From: D Goldingay Subject: New story cycle: "Rimstalker" (fwd) Date: Thu, 11 Sep 1997 08:49:02 -0600 (MDT) OK, now maybe I've got the right address.... Once an idea grabs hold of a B5 fan, it very rarely seems to let go, and I've always been a fan of grand epics. This is not, however, a parallel universe epic, but instead a 'mini-arc' focussing on one character, set within the story structure as a whole. And not, I will add, even ON the station for some time to come. One note though, in the tradition of the Great Maker, what appears at first to be straight forward won't be... Enough. And so it begins....! **** **** RIMSTALKER: SHADE AND SHADOW PART ONE A DARK AND LONELY PLACE *** "By the time Babylon 5 came on line at the beginning of 2257, the Nova Class dreadnaughts in Earthforce's arsenal were beginning to be upstaged by their generational descendents, the far more powerful and numerous Omega Class Destroyers. For the most part, in their years of service prior to and during the early and middle stages of the Great War, the Novas were reduced to escort duties, dealing with local planetary insurrections, and, occasionally, to be utilized as exploration platforms on the Rim, although this style of mission was limited in scope due to the Class's microgravity operating mandate... ...of the vessels dispatched on Rim duties, some were associated with ill-fated Interplanetary Expeditions endeavours. The fate of those ships, will, for the most part, never be known, but the one notable exception to this rule began something that would not be repeated until Captain John Sheridan and his crew entered the theater of War in the early months of 2260..." Amanda Zefram Teague, "Holding the Line: A History of the Army of Light, 2257 - 2271" ::Universe DataNet, Oct 2279:: Chronicles Log, first entry: October 14, 2258 Hyperspace has always been a dark and hellish place, and this far off the Sector 900 Jump beacon, there is probably now only a faint cloud of debris sliding down the gravitational incline to show the way to the ATLANTA, my dark, slowly dying prison. I have a problem, you see...the problem being that, unlike the rest of my crew, I am still alive. What those things were, I don't know...I don't WANT to know...but we never stood a chance. Black against space, almost invisible...until they fired on us. We tried to run, but that failed us, as well. Was this what Interplanetary Expeditions sent us to find, out here among the Wastelands and dead worlds of the Rim? To die, far from our homes, far from our loved ones? Typically, it seems, no one is willing to tell anyone the whole story, and no one told us about those dark nightmares when we were sent out here. But I digress, and for the purposes of history and this log, I had best introduce myself, for posterity's sake, at least. My name is William Geoffrey Westcastle, Lieutenant Commander, Earthforce...and I think I am slowly going mad. My last memory before the attack began was of my Captain, Benjamin Frye, slowly turning towards me; then, a purple flash...and darkness. Now, my memories are full of holes, and at the same time, are not, but if I am not to survive, what possible difference can these falsehoods make...these memories not my own? Memories. A city on the edge of a vast legion of trees. A sparkling lake, amid enormous snow capped mountains. A barren hillside, under a vast bowl of stars..I think, the stars of Earth. What am I to make of these mysteries? If I AM to survive, it is clear that I must act. Moving through the dimmning red glare, I manage, at the same time, to glance at the single environmental montor still functioning on the bridge, and avoid taking in the sight of those I knew in the Living World, Death has taken them all, why not I also? ATLANTA is tumbling at speed; this is both a blessing and a curse, as gravity is near normal, it is easy for me to move about...however, the centrifugal force is, at the same time, gradually drawing the precious air out into that godless red vacuum outside. Time is short. Call me what you want, whoever finds this message. Call me Historian, if you like, or Prophet of the times to come. Call me whatever the Hell you want, I didn't ask for this job. I din't ask to survive the attack that all but destroyed my ship, killed all my friends as well as my Captain, and also, as a side point, seemingly injured me rather seriously as well. I was quite happy to serve President Santiago in my own way. But I haven't been given that choice, now have I? What is to come...what has been unleashed upon the galaxy by the hidden masters of the Truth? It is enough that I have discovered a survival suit undamaged by the attack and subsequent explosions. I am bleeding, perhaps it is to death, I am not so sure that I will mind, but I have enough energy to put the suit on and seal it. The air is getting much thinner now, and I have no desire to die in that fashion. I return to the relatively undamaged portions of the bridge. It is evident that many, if not all of the power couplings leading to the fusion reactor have been cut away or damaged enough that power is unavailable. Anything that can run on battery is...that which continues to function, of course. Good. It seems that there is still enough pwoer, and that I have enough interest, to inquire on ATLANTA's status. For that matter, I suddenly discover that "Athene", ATLANTA's primary computer(and muse), is still with me as well... "ZXXIDSVDDK. STATUS. STATUS. SURVIVOR, ENABLE. SURVIVOR, IDENTIFY, ENABLE." It takes me all of several seconds, even in my weakened state, to reach the primary terminal behind the blackened remains of Captain Frye's station. My gaze drifts across the body of Commander Miranda Cochere, ATLANTA's exec...and passes onward. I am sorry, Miranda, I cannot cry for you...not yet, not while the demons of hyperspace are hungrily waiting for me to make my next mistake... "Athene. Enable. Identifier..Westcastle. Status." "EMERGENCY. EMERGENCY. DIRECT ENGAGEMENT WITH ADVANCED, UNKNOWN ALIEN VESSEL FORMS, CLASS AND TYPE UNKNOWN, AT TIME INDEX 1741.14.10.58, HAS RESULTED IN 87 PERCENT LOSS OF