him, but she had a feeling that she would find out eventually.
	"You rang, Michael?" Lyta asked as she stepped through the doorway.  
Keene was right at her heels, sinking into the chair he had vacated only 
minutes before.
	Garibaldi's eyes brightened as the redhead took a seat at the table.  
"You're going to love this one, Lyta," he said.  "Guess who just called this 
morning?"
	Lyta shrugged.  "I don't know, Sheridan?"
	"Good guess, but wrong.  Even better than Sheridan."
	"Ivanova?" Keene offered.
	"Give that man a cigar," Garibaldi smiled.
	"Susan?  What did she want?" Lyta asked.
	He turned to Alina with a raised eyebrow.  "She was looking for you, 
actually," he said.  "Although she said she'd rather speak to Liana Stewart."
	"I'm sure she would," Alina flatly replied.
	Keene shook his head.  "Wait a minute, that's not your name."
	Alina's eyes fell to the table.  "It was."
	"Is this all part of that long story?" Keene asked.
	Alina nodded.  "Mister Garibaldi, what precisely did she say about 
me?"
	"She knows about your connection to Marcus.  She *also* knows about 
our little story for  the government here."
	"How does she know both?"
	"This is Ivanova," Garibaldi stressed.  "Don't try to figure it out, 
just accept it and go on."
	"You're better off that way," Lyta added, smiling a little too widely 
for Alina's liking.  She had barely known the redhead two months, but Alina 
could have sworn that she was seeing the smile of someone with knowledge they 
just didn't want to bring to the table yet.  And now was simply not the time 
to broach the subject.
	"You remember the old saying `God works in mysterious ways'?" 
Garibaldi quipped.  "Well, we had a corollary on B5 -- so does Ivanova."
	Alina attempted to pull them all back to reality.  "But, what does 
she *want* with me?"
	"A meeting," Garibaldi answered.  "You, Ivanova, Lyta and me."
	"Why you?" Lyta asked.
	"I don't know how she found out you were here, but once she did, she 
was sure I'd know where to find you.  I told her if she wanted the meeting, I 
had to be there.  No discussion."
	"And she went along with it?" Keene asked, surprised.
	"She trusts him," Lyta replied.  "When does she want to meet, 
Michael?"
	Garibaldi leaned back.  "She said she'd be here in four days."
	"I take it we're meeting at your place?" Lyta asked.
	"That was the deal."
	"Lise doesn't object?"
	"She doesn't know about it yet."
	"You'd better tell her," Alina stated.  "Because if Susan is not on 
our side, things could get *very* messy."
	Garibaldi burst out laughing.  "Ivanova, willingly work for the 
*Corps*?"
	"It would never happen.  Susan hates the Corps," Lyta added.  
"Sometimes, I think she just hates telepaths in general.  Let me give you an 
idea. The first time I went rogue, I found out about a sleeper plant the 
Corps had put on Babylon Five.  The password to activate it had to be sent 
telepathically, so I went there to tell them about it.  Sheridan had me send 
the password to everyone on the staff.  She was the last one, and the only 
reason she did it was because we hadn't found the plant yet. I have never met 
anyone who was so terrified of possibly being scanned."
	"Terrified, hell," Garibaldi cut in.  "She was ready to kill you."
	"I know," Lyta stated.  "And I think I understand why."
	Alina raised one eyebrow.  "You understand?"
	An odd look passed over Lyta's face, one that suggested the telepath 
had an idea.  "Yes.  I can't explain it right now, but let me think something 
over for a little while.  Having Susan on our side *could* prove useful."
	"Even though she's a normal?" Keene asked.
	"Yes," Lyta whispered.
	"Even though you think she hates telepaths?" Alina asked.
	"I think we could reason with her," Lyta answered.
	"So, it's settled," Garibaldi said, pushing himself back from the 
table.  "Meeting's at my place in four days?"
	Lyta and Alina exchanged looks.  "Yes," Lyta said.  "Just give us a 
time to be there."
	"Got it.  I'll let you know in a couple of days."

----------

March 26, 2264

	Tall, sculpted shrubbery surrounded her as she walked toward the 
stone fountain.  It was all so familiar, yet somehow she knew she had never 
seen this particular route before.
	"Where am I?"
	Voices surrounded her, speaking a language she had not heard since 
childhood.  A language that it almost pained her to hear.
	Russian.
	"I'm home," she whispered.  "But how?  When?"
	Her mind hurled question upon question at her, until finally one 
voice broke out of the crowd.  One voice that answered all of the questions.
	"Susan!"
	The sound burrowed into her heart, curling up in an icy ball.  She 
did not want to turn around, did not want to see the owner of that voice walk 
up to her as if nothing had happened.
	She did not want to have to admit to herself that this was all 
another dream.
	That she was not really home.
	That he was not really alive.
	So she concentrated on something more stable, the columns and ornate 
decoration of the cathedral.  The gently curving walls that seemed to wrap 
her in an embrace.  The sun that shone so brilliantly in the bright blue sky 
over the courtyard in which she stood.  The splash of the water in the 
fountain.  This was home, Saint Petersburg, the place she had dared to dream 
of seeing again.  The place . . .
	"Susan?"
	A slight breeze played with the shrubs, their rustles mixing in with 
the voices.  Sounds of laughter and happiness.
	It was always about happiness.
	And here seemed to be the only place that she would ever find it.
	She listened, forcing the lone familiar voice to join the chaotic 
jumble of noise all around.  It worked, until a hand came down on her 
shoulder.
	"Are you all right?"
	Bracing herself for the inevitable, she turned around and faced the 
world her fantasies had created, the world reality simply would not let her 
have.
	"Yes," she said, forcing her spirits to rise.  "I'm fine."
	Those brilliant blue eyes watched her in silence.  She knew from his 
expression that he was trying to decide if she was telling him the truth.  
When he finally came to his conclusion, the smile that lit up his features 
reached all the way into that cobalt gaze. Four years ago, she would not have 
dared mention the kind of reaction those eyes had engendered.  After all, he 
*had* told her there was someone waiting for him at home.
	She had never envied someone so much in her entire life.
	Had she realized back then that home meant Babylon Five and the 
someone waiting was, in fact, her, how many of those fantasies would have 
become reality?
	She actually blushed at some of the ideas going through her mind.
	"You're fine?" he asked, humor very lightly coloring his voice.
	"Yes," she answered, rolling her eyes.  "What do you want?"
	"Just thought you might like to know that the wine is getting warm.  
Unfortunate thing about wine from Mars, tastes divine, but it simply does not 
keep well."
	She knew that wasn't the real reason he was trying to force her out 
of her own thoughts, but she let him take her hand anyway. The sensations 
that accompanied it convinced her that the dreams she had been having for two 
years were taking an unusual turn.  They were becoming more intense, more 
detailed with each passing second.
	Until now, her mind had only registered a feather-light brush against 
her skin whenever they touched.  Now, it was as if he were really there.  She 
could feel the texture of his skin, the strength of his hand, even warmth 
emanating from the flesh.
	Either her imagination was becoming more vivid than it had *ever* 
been before, or perhaps the suspicion she had had these last few months 
really was true.  Just as John had carried a piece of Kosh with him to 
Z'ha'dum, she would carry a piece of Marcus with her until the day she died.
	One final gift.
	As if she would ever . . . *could* ever . . . forget.
	Damned ancient technology.
	"Earth to Susan?"
	Shaking her head, she snapped herself out of it.  She looked down to 
find him stretched out on a blanket watching her, both eyebrows raised and a 
glass of wine in his outstretched hand.
	She had not even noticed they'd stopped walking.
	"Now you're worrying me," he said.  "You don't usually go away like 
that.  Here you've gone and done it twice now."
	She sank onto the blanket beside him, taking the glass.  He was 
right, the wine *was* getting warm.  "Sorry," she said.  "I guess I'm just 
not used to this yet."
	"This?" he asked.
	She took a sip from the glass, not quite certain how to respond.  She 
had long since grown accustomed to seeing him in her dreams.  It had even 
happened a few times during the Shadow War.  Things had changed since then, 
however.  Her dreams had changed.  Her life had changed.
	She looked up at the sky, searching the clouds for the right words.  
They were a long time coming.  "I've waited too long, Marcus."
	"For what?"
	"Home, happiness, you.  Hell, everything that ever mattered."
	"Well, you *were* rather preoccupied," he replied.
	"And now it's all gone."
	"Is it?" he asked.
	She pulled her eyes away from the soft cotton of the clouds to find 
him watching her intently.  There was no subtext in that stare, no question 
waiting to be asked, no confession to be made.  She could not recall ever 
seeing such a perfectly innocent expression on his features in all of the 
time she had known him.  "Are you *really* here?" she finally asked.  "I 
mean, this isn't *all* a dream?"
	He shrugged.  "Who knows?"
	Susan swallowed hard.  He was right.  She certainly could not answer 
that question for herself, how was she to expect what was probably a figment 
of her imagination to do it?  She would just have to wait for an answer on 
that one.
	Just what she needed, more waiting.
	The least she could do was pull part of her life out of its holding 
pattern, even if it was only in a dream.  She sat her empty wineglass aside.  
"Marcus?"
	"Yes?"
	"Who cares?  I mean, if some part of you is really here, wonderful.  
After everything that's happened, that's the best I could hope for.  If this 
is all just a dream, that's okay, too.  Hell, I've spent the last couple of 
years living in these dreams, what's a few more?"
	"Susan?" he asked.
	She almost smiled at the disbelief in his voice.  "No, Marcus. I'm 
sick of waiting.  I'm sick of losing the people I love.  And I'm *damned* 
tired of not being happy."
	"So, may I ask what you intend to do about it?"
	*That* brought a smile to her face.  "Something I should have done a 
long time ago," she said, pulling herself to her feet.  One hand reached out 
toward him.  "Come on.  You and I have a lot of catching up to do."

[End Part 7 of ?]

From: LtCmKieran@aol.com
Subject: Fan Fiction Submission - A Place to Call Home Part 8 of ?
Date: Tue, 29 Jun 1999 10:00:07 EDT

----------
Part 8 of  ?
A Place to Call Home
By Terri Osborne
LtCmKieran@aol.com
----------

Disclaimers:  All Babylon 5 characters, settings and related indicia are the 
property of JMS, Warner Brothers, and TNT.  No infringement of any copyrights 
intended.  As to the characters not seen on the television programme (Alina 
Minette, Andrew Keene, and others), they're mine.  If JMS should want them, 
however, I can 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]

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 Sarah and Sharon for helping get this baby rolling!

See part 1 for spoiler warnings
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>

----------

March 27, 2264

	"This morning's supply line raid was a complete success," Alina 
announced to the small group assembled at the conference table.   "According 
to our informant, it's going to take Syria Planum over a month to rebuild 
what they lost."
	"That's if they rebuild at all," Keene added.  "Knowing them, they 
might just expand an existing line."
	"Then we'll hit that one, too," Lyta stated.  "If Bester hadn't 
rebuilt Black Omega, we could do a lot more damage."
	Alina raised a dark eyebrow at the reference.  "Black Omega?"
	"Bester's pet starfury squadron," Garibaldi answered.  "They had a 
little run-in with us a few years back.  Susan's wing was the best.  No 
surprise it took him this long to rebuild it."
	"It took that long just to get replacement 'furies," Keene said.  
"Earthforce doesn't just hand those things out, you know."
	"Oh, we know," Garibaldi said.  "Just a damned shame they had to give 
him 'furies that had atmospheric capability.  Thing is, from what Ivanova 
said, they weren't based on Mars."
	"She's right.  There are only a few 'furies here.  Maybe six, tops."
	Alina turned to Keene, a wide smile on her face.  "Why don't we put 
them next on our hit list?"
	"You want to hit a starfury base?" he asked, stunned.  "Are you nuts?"
	"How many guards on the base?"
	Keene shook his head.  "You *are* nuts."
	Lyta leaned toward him.  "How many guards?"
	"It's smack in the middle of Syria Planum," he said, running a hand 
through his sandy hair.  "You'll have to get around the facility's security 
before you can even get to the 'fury base."
	Garibaldi and Lyta exchanged smiles.  "Piece of cake," he said.  
"Think the four of us should be able to pull it off?"
	Keene stared at the trio as if they'd all sprouted spare arms.  
"*Four* of us, against the whole of the Syria Planum facility?  Provided I 
bought into this scheme, how exactly did you plan on getting around the fact 
that we're at the top of the Corps' most wanted list?  They're definitely 
going to know what we look like."
	The smile faded slightly from Garibaldi's features.  "He's got a 
point.  I'm not exactly the war hero I was the last time we tried this.  Any 
ideas?"
	Alina looked around the table.  "Well, Lyta, Andrew and I could 
probably put up fairly good telepathic disguises.  Make them think we were 
someone else."
	"Telepathy doesn't work on securecam," Garibaldi observed.
	"Maybe for Andrew," Lyta said with an evil smile.  "But, what if the 
securecam system had a little . . . technical difficulty?"
	Garibaldi shook his head and widened his grin.  "You mean, along the 
lines of that camera on B5?"
	"What camera?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
	"You really think you can take out the whole system?"
	Lyta gave him a look that questioned his sanity.  "I've taken out far 
bigger things than a securecam system, Michael."
	"Speaking of which," he started.  "We need to talk later.  About our 
little deal."
	Her expression grew serious.  "Okay," she said with a nod.  "After we 
get through here?"
	"Good enough for me."
	"Let's get back to the subject," Keene interjected.  "Garibaldi's not 
a teep.  How do we get him in?"
	Lyta's eyes shot open.  "Grins," she whispered.  "Andrew, does the 
re-education facility there have the Grins?"
	An inspired smile spread across Keene's features.  "Oh, Lyta, you are 
a genius.  Just about everybody there should be too afraid to stop us."
	Alina turned to Garibaldi, puzzled.  "Grins?"
	Garibaldi, however, just shrugged.
	"Something from when I was a kid," Lyta explained.  "The Grins were 
always one of the Corps' little mysteries.  I heard a rumor once that they 
were teachers, but I don't think anyone ever knew who they *really* were.  
They always wore these masks that usually had these frightening smiles on 
them.  They only appeared for two reasons, either to give you presents, or to 
punish you."
	"Usually for punishment," Keene added.  "I only saw them once, and 
that was enough."
	"You're not kidding," Lyta said.
	"Then it should be enough to throw a scare into any telepath we run 
across?" Garibaldi asked.
	"It's a safe bet," Keene said.  "I know they'd scare the hell out of 
me.  The thing is, how do we get our hands on the masks?"
	Lyta pursed her lips.  "I've got a contact back in Geneva.  Michael, 
can you help us get a secured message to her?"
	Garibaldi nodded.  "I can have one of my couriers do it."
	"Speaking of secured messages," Alina said.  "Any word on those codes 
for Delenn?"
	"Yes," Garibaldi said, reaching into his jacket pocket.  He handed 
her a small, lavender data crystal.  "She sent me an encrypt program.  You 
rank your own code."
	"How goes the plan?" Lyta asked.
	"It doesn't," Alina answered.  "I need to see the research that was 
done on Minbar before I can even attempt to figure something out."
	"Well, good news," Garibaldi said.  "Delenn attached it to that 
program.  It's on that crystal."
	"All of it?"
	"Everything she could find.  She even got into the Warrior Caste data 
files."
	Alina looked down at the small crystal in her hand, suddenly far more 
respectful of its contents.  "All of this for one life."
	"The right people want him back," Lyta consoled. "Sometimes, that's 
all it takes."
	"You three aren't the only ones working on this," Garibaldi 
corrected.  "Delenn said she's got the best people on Minbar researching it 
right now.  When she told them who it was they were working for, apparently 
they were all too happy to oblige."
	Alina's eyes widened.  "Really?  If this works, he'll be happy to 
know he was finally a hero for something."
	"Being part of the galactic equivalent of Romeo and Juliet?" 
Garibaldi asked.
	"It's the stuff legends are made of, Mister Garibaldi," Alina said.  
"Now, back to the Syria Planum idea.  What do we look at for a timeline?"
	Lyta's eyes narrowed.  "If my connection comes through, we should be 
able to get the masks in a couple of weeks."
	"And if she doesn't?" Keene asked.
	"We go to Plan B.  Get them from Syria Planum itself."
	"But, we don't have any contacts there," Garibaldi reminded them.
	"I've got an idea about that," Lyta said.  "But I have to talk to 
Susan first."
	"Why do I have a feeling I know what you're thinking?"
	The redhead smiled.  "Because you've known me too long, Michael."
	"She won't go in there," he warned.
	"I think I can convince her."
	Garibaldi looked disgusted.  "This is Bester, Lyta.  He'll scan her 
as soon as she gets within his line of sight.  I'm not going to let Ivanova 
anywhere near here until you tell me for sure what you've got in mind."
	Lyta leaned forward.  "Okay.  We all know that Bester will scan her.  
That's a given."
	Keene nodded.  "Do we know if she can block a scan?"
	"She could block me when I was still a P5.  She may need help to 
block Bester, though."
	Garibaldi shook his head.  "How?"
	"Michael," Lyta began after a deep breath.  "I can use the same trick 
Bester pulled on you to help her."
	"She'll never let you do it."
	"I think she might.  You see, I know how badly she wants to see him 
suffer.  Beating him at his own game might be enough."
	Garibaldi shook his head.  "She wants him dead."
	"Her and half the planet," Keene remarked.  "No, killing him is too 
quick.  This way is better.  At least here we can test the blocks, see if 
they'll hold off a P12.
	"What if they don't?" Alina asked.  "I mean, she can naturally block 
a P5, but how do you reinforce blocks against a P12?"
	"The fact that she's a telepath will help," Lyta mused.
	Garibaldi's jaw dropped.  "Say *what*?  Hate to break it to you, 
Lyta, but she's just as normal as I am."
	The redhead simply shook her head.
	"How do you know?  Lyta, I've known her for years.  Sure, she hates 
the Corps, but she *is not* a telepath."
	"How would you know, Michael? It's easy to hide it from a normal," 
Lyta answered. "From what I can tell, she's still a latent, barely a P1, so 
she could probably just pick up on emotions and not thoughts, but that's 
enough for the Corps."
	"You didn't answer my question.  *How* do you know?"
	Lyta looked him straight in the eyes.  "You were there when we found 
the plant, Michael.  Why do you think Susan was so terrified of my scanning 
her?  Why do you think she was able to block me? To this day, I haven't met 
another normal who could block me like she did.  She used the same tricks 
another telepath would use.  I knew about her mother being a telepath, and 
her family always stayed one step ahead of the testing.  That was all of the 
convincing I needed.  She was my friend, too, Michael.  That's why I didn't 
tell anyone, either."
	Garibaldi looked as if he had just been stabbed in the back.  "You've 
got circumstantial evidence at best," he stated.  "Marcus had a thing for 
her.  If she was a telepath, why didn't she know about that?"
	"Maybe she chose to ignore it," Lyta answered.  "After all, we *were* 
in the middle of two wars.  She was second-in-command of the largest fleet 
ever assembled, not to mention she still had to run the station. Do you 
really think she had the *time* to deal with anything else?"
	Alina felt a grudging acceptance flowing from Garibaldi's mind.  If 
Lyta was right, which she did not doubt, then the sense of betrayal she had 
felt from him was perfectly logical.
	She had not known the man long, but Alina was sure that secrets were 
Michael Garibaldi's stock in trade. He seemed to have a real gift for covert 
operations, and a complete lack of use for the Psi Corps.  It was the perfect 
combination for someone in his position.
	She had picked up on his general mistrust of telepaths the second 
Lyta had introduced them, and it had taken her rescue of Kelly from the 
cave-in to gain Garibaldi's trust.  The idea that Ivanova had kept a secret 
like this from a person like him, well, Alina's respect for the mysterious 
Susan Ivanova only went up.
	"She was wise to hide," Alina said.
	"Gives you two something else in common besides a corpse," Garibaldi 
wisecracked.
	"Michael!" Lyta chastised.
	"Well, it's true!  First, if you believe Alina, they were both close 
to Marcus.  That *alone* makes me question her sanity.  Now they've both hid 
out from the Corps for twenty years?"
	"Fifteen," Alina corrected.
	Garibaldi coldly glared at her.  "Fifteen.  Doesn't matter.  Either 
way, you both lied about either who or what you are.  How am I supposed to 
trust either one of you?"
	Lyta opened her mouth to protest, but Alina stopped her with a hand.  
"*Mister* Garibaldi, first of all, save for the occasional Psi Cop I have 
encountered over the last two years, I have not lied to anyone about what I 
am.  You can ask Delenn next time you speak to her. Even the Rangers know.  
If she has chosen to tell no one about me, then that is her decision, for 
which I am grateful.  The fact that I *actively* chose to live outside of the 
Corps' reach is hardly something you can hold against me."
	"I know a lot of people who'd love to hear of a place outside of the 
reach of the almighty Psi Corps," he shot back.
	"Is Minbar a good place to start?" she spat, fighting desperately to 
control her anger.  "I give your friend credit, Mister Garibaldi.  I *envy* 
her, actually.  She was able to remain hidden among those she knew and loved."
	Realisation spread across Garibaldi's features.  "Wait a minute.  
Fifteen years ago?  The Minbari?  That was-"
	"The end of the Earth-Minbari War, yes."
	"You hid out with the enemy?" he asked, his voice barely making it 
above a whisper.
	"As opposed to becoming a puppet of the Corps?   You know as well as 
I the purpose the Shadows had for Psi Corps.  Besides," she said, turning her 
eyes to Lyta, "having us on opposite sides of the Shadow War would have been 
quite . . . well, let's just say that I don't want to think about what might 
have happened."
	From the look on Garibaldi's face, she surmised that he was doing 
enough thinking on that subject.  She could feel what little trust he had in 
her ebbing away.  His anger, however, was doing nothing of the sort.  "What 
about going back home?"
	"Arisia?  Sorry, the Shadows took care of it a long time ago."
	He shook his head slowly, the anger not abating at all.  Alina could 
tell he was simply venting his frustration and rage, which was the only 
reason she managed to control her own irritation.  Of course, the things she 
was hearing about this Susan Ivanova *were* rather enlightening.  She had not 
realised precisely how much they had in common until now.
	"Look," Lyta interrupted, "any personal problems we may have with 
each other have got to be put aside."  She pulled herself out of the chair, 
heading to a nearby console.  "Michael, I'm putting a message on this data 
crystal.  It needs to get to Cassandra Alexander in Geneva.  She's got an 
office in Teeptown."
	Michael simply glared icily at Alina.
	Lyta pulled the crystal out of the reader, handing it to Garibaldi.  
"You still okay with this, Michael?"
	"It'll get there, don't worry," he said through clenched teeth.  
Before another word could be spoken, he rose and nearly flew out of the room.
	"I guess the meeting's over," Lyta stated, seconds before following 
Garibaldi out the door.
	Alina sat silent, capable of nothing more than staring at the reports 
in her hand.
	"You okay?" Andrew asked.
	Alina's eyes raised to find him watching her closely.  "Yes."
	"Now, why don't I believe that?"
	Her only response was the absent shuffling of flimsies.
	"Look, for what it's worth, he's not always such a jerk."
	"I know," she said, pulling herself out of the chair.  "Lyta told me 
this story about how he bailed her out after she'd gone rogue the first time. 
 He doesn't hate all telepaths, Andrew, but she also said he's damned 
annoying when he's right."
	"What?"
	Her eyes remained locked on his through sheer force of will.  "Come 
on.  We need to talk."

----------

Lyta stalked out of the conference room, her prey remaining one step ahead as 
they made their way through the underground corridors.
	"I know it's a surprise, but that was *totally* uncalled for, 
Michael!"
	Garibaldi wheeled around with far more speed than she had thought him 
capable.  "Surprise?  Have you lost your *mind*?"
	"No," the telepath shot back.  "Have *you*?  Alina did *not* deserve 
what you gave her in there!  I don't care how mad you are at Susan, you are 
*not* taking it out on any of my people.  Got that?"
	"Lyta-"
	"Don't start, Michael," she calmly stated.  "I don't want to hear 
it."  The anger churned within her, stirring up things that were far better 
off left alone.  She felt the first brush of the Vorlon influence against her 
mind.  The anxiety, the rage, it all boiled just beneath her carefully 
controlled surface.  She was amazed that she had the capacity to keep it 
reigned in.
	"You don't want to hear it," he repeated, disgusted.  "Lyta, she's in 
there planning an assault.  Are you sure you want someone like her doing 
that?"
	She could not believe what she was hearing.  "Someone like *what* 
Michael?  A dirty coward of a teep?"
	"I never-"
	"Said that?  Doesn't matter.  She was a Ranger, and that gives her 
more practical military experience than anyone else in this unit.  Your 
personal biases are just that, yours.  They don't mean a damned thing down 
here."
	Garibaldi paced the corridor.  She could sense his temper boiling 
away just beneath the surface.  "If it weren't for Bester . . . ."
	"You wouldn't be here," she finished.  "Yes, I know.  Michael, look, 
I'm sorry you had to find out about Susan from me.  Really.  If it's any 
help, I understand.  She was one of the *few* people who still treated me 
like a human being after I started working for Kosh.  She still didn't trust 
me enough to tell me, and I could have helped her."
	The boil was easing down to a simmer.  "So, what do we do when Susan 
gets here?"
	"Leave that to me.  What did you need to talk to me about back there?"
	"Our little deal.  You've got your fighting force.  The bank accounts 
are just fine.  Hell, I even gave you guys a base.  Now, it's your turn."  
One finger tapped his right temple.  "When do these come out?"
	She watched him for a long time, thinking it over.  The fact that he 
was so adamant about it finally answered the question that had been nagging 
her since setting foot back on Mars.  He really hadn't found another 
telepath, unless Alina had already declined.
	Either way, he still needed her alive and well.  She was confident 
that she could trust him at her back when the time came to hit Syria Planum. 
Maybe they would get lucky and run into Bester during the raid.
	Maybe *then* she would take out the neural blocks.  Garibaldi's rage 
could definitely be useful.
	Her anger had subsided, receding into the same hold occupied by the 
last vestige of Vorlon power.  "When we get back from Syria Planum, Michael.  
I'll take them out then."
	"That could be months!"
	"Do I look like a committee?" she asked, red eyebrows raised.  
"They'll come out *after* the raid."
	His expression sank into one of disgust.  "What the hell?  I've lived 
with them this long.  Why *not* make sure I cover your ass in the hit?"
	Lyta patted his upper arm.  "Great minds think alike."
	She headed back to the camp, the weight of Garibaldi's cold stare on 
her back until she stepped out of sight.

[End Part 8 of ?]

From: LtCmKieran@aol.com
Subject: Fan Fiction Submission - A Place to Call Home Part 9 of ?
Date: Tue, 29 Jun 1999 10:00:11 EDT

----------
Part 9 of  ?
A Place to Call Home 
By Terri Osborne
LtCmKieran@aol.com
----------

Disclaimers:  All Babylon 5 characters, settings and related indicia are the 
property of JMS, Warner Brothers, and TNT.  No infringement of any copyrights 
intended.  As to the characters not seen on the television programme (Alina 
Minette, Andrew Keene, and others), they're mine.  If JMS should want them, 
however, I can 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]

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 Sarah and Sharon for helping get this baby rolling!

See part 1 for spoiler warnings
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
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----------

March 27, 2264

	Alina walked slowly into the secluded alcove that served as her 
sleeping quarters.  The space was small, with barely enough room for a bed 
and some storage space for her clothes, but it was enough for her few 
possessions.
	Two of them had to be hidden away, safe from prying eyes.  One was 
pinned to the inside of her vest where it could not be seen, yet she could 
still sense its familiar weight.  The small cylinder of the other rested in a 
pocket inside the vest that had once belonged to her father.  No matter what 
happened, she would rather die than lose that vest.
	She felt a small pang of guilt at having lied to Garibaldi.  Delenn 
had never really agreed to her resignation.
	Leave of absence, yes.
	Resignation, no.
	Two years was one hell of a sabbatical.  Maybe, when this was all 
over, she would go back to Tuzanor and the rest of her surrogate family, but 
not without Marcus.
	The thought brought her to the other two items, openly adorning the 
wall beside her bed.
	"Now, that's a combination," Andrew announced.  "A sword and ballet 
shoes?"  He reached toward the shoes, but stopped at the sound of her voice.
	"The shoes were my mother's.  The sword-"
	"Belonged to this Marcus?"  Andrew asked, turning until their eyes 
met.  When she nodded, he said, "It sounds like he was pretty important to 
you."
	Alina swallowed hard, trying to find the right words.  "Like a 
brother.  No.  Closer than that."
	"And then the Corps found you?" he gently asked.
	"Yes," she whispered.  "I was just sixteen.  The only family I'd ever 
known was my father and the Coles.  Then the Corps arrived.  Marcus saved my 
life, Andrew.  I owe him."
	"And you're going to pay him back.  Tell me, how did he do it?"
	The blue eyes she looked into were compassionate, understanding.  The 
touch at her cheek brought with it the idea that he wanted to hear her story, 
no matter how painful.  Alina tried to reign in her thoughts, block him out, 
but she could not manage even her normal blocks.  She was just too weak from 
everything that had happened.  She knew that without them he would pick up 
every idea that ran through her mind.  The pain of the memories felt as if 
she had been impaled upon that sword.
	"Alina?" Andrew prompted.
	"He got drafted," she whispered.  "It was toward the end of the 
Minbari War.  I threw a fit, told the Psi Cops that there was no way I was 
leaving before he shipped out for Earth.  I even told them I'd kill myself if 
they didn't let me stay that long."
	"So, they let you stay to say goodbye to him," Andrew said, allowing 
his hand to slip into hers. "How'd that make a difference?"
	"It changed what ship I left on.  The Corps didn't take the outer 
colony worlds seriously back then, so one of the Cops took their ship on to 
their next assignment.  I don't remember much about him, just the feeling of 
something dark buried under the surface. I did everything I could to get him 
to leave. The other one, she stayed to make sure I got on this shuttle that 
was going to a passenger liner headed for Mars.  I seem to remember her 
having this idea that she would mentor me once I was officially in the Corps."
	"What happened to the liner?"
	Her mind burned with the memory of the fireball.  "The last stop 
before Earth was near the Proxima jumpgate.  Twenty-four hours before we used 
the gate it was in Earth-controlled space.  The Minbari front moved."
	"You were attacked?"
	She shrugged, barely able to shake her head.  "I don't know.  All I 
know is that I felt something happening and ran for the lifepods.  The Psi 
Cop couldn't keep up.  I ended up being the only one who survived."
	"You're sure?"
	She nodded, the memory of the worst five days of her life replaying 
in her mind.  Five days of breathing increasingly stale air, eating emergency 
rations that barely passed for food, bumping into the inner hull of the 
lifepod as she tried to sleep in the zero gravity.  Five excruciating days of 
not knowing if she would live or die.  Tears welled within her eyes.
	Andrew stepped forward, gathering her into a comforting embrace.  She 
pressed her cheek against his shoulder, felt his hand begin to smooth her 
hair.  "It's okay.  What happened next?  Who found you?"
	"A Minbari freighter.  Worker caste.  They picked up a life sign in 
the debris field.  I got lucky.  Another three hours and I would have 
suffocated."
	"They gave you sanctuary?"
	She nodded against his shoulder.  "I was just sixteen, and terrified. 
 They had a telepath on board."
	"And since you couldn't tell him what happened, you showed him?"
	"Yes.  They told their superiors that I was a refugee, which was true 
in a way.  Going back to Arisia was just too dangerous.  Kalenn, the 
telepath, he said he'd train me."  She took a deep breath, willing her 
emotions into check.  "He didn't know what to do when he found out I was 
telekinetic, too.  Apparently they don't have a lot of telekinetics on 
Minbar, let alone people who are both.  So, he did the best he could."
	He eased back slowly, looking directly into her eyes. "I thought you 
said-"
	"The Vorlons?  There were very few Vorlons on Minbar back then.  I 
didn't even meet one until a few years before I joined the Rangers.  Like I 
said, Kalenn tried teaching me as much as he could.  When he couldn't do any 
more for me I ended up studying with other telepaths in the temples, taking 
the same classes they taught the other students."
	"Ouch," Andrew winced.  "This was right after the War?"
	She nodded.  "If Kalenn had been Warrior Caste, I'd be dead right 
now."
	"So, how did you get into the Rangers?"
	"A friend, actually.  Entil'zha Sinclair.  He thought the Rangers 
needed a doctor that didn't require modern medicine to do the job.  You see, 
once I started training to be a healer, word of what I was doing got around.  
Eventually, the Grey Council took an interest."
	"How long ago was this?" he asked.
	"About seven years ago.  They sent one of their own to study what I 
was doing."  The memory brought a smile to her face, the first in what felt 
like days.  "Rathenn.  Of course, I didn't know he was Satai at the time.  He 
was the one who pushed me toward working with the Vorlons. I was too much in 
awe to realize how much they were using me."
	"Using you?"
	She turned away quickly, fighting to hide her anger.  "There are 
times, not many, mind you, but there are times I look at Lyta and want to 
scream at her.  How?  How could she have been so stupid as to let them use 
her like that?"
	"I'm not following you."
	"What they did to her, I watched them do to dozens of Minbari 
telepaths, Andrew," she said, fists clenching at her sides.  "They were 
perfecting the process, developing their ultimate weapon against the Shadows."
	His jaw dropped.  "They let you watch?"
	"How do you think I learned to heal Minbari?"
	"And they didn't try to do it to you?"
	She shook her head.  "All they said about me was, `Beauty in the 
dark.'  My guess is they didn't think they could program me."
	"Program you?" he asked, confusion in his eyes.
	"What they did," she began, running a hand through her dark hair, "it 
was nauseating in a way.  I ran deep scans on all of their test subjects when 
the process was completed.  Not only were their abilities enhanced at least 
twice over, they were programmed. The programming was put in so deeply that 
not even I could get exactly what it was, but it had the Vorlons written all 
over it."
	"How do you know it was the Vorlons?"
	Her entire body ached at the memory.  "I actually managed to start a 
scan on one once," she said, wincing at her own stupidity. "It was the 
Ambassador to Minbar, Ulkesh. Spent three days in the hospital for my efforts 
after he threw me against a wall."
	"Three days?  For being thrown against a wall?"
	There was a trace of laughter in her voice as she said, "Minbari 
doctors.  They hadn't quite learned how to treat human patients yet."
	"But, did you make contact with Ulkesh?"
	"Enough to know a Vorlon telepathic signature when I run across one."
	Andrew began pacing the small room.  She could feel his thoughts 
racing.  "So, what happened to their test subjects?  I mean, were they in 
either one of the wars?"
	She shook her head.  "None of them lived that long.  It's as if, once 
the Vorlons were done with them, they became time bombs waiting to go off.  
And the bastards made sure I was there to clean up their messes."
	"Why you?  Why not one of the people they worked on?"
	She smiled at the irony.  "None of their precious creations ended up 
being mentally stable.  Some of them got control of their new abilities after 
a time, others never did.  They all eventually had breakdowns.  None of the 
Minbari telepaths was strong enough, and there wasn't a single altered 
telepath *stable* enough to handle the others when the breakdowns happened.  
So it fell to me.  The only way I was able to get out of the deal was thanks 
to Sinclair."
	His expression grew serious.  "We've got a problem.  What do we do 
about Lyta?"
	"Well, I talked to an old friend of hers when we stopped at Babylon 
Five.  From what he said, she was close to their first Vorlon Ambassador, 
Kosh.  She even worked as his aide.  That was unheard of among the Vorlons.  
It's entirely possible that it was Kosh that kept her higher abilities from 
developing too rapidly.  From what I can tell right now, she's stable, 
probably more stable than any of the other test subjects.  Kosh may have 
saved her life."
	"From what you can tell right now?"
	"I'd have to do a deep scan to find out more, but she'd sense that.  
She's strong enough to stop me."
	He stepped closer, wrapping his hand around hers.  "Will you do me a 
favor?"
	"Of course."
	"Keep an eye on her.  This hit on Syria Planum could be the biggest 
fight of this war.  If she really is like the others, I don't want to be in 
the same sector when she goes off."

[End Part 9 of ?]
From: LtCmKieran@aol.com
Subject: Fan Fiction Submission - A Place to Call Home Part 10 of ?
Date: Tue, 29 Jun 1999 10:00:15 EDT

----------
Part 10 of  ?
A Place to Call Home
By Terri Osborne
LtCmKieran@aol.com
----------

Disclaimers:  All Babylon 5 characters, settings and related indicia are the 
property of JMS, Warner Brothers, and TNT.  No infringement of any copyrights 
intended.  As to the characters not seen on the television programme (Alina 
Minette, Andrew Keene, and others), they're mine.  If JMS should want them, 
however, I can 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]

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 Sarah and Sharon for helping get this baby rolling!

See part 1 for spoiler warnings
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>

----------

March 29, 2264

	Susan pulled the blankets up to her chin, staring at the ceiling for 
what she was convinced would be the last time as the sleeping pill began to 
take effect.  Ten hours, quite possibly all the time she had left on the 
Valkyrie, and she would be damned if she were going into the next phase of 
this assignment on less than eight hours of sleep. 
	The next thing she knew, she was in a beautiful room with walnut 
brown walls.  Gold leaf decorated the wooden columns in each wall.  Sunlight 
shone brightly through the wide windows.  The tapestry-covered furniture and 
ornate wooden flooring brought it all back.  "Menshikov Palace."
	"Yes," came the reply.  She turned to find Marcus standing in the 
doorway.  As he stepped into a beam of sunlight, she noticed the wide smile 
on his features.  "Thought you might like someplace else familiar."
	She chuckled at that.  "First Kazan Cathedral, now here.  What are 
you trying to do, take a full-blown tour of Saint Petersburg?"
	"You did say you wanted to come back here after the War," he 
shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark trousers.  "I was 
curious.  Interesting place, this.  You know, there's a statue out by the 
main staircase-"
	"Marcus," she interrupted, "I'm sorry.  I'm just not up to this right 
now."  Her steps led her toward a corner, and the small seat beneath one 
window.  Its glass depicted the peaceful land surrounding the Palace.
	When had her dreams been so vivid?
	"What's wrong?" he asked, lowering himself into the windowseat in the 
adjoining wall.  "I've never seen you like this."
	Pulling her legs up beside her, she huddled in the small seat, making 
no response.  She had not yet grown accustomed to this version of the man she 
had known. He sat in the windowseat patiently, sunlight reflecting a bright 
white off of the simple shirt he wore.  His deep blue eyes sparkled in that 
same light.
	"Susan?"
	"I may have just thrown it all away, Marcus.  The Valkyrie, my life, 
all of it.  I just hope to God I can get through this one alive."  She looked 
into those eyes, fighting the thoughts they evoked.  "Have you ever had a 
secret that was so important you'd die to keep it?"
	His mouth twisted wryly.  "This is *me* you're talking to, remember?"
	"More important than love, Marcus.  I'm talking about the kind of 
secret you can't even tell yourself for fear someone around you is a telepath 
and might hear you thinking about it."
	Reaching out, he took her hand into both of his.  The warmth was a 
welcome sensation against her flesh.  "I don't think anyone will find out if 
you tell me.".
	"You do have a point," she said.
	He waited a few silent moments before prompting, "Well?"
	The echo of her mother's voice rang in her ears.
	Tell no one.
	Tell no one.
	"It's Lyta," she whispered, trying to find the right place to start.  
"She's started a full-blown war against the Psi Corps."
	"Earthforce hasn't gotten into the fray?"
	She shook her head.  "Not yet.  Right now, it's telepath against 
telepath."
	"Yet, you're involved," he said, his voice serious.  "How?"
	"They've assigned me to stop her."  Her anxiety began to turn into a 
familiar calm as she began explaining the situation.  On top of everything 
else, Marcus had been her only second-in-command.  After two years on her 
own, it was nice to have that familiar sounding board back, even if it was 
only in her dreams.  "I've tracked her down to a base on Mars.  She's working 
with Garibaldi somehow.  The only thing is, the official reports coming out 
of there say she's not commanding the movement anymore."
	He gave her a soft smile.  "You should know better than to believe 
official reports, Susan.  Who do they say is running things now?"
	Ignoring the scolding, she smiled widely.  She was going to enjoy his 
reaction to this.  "Does the name Alina Minette ring a bell?"
	He shook his head.
	"Well, how about Liana Stewart?"
	Surprise lit his eyes for a few seconds.  His jaw dropped slightly, 
before he pulled himself back together.  "Liana?  Impossible. She's been dead 
for at least fifteen years."
	"Not according to what I've seen," she replied.  "Those official 
reports you just told me not to believe, they had a sketch of the new 
resistance leader.  This Alina Minette bears an *uncanny* resemblance to a 
woman who just visited B5 a few weeks ago, a woman who was carrying Liana 
Stewart's identicard."
	Marcus sat back onto the windowseat, obviously stunned.
	"That's not all of it, Marcus.  I've got a meeting with them 
tomorrow."
	"That why you're leaving your ship?"
	She nodded.  "Yes.  I've managed to talk Major Ryan into believing 
that since Lyta and I are old friends it might be good for me to work from 
the inside."
	"You're joining up?" he asked, his expression suggesting she had 
grown a third arm.
	"Yes."
	"But, you just said it's telepath against tele-."  He broke off, 
realizing what was happening.  "That's the secret, isn't it?  You're a 
telepath."
	"Latent," she breathed, praying to God that he would understand.
	He stood, beginning to slowly pace the room.  "Liana.  In Valen's 
name.  Susan, if she's alive . . ."
	"Why do I get the feeling there's something *you're* not telling 
*me*?"
	"Well, I'm telling you now," he said.  "Susan, if she's alive, be 
careful.  I've known her since she was five years old.  She can be *very* 
dangerous, maybe even more dangerous than you.  She almost killed me once 
without even really trying."
	"What?  How?" she asked, not quite certain she wanted to hear the 
answer.
	"When I was fifteen, she actually taught me how to use a sword.  She 
was born back on Earth, in London.  She started studying her heritage and 
found out that one of her ancestors was a lord back in medieval England.  She 
became fascinated with anything that had to do with that era.  One of the 
metal workers on the colony did her a favor and made her a sword for her 
thirteenth birthday.  She begged him to make me one, said she needed a 
sparring partner."
	"What about your brother?"
	He shook his head.  "Will was too young.  He couldn't have lifted the 
thing.  So she taught me how to use it.  We were sparring one day and she got 
me through the side.  I was in the hospital for a week while it healed.  Ribs 
were the only things keeping her from getting my lung.  If she's anything 
like the girl I knew, she's a fighter, Susan.  And a damned good one.  I'd 
certainly rather go into a fight with her than some of the other Rangers I 
knew."  He softly laughed.  "Neroon wouldn't stand a chance."
	One nagging fact came into her mind.  "Psi Corps doesn't have an 
Alina Minette on record.  Should they be looking for Liana?"
	"They won't find her, either."
	"So, she *is* a normal?"
	A soft, nervous laugh escaped him.  "Normal?  As in not a telepath?  
Love, you couldn't be more wrong.  I suppose it's only fitting that she's 
teamed up with Lyta.  Lyta's the only telepath I've ever seen who was on 
Liana's level."
	Susan's stomach sank.  "What?  What do you mean on Liana's level?"
	"Just that," he replied.  "The Psi Corps finally found her when she 
was sixteen.  When they tested her, she tested right off of both the 
telepathic *and* telekinetic scales."
	"She's *both*?"
	He nodded.  "And she has been since the age of five.  That's what 
makes her so dangerous.  She had her entire childhood to learn how to use her 
gifts, even refine her skills.  She's a wonderful girl, Susan.  Dangerous, 
but utterly reliable.  I'd trust her with my life."
	"But, the Corps never got a hold of her?"
	"I don't think so.  You see, the ship she was on exploded on its way 
back to Earth.  I was told there were no survivors."
	Susan shook her head, still assimilating the information.  "I suppose 
the real question here is where's she been all these years?"
	"I'd certainly love to hear the answer to that," he said, rising from 
the windowseat.  Two short steps took him to a small chest of drawers.  He 
stared at the rich wooden surface for what felt like an eternity.  "Susan?"
	"Yes?" she asked, knowing what was coming, yet praying she was wrong.
	"You could have told me before."  His voice held none of the hurt she 
saw in his gaze.  "Of course, I seem to remember believing that we were 
closer friends.  Maybe I was-"
	"Wrong?" she finished, following him away from the windows.  Her palm 
wrapped around his shoulder, "No, you were right.  I should have told you.  I 
shouldn't have been *afraid* to tell you."
	"Afraid?  Of what?"
	She shrugged helplessly.  "I don't know, Marcus.  You went to Mars 
with Stephen.  What if you'd been captured?  The nightmares I had when they 
got John were bad enough."
	"*Sheridan* knows?"
	The betrayal in his voice made her wince.  "Out of necessity," she 
said, valiantly attempting to apologise.  "I only told him because I didn't 
have any other choice."
	He turned on her, wounded.  Irritation was rapidly rising in his 
eyes.  "What about now? Do you have a choice?"
	"No, Marcus.  I mean-.  God, you're not going to let this go, are 
you?"
	She had seen him angry in life, but never had that anger been 
directed at her.  She tried to back away, but he stepped closer, until he was 
within arm's reach.
"I'll tell you what.  You answer a few questions for me, and I'll think about 
it."
	"Why?"
	One hand reached toward her, a finger tapping her over the ear.  
"Since we're going to be stuck here together for a while, best get it all out 
in the open, right?" 
	Her heart leapt into her throat, and all she could manage was a nod.
	"First question.  How strong are your abilities?"
	She swallowed hard.  "I've never been tested, but I think I'm a P1, 
tops."
	"And that means you can . . . ?"
	"If anyone tries to scan me, I'll know it," she replied, her stomach 
clenched tight.
	His eyes darkened dangerously.  "That *can't* be all, can it?"
	He knew she was keeping something from him, she could hear it in his 
voice.  Closing her eyes, she shook her head.  "I can pick up emotions."
	"Emotions?"
	"Sometimes.  Before you ask, I only had an *idea* of how you felt."
	One dark eyebrow raised.  "An idea?  Was something -- hampering -- 
your abilities?"
	"You weren't joking when you said get it all out in the open, were 
you?" she asked, inwardly cursing.
	There was a thin smile on his lips as he stared into her eyes.  "Not 
this time.  Answer the question, Susan.  Was there anything hampering your 
abilities?"
	Well, if he wanted a challenge, he was going to get one.  She looked 
him straight in the eyes and lied.  "No."
	"No?  Are you *sure*?"
	"Positive.  Second question?"
	She could sense that he wanted to pursue the subject, and the wicked 
gleam that lit his eyes suggested he had found the perfect route.
	"All right," he began, squaring his shoulders.  "Second question.  
What, if anything, could interfere with your abilities?"
	Her lips thinned.  "How in the hell am I supposed to know?"
	"Let me see . . . oh . . . *years* of practical experience?"
	Susan groaned.  "If you were still alive-"
	"You'd be dead, and with my luck, we'd *still* be having this 
conversation!"
	"Thought you didn't believe in luck?" she countered.
	"You have that effect on people."
	They glared across the small space that separated them, each daring 
the other to break first.
	She knew what he wanted to hear, knew it might even have been the 
truth.  It *had* happened to her before, the last time she had allowed 
herself the luxury of caring.
	She had picked up something during the few nights Talia Winters had 
spent in her quarters.  There had been something different, something almost 
alien, behind the telepath's blue eyes.  The touch of her skin had brought 
images into Susan's mind, images that were far darker in nature than she had 
been able to comprehend.  Images that she now understood with blinding 
clarity.
	Shadows.
	Her own emotions had kept her from seeing danger as it stood before 
her.  The idea that those very same emotions had kept her from recognising 
sanctuary as well was not that far-fetched.
	"All right," she relented, "maybe there was something in the way."
	His smile widened in triumph.  "Thought so."
	"Don't get too smug about it," she said, eyes narrowed.  "You're not 
the first person that's had that effect."
	"Pardon me if I was hoping to be the last," he shot back.
	She held up a hand toward him.  "You know, I still think that's your 
biggest problem."
	"Problem?" he asked.  "What the hell are you talking about?"
	"The fact that you're such a pathetically hopeless romantic. *Who* 
was it left the roses at my door?  Hmm?"
	Anger drained from his features.  "Roses?  Hate to break it to you, 
love, but I *never* left any roses at your door.  I seem to remember *you* 
giving them to *me*."
	Susan blanched.  "What?  You mean . . . I didn't . . . *you* didn't?"
	"Susan Ivanova, speechless!  I never thought I'd live to see the 
day!"  Catching himself, he added, "Wait a minute, no, I didn't, did I?  
Well, all the same."
	Susan, however, was still reeling.  "So, how did they get there?"
	One dark eyebrow raised.  "Secret admirer, perhaps?"
	"I *still* would have thought that was you."
	Those bottomless blue eyes found hers, making it a struggle to keep 
from getting lost.  The emotions that touched her mind softened, the rage 
flowing away like the tide.  "Really?" he asked, his voice telling her how 
much he wanted the words to be true.
	"As if anyone else on that station had the hots for me.  Now, are you 
finished with the questions?"
	Folding his arms over his chest, he began to pace.  "Not quite yet."
	There was a tinge of sarcasm in her voice as she said, "Great.  Just 
great.  *Of course* I'm going to fall for a man that's just as stubborn as I 
am!"
	That earned her a soft smile.  "Thank you."
	"For what?"
	"Clearing something up for me," he said, his steps coming to a halt.  
"I think that also gives me the last question."
	She was beginning to get a very bad feeling.  "That would be?"
	"How long did I, well, bloody hell.  Give me another minute."
	She felt him reaching for the right words, but failing.  Still, she 
was able to get the direction of his search.  Her steps brought her to his 
side.  "Just as long, I think," she mused, her fingers wrapping around his 
shoulder.  "I just wish I'd had the guts to admit it before it was too late.  
That answer your question?"
	The gaze that met hers was as soft as a caress.  "Yes," he whispered.
	"Marcus?"
	"Yes?"
Her fingers slowly curled into his dark hair.  "*Is* it too late?"
	"Don't know," he shrugged.
	Mustering all of her courage, she gently drew his face to hers.  
Closing her eyes, she made a soft confession against his lips.  "I love you, 
too."
	Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest as, at the precise 
instant their lips met, the thunderous chiming of a grandfather clock sounded 
from somewhere in the palace.  Her body whirled to face the doorway.
	Her eyes, however, were met with a different sight.
	The room that surrounded her was dark, cold . . . and empty.
	"Damn it!"
	Her link chimed.  Reaching to the shelf beside the bed, she fought 
the urge to throw the small device across the room.
	"Ivanova, go."
	"We're thirty minutes out from the jump point, Captain," O'Connell's 
voice spoke from the small speaker.  "You asked to be notified."
	Susan dragged herself out of the bed, realising that killing her 
second-in-command for following orders might not look good in her record.  "I 
did, didn't I?  All right.  Thank you, Mister O'Connell.  Ivanova out."
	Trudging to her closet, she pulled out the only uniform she had not 
packed the night before.  Years of practice had her hair pulled into a tight 
braid in a matter of seconds.
	"Well," she told her reflection in the bathroom mirror.  "There's 
always tomorrow night."

[End Part 10]

From: LtCmKieran@aol.com
Subject: Fan Fiction Submission - A Place to Call Home Part 11
Date: Tue, 29 Jun 1999 10:00:22 EDT

----------
A Place to Call Home
Part 11 of ?
Terri Osborne
LtCmKieran@aol.com
----------

Disclaimers in parts 1-10.

My thanks to Sharon and Sarah as always!

----------

March 29, 2264

	Lyta stared through the multiple panes of glass at the main dome of 
Mars Colony.  Over a kilometre away and her skin still crawled from the 
proximity.  Even Centauri Prime would not have been far enough away from him.
	Alfred Bester had that effect on people.
	The expression that had been on the little man's face all those years 
ago was burned into her mind forever.  A serial murderer, the lowest form of 
life known to humanity.  Death would have been preferable to the fate Alfred 
Bester had doled out.  She could still see the poor soul trying desperately 
to claw out his own eyes.  Anything to be rid of the terrors that Bester had 
implanted deep inside the man's brain.
	One Psi Cop had played judge, jury and executioner for a crime 
against 'his telepaths.'
	She had stood silent, allowing the perversion of justice to happen.
	If it were the last thing she did, Lyta would make certain Bester 
paid for his crimes.
	Forcing thoughts of revenge into the back of her mind, she turned 
away from the window and back to the luxurious rooms that Garibaldi called 
home.  The sheer amount of space the home occupied spoke volumes about the 
building's original owner, the late William Edgars.  Money had been no object 
for the corporate magnate, which was obvious in the simple luxury of real 
oranges which still occupied the occasional fruit bowl around the house.  
Lyta knew how much it had cost to get perishables shipped to Babylon Five.  
It took someone of means to get little luxuries like that.  William Edgars 
had been that kind of person.
	Now, the same could be said for Michael Garibaldi.
	Marrying a rich widow had a way of doing that to a man.
	Alina and Andrew sat side-by-side on the long sofa, each with a 
report in hand. She smiled softly at the sight.  They had barely known each 
other a month, yet they worked perfectly together.
	Of course, the mutual attraction she had sensed since their first 
meeting had *absolutely* nothing to do with it.  It reminded her of two other 
people she had known not so long ago.
	Lyta silently prayed to deities both Vorlon and human that these two 
did not share the same fate.
	Lowering herself into an overstuffed chair, Lyta picked up a report 
and began perusing its contents.  It was a listing of Psi Cop assignments 
dated only a week previous.  She was not certain from where Garibaldi's 
sources came, but she was suddenly more thankful for them.
	If those same sources could only have obtained Cassandra Alexander's 
cooperation.  Twenty-two years old, and her niece was still causing her 
trouble.  Lyta Alexander was now forced to attempt the impossible, get Susan 
Ivanova to go along with what had to be the most audacious plan since the 
retaking of Earth.
	Sadness crept into Lyta's mind.  A profound sadness that she could 
not quite place, until she saw Alina wipe a hand across her eyes.  Andrew 
reached across, taking Alina's free hand.
	"Alina?" he asked.  "What is it?"
	Her green eyes raised to the doorway, and a longing smile appeared on 
her delicate features.  She shook Andrew's hand off as she stood.  "Marcus," 
she whispered, wiping away another tear.
	Andrew's eyes lowered to Lyta questioningly.  All she could do was 
shrug.
	"What are you picking up?" Lyta asked.
	Alina's breathing became laboured, and Lyta could sense that the 
woman was fighting to stay in control.  "Him," she stated.  "I haven't felt 
it for years, but it's him."
	Andrew pulled himself up, his expression matching the concern Lyta 
felt.  "How?"
	"I don't know," Alina said.  "But I'd know his telepathic signature 
anywhere."
	"Telepathic signatures can't be faked," Lyta said.  "Not even Bester 
could do that."
	"Then how-?"
	"Ladies and gentlemen," Garibaldi interrupted, pushing open the door 
to the room.  "I believe our last guest has arrived."
	The familiar face of Susan Ivanova strode through the doorway.  
Garibaldi stepped outside, closing the door.  Lyta smiled widely at the sight 
of her old friend, but could not help the thought of what Alina had sensed. 
There *was* something different about Ivanova, something other than the 
Earthforce blues she wore.  She appeared tired, more haggard.  No amount of 
makeup could hide the dark circles etched under her blue eyes.  Her chocolate 
brown hair was pulled back into a braid that looked tight enough to give 
someone a headache.  Susan stood stock-still, a military precision that Lyta 
knew was old habit, nothing more.  She was convinced that Susan had even lost 
weight.  She could not help but be concerned by the vision that stood before 
her, yet Lyta made every effort to hide her thoughts.
	Lyta attempted to speak, but stopped when she saw the look in Susan's 
eyes.  Her old friend had locked gazes with Alina, and neither showed any 
sign of relenting.
	"You must be Ivanova," Alina warily said.
	Susan squared her shoulders.  "Miss Minette.  Or, should I say 
Stewart?"
	Alina's eyes lowered.  "She's dead," Alina stated.  "Fifteen-"
	"Fifteen years ago," Susan finished, stepping across the room to 
where Alina stood.  "Thanks, but I don't need the history lesson.  I know all 
about you.  Do they?"
	Lyta put a hand to Alina's arm.  "We know all we need to know.  
That's enough.  But, how did you find out?"
	"Mutual friend," she replied.  "He thought you were dead."
	"He was right.  It's a shame I can't tell him that personally." Alina 
looked up, directly into Susan's eyes.  "Or can I?"
	It was Susan's turn to look surprised.  "He's dead.  You know that."
	Lyta knew the second she heard the tone of Susan's voice that the 
woman did not believe any of what she was saying.  Her mouth opened, and 
closed again before words escaped.  They had all suspected that Susan knew 
that Marcus was alive, but what Lyta heard in Susan Ivanova's voice suggested 
more.  The fact that Alina had sensed Marcus's presence right before Susan 
walked into the room was significant.  The question was, how?  Something 
beyond Marcus's apparent death had happened that night in Medlab.  The real 
trick was figuring out what, and the only clue she had stood right before 
her, arguing with her second-in-command.
	"Is he?" Alina countered.  "How sure are *you* that he's dead?"
	"Ladies," Andrew interceded.  "Can we please sit down and discuss 
this like rational human beings?"
	Alina crossed her arms over her chest, still staring into Susan's 
eyes.  "I want an answer.  It was your order that stuck him in that tube, 
*Captain*.  What's he doing in there if he's dead?  Why waste the station's 
resources?"
	"I don't have to explain myself to you," Susan said.  "I'm starting 
to wonder why I even came down here."
	Lyta stepped forward, putting herself between the two women.  "Susan, 
Alina, Andrew's right. We need to sit down and talk.  Personal business can 
wait until later.  Now, can we please call a cease-fire?"
	"I didn't shoot first," Alina stated.  "I think you should ask her."
	One copper eyebrow raised.  "Susan?  Seems to me like you two should 
try to get along, for Marcus at least."
	Susan stared hard at Alina, then visibly relaxed. "All right."
	Alina nodded, allowing Andrew to pull her back down to the sofa.  
"Now," she said.  "You called this meeting, Captain.  What is it you need?"
	Susan's eyes came to rest on Lyta.  "I'm joining up."
	Lyta's jaw dropped. "You're *what*?"
	"I'm joining you."
	"Well, *that* certainly makes things easier," Andrew commented.
	"Makes what easier?" Susan asked.
	Alina looked over at Andrew, then raised her eyes to Susan.  "We were 
about to ask for your help.  Lyta told me-."
	"I told her about your history with Bester and the Corps," Lyta 
interrupted.  "We need somebody with your skills, Susan.  Desperately."
	Susan settled into a large white chair.  "My skills?"
	"Well, your skills and your connections," Lyta admitted with a 
sheepish smile.  "You're the only person I can think of that could pull off 
this job."
	"What's the job?"
	"Infiltration," Alina stated.  "We need a person to work on the 
inside."
	"Inside Psi Corps?" Susan asked, disgust in her voice.  "Not on your 
life."
	"It won't be for long," Lyta consoled.  "Maybe a month."
	Susan's jaw dropped.  "A month!  Lyta, do you have any idea what 
Bester could do to me in a month?"
	Lyta leaned back in her chair.  "Yes, I do," she replied.  "I've seen 
the kind of damage he can do in an *hour*. I can protect you, but I don't 
think you're going to like how."
	Susan visibly tensed.  "How?"
	"Blocks.  You can block a P5 easily on your own, but to beat someone 
like Bester you'll need reinforcements."
	"And exactly how do you plan on setting that up?"
	Lyta pursed her lips, debating whether to tell Susan what she knew.  
"Training, mostly.  I can help you at a distance, too, that way if he catches 
you-"
	"No way," Susan stated.  "Nobody's getting into my head, and I am 
*not* going anywhere near the Corps.  Find another guinea pig for your 
mission."
	"We're fighting the Corps, *Captain*.  What precisely do you plan on 
doing, sitting on your ass in the barracks with the rest of the children 
until the war's over?" Alina asked, disgust in her voice.
	Lyta's eyes shot open.  "Alina, you don't-"
	"No, Lyta," the small woman interrupted.  "The woman who claimed to 
be the right hand of God comes down from her steel pedestal to join us.  We 
give her a mission right up her alley and *then* she tells us she doesn't 
want to go anywhere near the enemy?  Who did you think we were fighting, 
Captain, Santa Claus?"
	Susan's jaw tightened.  "I know precisely who you're fighting."
	Alina gathered the paperwork that she had been reading, slipped it 
into a folder, and rose from the sofa.  "Then I suggest you think long and 
hard on whether you *truly* want to be here.  Like it or not, you *will* 
engage the enemy at some point.  That is one risk that cannot be avoided by 
anyone working with us.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a mission to 
plan, with or without your assistance."
	Turning on her heel, the small brunette strode to the doorway.  
Within seconds, she was gone.
	<*Andrew?*> Lyta asked.
	He shrugged.  <*Not a clue.  I'll go talk to her.*>
	When they were alone, Susan burst out of her chair.  "You let *that* 
take over?  What the hell were you thinking, Lyta?"
	She chose to ignore the insult.  "I could ask you the same question.  
I refuse to believe you didn't know what was going on down here, Susan.  
You're too good for that.  You said you were here to join us, why do I have a 
feeling that's not the truth?"
	Susan took a deep breath.  Lyta could feel that something serious was 
happening to her old friend.  The person she had known would not have made 
such a scene with Alina, at least, not on their first meeting.  When Susan 
had said things were different, she had not been lying.  If the visual clues 
had not been enough, the thoughts Susan Ivanova was broadcasting to anyone 
who could listen would have been just as convincing.
	She picked up on Susan's worry about her ship, her crew, her career, 
and whether or not she was throwing everything away.  For some reason, she 
was also concerned that Lyta might find out something, but what that 
information was remained a mystery.  Last, but certainly not least, Susan was 
also worried about Marcus.
	That was the thought that piqued Lyta's curiosity.  "Susan?" she 
prompted.
	"It's the truth," Susan said, slowly shaking her head.  "I don't 
know.  Just when I thought I was okay with what happened-"
	"Alina shows up to remind you?"
	Susan nodded.  "It's not just her, though.  There's been some strange 
things going on lately."
	Lyta smiled.  "Well, if you're going to join us, it's just going to 
get stranger.  I can tell you that from experience."
	"Stranger?" Susan asked, a pained expression on her features.  "It 
can't get stranger."
	A hand fell on Susan's arm.  "You've never bunked down with three 
hundred telepaths before, have you?"
	"No."
	"Well, prepare yourself for some *interesting* dreams at night."
	Susan flinched, her surface thoughts turning to Marcus.  "Couldn't 
get any more interesting than the ones I've been having," she stated.
	Lyta stepped back from her old friend, turning and slowly walking 
toward the window.  She had never seen Susan this deeply affected by anything 
in the years they had known each other.  Not even during the time they had 
thought Sheridan lost at Z'ha'dum had Susan acted this unusually.  The 
normally tightly composed woman's moods were changing with the ebb and flow 
of a tide.  The Susan she had known would have thrown herself into her work 
after Marcus's apparent death, which Lyta knew was precisely what she had 
attempted to do in taking over the Valkyrie.  Something was different.  
Something about Marcus's actions had changed Susan Ivanova, and changed her 
down to her very soul.
	If Garibaldi was right, and Marcus's actions had been taken out of 
love, that would have explained a lot of what she was seeing.
	Lyta had only really spoken with the Ranger once, but she had 
inherently liked the man. There had been something innately appealing about 
his devil-may-care personality.  Yet, when she had spoken with him, she felt 
the sincerity and genuinely kind soul behind the easygoing exterior.  Like 
Susan and Delenn, he had treated her almost as if he did not realise what she 
was.  He had always spoken to her as if she were still a human being.
	All points considered, that meant more to Lyta Alexander than the 
world.
	She had picked up on his concern for Susan even then, as they were 
speeding toward a date with destiny at Coriana Six.  They had been going into 
the final battle of the Shadow War, and Marcus's all-consuming thoughts had 
been of Susan.  When he persuaded that young Ranger into allowing him to 
pilot the shuttle over to the White Star that Susan was commanding, Lyta had 
not been able to keep the smile in check.  She had not had to read Marcus's 
thoughts to know what he was doing.  If it was going to be his time to die, 
he wanted it to be at Susan Ivanova's side.
	His wish had apparently been granted a few months too late.
	The tragedy of it all brought a tear to Lyta's eye.
	It reminded her too much of Byron.
	"Susan," Lyta finally spoke.  "If you want to stay with us and take 
on the Corps, you're welcome to.  We could use another person with a military 
background. Alina's been having to plan this raid on Syria Planum by herself. 
 Since you would be involved, I think you should be in on the planning, too."
	"But, you're worried," Susan added.
	"Yes," Lyta admitted.  "Are you sure you're ready for this?  I mean, 
what about Earthforce?  What about your ship?  I know how much you wanted 
that."
	Susan hesitated, and Lyta felt her trying to hide her surface 
thoughts.  Still, Lyta's strength allowed her to pick up pieces.  There was 
something about a Major Ryan, and something about playing both ends against 
the middle.  Lyta knew that phrase, and the alarm bells began going off in 
her own mind.  The Susan Ivanova she had known was utterly trustworthy.  That 
much had been true before Susan had ever met Marcus.  What was going on?
	"Susan, what are you not telling me?" she asked, fighting to keep the 
accusation out of her voice.
	Ivanova groaned.  "You're just as bad as Marcus."
	She did not allow the non sequitur to throw her from her course.  
"Susan Ivanova, you are not getting anywhere near my people until you tell me 
what's really going on here.  And I want the truth this time."
	"If you're scanning me-" Ivanova warned.
	"You'd know it," Lyta countered.  "Your surface thoughts are coming 
through like ISN on a good day.  If I can't trust you, I won't let you 
anywhere near the camp, do you understand?"
	Susan nodded, hesitating for only a moment. Lyta felt the weight of a 
monumental decision being made.  "What Earthforce thinks is the truth isn't, 
and it never will be.  I want to see the Corps gone just as much as you do.  
I owe that to my mother.  I'm on *your* side, Lyta.  You can trust me."
	Lyta assessed the information Susan was trying to give, curious as to 
what Ivanova had told Earthforce.  If she was still in *their* good graces, 
they could easily use that to get her into Syria Planum.  Susan's surface 
thoughts suggested that her own words were the complete truth.
	Lyta smiled.  Life was getting a little too easy.
	"All right," she stated.  "If you're sure you can handle being around 
so many telepaths, you're welcome to join us.  Just promise me you'll think 
about the mission we proposed?"
	Susan Ivanova stoically met Lyta's gaze, and nodded.  "I'll think 
about it."

[End Part 11]

From: LtCmKieran@aol.com
Subject: REPOST - A Place to Call Home - Part 12
Date: Tue, 29 Jun 1999 17:29:30 EDT

My apologies.  Part 12 should not have been labelled BETA.

Terri


----------
Part 12 of  ?
A Place to Call Home
By Terri Osborne
LtCmKieran@aol.com
----------

Disclaimers in prior parts.

Content Warning:  [AC] [AL]

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 Sarah and Sharon for helping get this baby rolling!

See part 1 for spoiler warnings
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----------
March 30, 2264

	"It'll never work," Susan muttered as she walked the corridors of the 
underground base.  "Never."
	It was ludicrous, really.  The idea of *her* working inside the 
Corps?  Willingly working around Bester?
	No, it was worse than ludicrous.  The precise word escaped her, but 
she did know that whatever it was, it certainly described that plan.
	And the idea of having someone poking around in her head, well, that 
was even more insane.  What if they found-?
	"What's so absurd about the mission?"
	Susan clenched her teeth at the sound of Alina Minette's voice.  Why 
was this woman baiting her at every turn?  For that matter, how had Marcus 
ever befriended a woman so unbelieveably annoying?
	Resisting her urge to leave the area, Susan found Alina standing in 
an adjoining chamber, sweat matting the small woman's black hair as if she 
had just finished exercising.  She walked up just in time to catch a 
painfully familiar vision, the sight of a fighting pike collapsing into 
itself.  Joy bloomed like fireworks in the back of her mind, overwhelming her 
anger.  The sight had managed to reach Marcus.
	"You're with the Rangers?" Susan asked.
	Alina wiped a hand across her brow.  "Yes and no."
	"And you've also been around the Vorlons," she quipped, only to be 
surprised by the look of distaste that appeared on Alina's delicate features.
	"Too much, I'm afraid."
	"What?  How?  I mean, Lyta-"
	"Lyta saw what they wanted her to see."
	Susan shook her head.  "I don't get it.  I mean, I thought they 
always did that.  What was different with you?"
	"I saw them for the monsters they really were," she replied.  The 
sight of the petite woman reaching for what looked like an antique sword gave 
Susan a moment's pause.  Alina, however, continued unabated.  "A little 
lesson I was always trying to teach our mutual friend. Pretense is, for the 
most part, a waste of time.  To be honest with you, they were the first race 
I couldn't scan on sight."
	"So you found other ways around the problem," Susan said.  "That 
proves it, you *did* grow up with him, didn't you?"
	Alina smiled for the first time since they had met.  "Eleven glorious 
years."
	"Eleven years?"
	Alina nodded.  "And I'd be more than happy to tell you what you want 
to know, Susan."
	She balked at the familiarity of her own name, especially in such a 
painfully similar accent, but it was brief.  "Thank you, Miss-"
	"Alina," she quickly finished.  With a conspiratorial smile that 
reached all the way to her emerald green eyes, she added, "Liana's on my 
identicard, but that's only to drive Psi Corps bonkers."
	Susan raised an eyebrow.  "Does it work?"
	Alina shrugged.  "Andrew told me that he was the office equivalent of 
this Bester everyone has been talking about.  Desk job, really, but he used 
to coordinate the Psi Cops that were out searching for rogues.  For a while, 
I was one of those rogues.  They stopped looking for me about ten years ago 
and declared me dead. Apparently, every time I use the identicard it gets 
reported to the Psi Cops.  I've only used the thing maybe a dozen times in 
the last three years, but from what Andrew tells me it throws the Cops into a 
fit.  So, yes, I suppose it works."
	The smile that spread across Alina's features was easy to return.  "I 
can just bet."
	A silence began to stretch between them, growing into awkward 
proportions, until finally Alina said, "Catch."
	Before Susan realised precisely what Alina was referring to, the 
woman's collapsed pike was flying through the air.  Susan caught the cylinder 
in one hand, inspecting the tiniest detail of the Minbari design.  The things 
had fascinated her from the first instant she had seen one used.  To hold one 
in her hand seemed familiar, somehow.  It felt as if she were holding an 
artifact from the past, yet not hers.
	"I'll make you a deal, Captain Susan Ivanova," Alina said, cutting 
into her thoughts.
	All of Susan's alarm bells went off.  "What kind of deal?"
	Alina lifted the sword before her, and Susan realised that the only 
thing that had been antique about it was the sheath.  A whisper of leather 
against metal reached her ears as Alina drew the sword.  The most unusual 
jewels Susan had ever seen were set into the hilt.  The texture of the blade 
looked almost like the skin of a White Star.  "You are a leader, Captain, not 
a follower.  That much I remember from going into battle with you.  We need 
your leadership and your strength here, yet you cannot lead us.  Not on your 
own, and certainly not in the public's eye.  Too much is at stake to allow 
pride to get in the way.  I suggest we do away with the inevitable power 
struggle right now.  My deal comes from an old tradition, really.  If you can 
best me in a fight, then you will become our third.  Your word will carry the 
same weight as mine or Lyta's.  You will have a part in everything that goes 
on down here, and you will lead the charge once again."
	Susan moistened her lips, Marcus's warnings replaying in her mind.  
"And if I lose?"
	"You go along with the Syria Planum mission, no questions asked.  
Lyta and I continue to command this unit by ourselves."
	The weight of the collapsed pike in her hand was almost comforting as 
Susan contemplated the options.  Truth be told, she simply was not that 
familiar with using a pike in hand-to-hand combat.  Her self-defense training 
had never covered using such a weapon.  Still, if she had some weight in the 
command of this unit, she might be able to find a way to end the bloodshed 
before it got any worse, before the normals got involved. It was risk she was 
compelled to take.  Certain that she did not stand much of a chance in the 
fight, she still nodded her assent.  "Okay, you've got a deal."
	What details she could get from touching the pike told her nothing 
about how to make it extend.  There were no switches, no buttons, nothing of 
use.  It was nothing like the modern Minbari technology to which she had 
grown accustomed.  She was about to ask for assistance when a though struck.  
Her fingers moved over the slim cylinder, finding three very specific, very 
unmarked pressure points.  Something told her that if she pressed them in a 
particular order, it would open the pike.  With nothing to lose, she picked 
the first order that came to mind and triggered the points.  The pike flashed 
into existence.
	"Impressive," Alina stated.  With a twirl of the sword, it came to 
rest in a two-handed grip.  "As Lyta's friends the Vorlons would say, and so 
it begins."
	She struggled to recall the times she had seen Marcus in combat, 
remembering the movements as much as her normally eidetic memory would allow. 
 The woman that challenged her was a known fighter, and that was by Marcus's 
standards.
	Susan blocked Alina's first few attacks without much effort, more 
acquainting herself with the pike than anything else.  She blocked a blow 
from overhead, then from the side.  One surprisingly restrained attack after 
another, until Susan realized that Alina was allowing her the time she needed 
to get comfortable with her weapon.
	She felt knowledge that she had not even known she had seeping into 
her mind.  Alina made a feint toward her side, and Susan blocked it easily.  
The clang of exotic metals filled the tunnels as Susan finally began her 
attacks.  Adjusting her grip, Susan thrust her left hand forward, bringing 
the lower level of the pike out at knee-level.  When that attack was parried, 
she thrust the other arm forward.  Alina's sword rose just in time to block 
the blow to the head.
	Alina went on the offensive once again.  Overhead attacks were 
followed by attacks at Susan's knees, or her side.  She quickly realised that 
Marcus had been right.  This woman was a fighter, and a damned good one.
	Susan regretted lowering her guard so very briefly as the sword made 
contact with her left arm.  Suppressing the yelp that wanted desperately to 
escape, Susan mentally slapped herself.  Adjusting her grip, she brought 
herself back to the fight, all the while worrying about what felt like a deep 
gash in her left shoulder.
	Faster and faster the attacks came.
	Faster and faster Alina parried them all.
	Susan attempted to strike at every weakness she could find, until 
finally she could not think of another method of attack.  A warmth began to 
work its way down her arm, numbness coursing into her hand.  Great.  Somehow, 
Alina's blade had clipped a nerve as well as the muscle.  If she did not 
think of something soon, bring this fight to a close, she was going to lose 
the arm.  That was when the idea slipped into her brain.  It was a risky 
move, one Susan was not even certain she could accomplish physically, yet she 
had to try.
	Ignoring the pain, she concentrated her attacks on Alina's sword and 
hands and allowed what felt like instinct to take over.  Her hands seemed to 
move of their own voilition, an attack here, a parry there, until finally she 
got the opening that her plan required.  One stroke of the pike disarmed the 
small brunette, while another blow to the back of her knees brought her to 
the floor. Susan brought one end of the pike to rest at Alina's chest, 
pinning her down.
	When she had caught her breath, Alina's emerald green eyes looked up, 
and a smile spread wide across her face.  "Welcome back, Marcus."
	"What?" Susan asked, her vision beginning to blur at the edges.
	Alina's eyes went to Susan's arm, and her smile turned to an 
expression of concern.  "You're losing blood.  Let me help you."
	Susan shook her head, fighting the dizziness.  "Why did you just call 
me Marcus?"
	"Sit down, Susan.  I'll explain after I know you're all right."
	She recognized the tone in Alina's voice.  After all, she had used it 
herself on more than one occasion.  It demanded no question of her word.  
Another wave of dizziness swept over Susan, and her balance wavered.  She 
slowly lowered herself to the floor, the pike clattering to the ground at her 
side.
	Alina crawled the small distance between them, examining the wound 
with a level of attention that Susan had not seen since her last stay in 
Stephen Franklin's care.  "Well, thank the Great Maker you were wearing short 
sleeves," Alina observed.  "This wound is going to be hard enough to take 
care of without worrying about stray fibers in it.  I didn't mean to clip you 
this hard, really."
	Susan was about to ask how she planned on doing such a thing when her 
frazzled nerve endings began registering a tingle in her shoulder.  
Dismissing it as a simple case of shock, she closed her eyes and fought to 
regain some sense of balance.  Without her vision, the spinning sensation 
slowed to something a little more manageable.
	That was when the tingle intensified.
	Concentrating on the injury, Susan focussed on the sensations she was 
getting from her nerve endings.  The numbness slowly left her hands, leaving 
behind full sensation. Her bicep involuntarily contracted as whatever was 
happening to the muscle continued.  She could remember the feeling of her 
skin being sliced open when it had happened.  Now, however, it was exactly 
the opposite sensation.
	It felt as if the torn flesh were knitting back together on its own.
	The sheer suprise of that realization caused Susan to open her eyes, 
looking down at her injured arm.  Where she expected to see a gaping slice in 
her upper arm, there was the barest cuts inside a flesh-colored line, all of 
which were centered inside bright purple skin.  "What the hell?"
	"Quiet," Alina chastised.  "I'm trying to concentrate."
	"You're what?"
	There was no answer.
	While Susan continued to watch, the cut seemed to close itself.  Deep 
within her muscles the fibres were knitting together, repairing themselves 
with very unsettling sensations.  She opened her mouth to speak, but closed 
it again when speech eluded her.
	Silence filled the space between them, broken only by the occasional 
sound of Alina's laboured breathing.  Moments that felt like hours passed, 
until Alina finally backed away.  When Susan caught her emerald eyes, she 
could see the exhaustion in the small woman's gaze.  "You okay?" she asked.
	Alina nodded.  "Yes.  Just tired.  Stupid thing to do after a 
practice session.  Really stupid."
	Susan looked down at her arm, where only a purple bruise remained.  
"How did you-?"
	"The bruise will have to heal on its own, I'm afraid.  It costs more 
energy than it's worth."
	Susan's fingers went to the bruise.  The skin was smooth to the 
touch, bearing no other sign of the injury than the discoloration.  "You did 
this?" Susan asked, still not believing it herself.
	Alina nodded.  "Little something I learned from the Vorlons."
	"*They* taught you?  Why?"
	"They had their reasons.  Susan, I can guarantee those neural blocks."
	Susan stared into Alina's green eyes, and knew that she meant what 
she had said.  Something still bothered her however.  "How do you propose 
that?"
	Alina took a deep breath.  "The Vorlons showed me a map of the human 
brain, including the neural pathways that hold what we call the memory.  I 
can put up blocks there.  Not permanently, of course, but with enough 
strength that no Psi Cop alive could get through them."
	"And how do we test these blocks?"
	"Andrew can help. He's a high P12 and knows all of the Psi Cop 
tricks.  Please don't think I'm trying to pressure you into this, Susan.  You 
won.  Your word is as strong as mine or Lyta's.  I can't make you do this.  
All I can ask is that you'll promise me you will consider it."
	Susan swallowed hard.  "I'll think about it, Alina.  I'll think about 
it."

[End Part 12]



From: LtCmKieran@aol.com
Subject: Fan Fiction Submission - A Place to Call Home Part 13 of ?
Date: Tue, 29 Jun 1999 10:00:29 EDT

Last piece for today, I promise.  I apologize for the deluge of parts, but I 
wanted to make sure these all got out.

Cheers!!
Terri

----------
Part 13 of  ?
A Place to Call Home
By Terri Osborne
LtCmKieran@aol.com
----------

Disclaimers in prior parts.

Content Warning:  [AC] [AL]

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 Sarah and Sharon for helping get this baby rolling!

See part 1 for spoiler warnings
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Part 13


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March 31, 2264

	"Three hundred a week or no deal."
	Lyta stared icily across the conference table at her 'business 
partner,' one very irritated Michael Garibaldi.  "Come on, Michael.  It's not 
like Edgars Industries can't afford it."
	Garibaldi huffed.  "If I was trying to give it away-"
	"You'd pick a better charity, I know.  Just how badly do you want 
those black projects, anyway?"
	Folding his arms on the table, he leaned forward.  "What if one of 
those projects endangered your people, Lyta?  Wouldn't you want to know about 
it?"
	"You mean the virus Edgars was working on?"
	Garibaldi's eyes narrowed.  "How did you-?"
	"When you wanted me to get through Bester's blocks.  I was hoping 
Susan might be able to look for that vial while she was in Syria Planum."
	"Andrew doesn't know anything about it?"
	Lyta shook her head.  "That's what bothers me.  Bester's keeping some 
very nasty little secrets." Her fist hit the table as her unpredictable 
subconscious threw her an idea.  "That's it, Michael!  That's the inroad 
we've been looking for!"
	"The virus?  If Psi Corps knows-"
	"That's just it, they don't."  She smiled widely as she considered 
the plan.  Yes, it just might work.  "We could say, when you took over Edgars 
Industries, you discovered that William Edgars had kept a few projects to 
himself.  It's the truth, so a surface scan wouldn't give you away.  You 
found out about the virus.  Your investigation lead you to believe someone in 
the Corps was involved, so you decided to do your civic duty and warn the 
Corps about it.  You call up the Director and tell him about your suspicions, 
and that the only vial Edgars had on record disappeared when he was killed."
	Garibaldi nodded.  "That tracks, but, what does this have to do with 
Ivanova?"
	"Everything."  Lyta's smile turned venomous.  "Officially, she 
resigned from Earthforce.  What if you put her on payroll, and assign her to 
working as your lead investigator?"
	Michael Garibaldi shook his head in disbelief.  "And have her at the 
head of a Corps investigation?  It's got a lot of potential, Lyta.  Really, 
it's good.  She'd be in the position of power, and you know how much she'd 
just love to stick it to Bester.  If anyone could pull his slimy little 
secrets out into the open, it's Ivanova."
	"Not to mention it gives you a reason to be there when we hit the 
base," Lyta added.  "You can always go check up on her.  Who trusts 
communication links these days, anyway?"
	Garibaldi leaned back, elbows resting on the arms of the chair.  His 
steepled fingers came to rest against his pursed lips.  Lyta sensed he was 
worried about something, and money was at the surface of his thoughts.
	"Michael, you can put Susan on the books the same way you can put my 
people there.  Consider it research and development expenses."
	He gave a grudging nod.  "I suppose I can backdate the files on your 
people, make it look like I hired them months ago."
	"And Susan?"
	"I can make it believable," he stated.  "Besides, she's one of the 
best hackers I've ever seen.  Sheridan told me about one of the jobs she 
pulled off once.  She helped save a lot of Narns during the Centauri 
occupation."
	Lyta sighed with relief.  "Does this mean you're accepting some of my 
people?"
	Garibaldi nodded.  "If you can promise me there won't be a repeat 
performance of what happened to the ambassadors on Babylon Five, we've got a 
deal."
	Her eyes sombrely met his, remembering the fiasco that a few renegade 
telepaths had created.  "I promise, Michael.  I promise."

----------	

April 1, 2264

	After hours of searching, Susan finally found Lyta in the main 
conference area.  The redhead was pouring over more paperwork than Susan 
could recall seeing in a very long while.  "Lyta?" she ventured.
	"Yes?"  The redhead raised her eyes to Susan's, and a familiar 
expression rested in that coppery gaze.  Susan had seen it in the mirror on 
more than one occasion during her command of Babylon Five.
	She stepped toward the conference table.  After a night spent 
mentally rehearsing the scenario, her stomach still felt as if a thundercloud 
were forming in its depths.  "Can we talk for a few minutes?"
	Lyta closed the folder she had been reading, placing it casually on 
the table.  "Of course.  What do you need?"
	Susan shuffled a foot.  "In private?"
	One eyebrow raised as she pulled herself out of the chair.  "I think 
I know just the spot where nobody will bug us."
	She followed Lyta down tunnel after tunnel, the voices that had been 
tearing at Susan's telepathic walls growing soft.  When they had reached the 
point where she could barely hear them, Lyta stopped walking.
	"This should do," she stated.  "We're secluded enough that *I* can 
barely hear the rest of our people.  And last I checked, Michael doesn't have 
any security cameras run this deep into the tunnels."
	Susan could not resist a small, nervous, laugh.  "Why am I not 
surprised?"
	Lyta scrutinsed her closely, yet Susan felt no attempt at a 
telepathic contact.  "What is it, Susan?" she asked, concern written across 
her features.
	Unable to help herself, Susan began to slowly pace the room.  "I need 
to ask you about something . . . well . . . personal."
	"Not a problem," Lyta replied.  "This doesn't have anything to do 
with what happened with Alina the other night, does it?"
	"In a way, yes."
	The redhead crossed her arms over her chest.  "So, what do you need 
to know?"
	Susan's pacing halted, and she turned to look directly into Lyta's 
gaze.  If it was time to put it all on the line, might as well make it short 
and sweet.  "When you were carrying around Kosh, what was it like?"
	The surprise on Lyta's features told Susan that she had not been 
expecting *that* particular question.  "What was it like?  What exactly do 
you mean?"
	Susan took a deep breath, trying to answer that same question for 
herself.  "Well," she began, thinking aloud, "I mean, what did it feel like?  
Could you talk to him?  Did he talk to you?  What did it do to your dreams?"
	A slow smile worked its way onto Lyta's features.  "I think I see 
where you're going," she said.  "I could talk to him sometimes.  He was 
always more alert than I was.  It was like he could tie into my telepathic 
abilities.  He kept me out of so much trouble because he could always see it 
before I did.  He made me a better person, I think.  I know I was always 
happier when he was with me.  I didn't think about everything they had done 
to me.  It was like I had finally figured out what I was meant to be."
	Susan smiled.  "Sounds like you were in love with him."
	"Maybe I was," Lyta wistfully replied.
	"Was it like that at first?"
	Lyta slowly shook her head.  "I tried to block him out, just to see 
if I could still do it.  Then I got used to him there.  The longer I carried 
him, the harder it became to block him out."
	Susan's eyes shot to the floor.  She could hardly believe she was 
having this conversation.  "Did he ever take over?"
	"Take over?  How?"
	That was a good question.  "Well, say you were in trouble and you 
didn't know how to get out of it.  Did he ever, well-"
	"Do what needed to be done?"
	Susan nodded.
	Lyta shook her head.  "I was never in that kind of situation."
	"Do you think he could have?"
	"Probably."
	Susan ran a hand over her chocolate brown hair.  "Lyta, how do I stop 
it?"
	"Do you want to?" the redhead nonchalantly asked.
	Susan's stomach flipped as she finally considered that question.  It 
had been an easy decision up to that point.
	Nobody got into her head.
	Ever.
	This was simply not allowed.
	Nobody would ever spoil what she had felt with her mother.
	Nobody.
	Until now.
	Muttering a few select Russian oaths against Marcus's parents as well 
as a great number of his ancestors, Susan slowly shook her head.  "Can I at 
least block him from time to time?"
	Lyta smiled.  "After those first few tries, I never figured out how 
to block Kosh.  But, Susan, your situation is not exactly the same as mine 
was.  The same rules may not apply."
	"What do you mean?"
	"Well," she began, seeming to search for the right words, "it's not a 
pretty way to explain it, but here goes.  Kosh wasn't keeping me alive, 
Susan.   That's not true about you and Marcus.  There isn't anyplace for him 
to go anymore.  I hate to say it, but the person you might want to talk to is 
President Sheridan."
	Susan groaned.  If it was this much trouble explaining this to Lyta, 
how would she *ever* explain it to John Sheridan?  "I can't talk to him about 
this, Lyta.  It's hard enough just talking to you."
	One copper eyebrow raised.  "At least you're talking about it."
	"Wait a minute," Susan said as a realisation struck.  "I never told 
you what happened that night.  How did you know?"
	Lyta reached forward, placing a hand on Susan's arm.  "I was there 
when Stephen destroyed the machine.  It was after you had gone.  It was the 
middle of the night, he was alone and hysterical.  I could sense him a 
hundred feet away."
	Susan felt the colour drain from her features.  "How much did he tell 
you?"
	"Nothing.  He refused to talk about what had happened.  All he did 
was sit there and take apart that machine piece by piece.  Then he put the 
pieces into the recycling chute.  He kept asking why he had to pick friends 
that were so stubborn and pigheaded, and why love had to make people so 
stupid.  Considering that you had just left, and Marcus was suddenly gone, it 
seemed logical.  I didn't know for sure until the other day."
	"What happened then?"
	Lyta's eyes fell to the floor.  "When you walked into the room back 
at Michael's house, do you remember feeling anything?  I mean, did you feel 
anything that you might have thought was telepathic?"
	Susan shook her head.  "No, why?"
	"You're sure?  Nothing at all?"
	"Positive."
	"That proves it," Lyta said with a sigh.  "Susan, right before you 
walked in, Alina picked up a familiar telepathic signature.  She recognized 
Marcus."	
	"She's sure of it?"
	Lyta nodded.  "Can I give you one last piece of advice?"
	"I'll take whatever I can get."
	"I hope you weren't very attached to the idea of privacy, because 
you'll never have it again.  Unless . . . ."
	"Unless what?"
	Lyta visibly caught herself.  "Unless you believe in miracles."

[End Part 13]