SHIP FUNCTIONS. SENSORS HEAVILY DAMAGED. RECORDING SYSTEMS NONOPERATIONAL. JUMP ENGINES OFFLINE OR DESTROYED. COMMUNICATIONS ARRAY, PARTIALLY DISABLED. FUSION REACTOR, CRITICALLY DISABLED. WEAPONS...OFFLINE. LIFE SUPPORT...MINIMAL. POWER RESERVES...MINIMAL. SITUATION...CRITICAL." No...kidding. "Lifesigns." "ONE. IDENTIFIER WESTCASTLE." So. It is as I thought. I am alone. Possibly more alone then any human being has ever been in history...but I doubt that. No way of escape, no source of food, and my vision is beginning to blur. It is clear now that I have received possible lethal internal injuries in the alien attack. As I gaze at the internal sensors on my survival suit, I find that there is little more then 2 hrs of air remaining in the tank. What is there to look forward to? If I am to go, let it be peaceful, most of all, let it be before the air runs out, for without any power to move this wreck, what hope do I have? And then, all of a sudden, the impossible occurs... "ATTENTION. WARNING. SENSOR SWEEP." No..it cannot be...I will not let myself hope. This has to be a mistake..a matrix error. Have the demons come back to finish their work? "Review..status of sensor damage." "FORWARD SENSOR BOOM INTACT. ECU CONNECTOR GRID RATED AT 34 PERCENT OF NORMAL OPERATING STRENGTH. SENSOR SWEEP IS CONSISTENT WITH DEEP RANGE HYPERSPACE PATROL PATTERN." Do I dare let myself hope? Could there be ANOTER Earthforce ship close enough to be dispatched on the search that has invariabley just been called, and equally invarialby, is soon to be abandoned, afterall, 'ships are lost in hyperspace all the time'. I cannot hope...NO, I refuse to allow myself that emotion. "SENSOR SWEEPZZGVXZ II...II...IS NARRZFOWING. RANNG ONE ZXZZZXXX KILZXX.." Athene falls silent. It is clear the damage has been too much. But what am I to do? I feel so weak now... Wait. Athene had said...the comm array was PARTIALLY disabled. Enough. For the memory of the Captain, for Jess, if for no one else, I will do this thing. I move to the comm array station. The chair is empty, I do not see Lieutenant Morgan. Perhaps that is for the best. "If..anyone is out there. Mayday. Mayday. Lost in Hyperspace. EAS ATLANTA, lost in hyperspace, critical damage. Engagement with unknown alien vessels resulting in critical damage. Assistance requested, I repeat, assistance requested. I repeat..." A deep cracke, and then, amazingly, my prayers are answered. "This is Deep Range Patrol Nine Seven, EAS AGAMENNON. Identify yourself, your r..k and p..s.n. We are triangulating your position from the beacon, A..T..A." AGAMENNON. I don't...believe it, Sheridan himself came out to find us! "U..understood. This is Lieutenant Commander Westcastle, Secondary Operations officer, EAS ATLANTA." "Roger that. Do you kn..w of any other survivors onboard your vessel? We have been hunting for you for some time now." Good Lord. How long was I unconscious?? "Negative. I say again, negative. No other survivors." "Understood. Stand by...request coming for direct realy of y..r signal to the AGAMMENON's bridge. Stand by." And then, an all too familiar voice. Someone I never expected to meet again, not so soon...and not in this fashion. But this assistance I will not complain about, least of ALL from Captain John Sheridan himself! "From what we can see of your ship, Lieutenant Commander, you're lucky to be alive. What the hell did you run into out here that cut you up like that?" I lean against the console, hope has freed me from Death's grip enough that I can begin to forget that long wait in the dark. I am free enough to smile as I key the link one more time. "I wish I could tell you, Captain. But it's not..." The bridge fades around me as I slump. Had Death caught up to me at last? My last thought is quite clear on that subject. Like Hell... ***************************************************************************** To be continued in SHADE AND SHADOW, PT 2, "OMEGA NAUGHT", a tale of rebirth, deception and despair, starring Captain John Sheridan, Alfred Bester, and Vice President Morgan Clark. Trapped between Psi Corp and EarthDome, Westcastle must turn to the Captain of the AGAMMENON for help. The result of this bargain will set in motion two destinies, and lay the groundwork for all that follows... <*> David G Goldingay at dgg@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca <*> From: D Goldingay Subject: Rimstalker, Shade and Shadow, Part 2A (Edited) (fwd) Date: Thu, 11 Sep 1997 08:52:19 -0600 (MDT) MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII ***************************************************************************** Greetings. This (exceptionally long by the look of it) tale of William Westcastle, the Rimstalker, was begun in "A Dark and Lonely Place", in which Westcastle, secondary operations officer onboard the Nova Class Dreadnought ATLANTA, finds himself the only survivor of an attack by the Shadows. Of course, no one, even he, knows WHAT the Shadows represent yet. Westcastle, on the edge of Despair, then finds himself rescued by another Earthforce vessel, John Sheridan's AGAMMENON... This is likely to get bigger then I originally expected, also, so subdivisions are also going to be in order... RIMSTALKER: SHADE AND SHADOW, PART TWO 'OMEGA NAUGHT', PHASE A *** "...almost beyond belief that anyone survived that attack, afterwards it was clear who was responsible, although I would have to wait another 15 months to confront them face to face for the first time. When we took Westcastle on board, he was nearer to Death's doorway then just about anyone I had seen since the War. That this would change in the years to come was only a reflection on where our actions took us..." Emile Gauthier: "John Sheridan: The Man, the Myth" * * * October 16, 2258... NightHawk system was BORING, and nothing Lieutenant Jennie Clifford tried seemed to change the facts. It was enough that she had been able to corner the lucrative (if you enjoyed flying) 'Fury patrols out past NightHawk V. 'Have to show the flag, do we? Too bad it's in such a backwater... "WARNING. JUMP POINT FORMING, SECTOR 1 BY 1-5. COLLISION IMMINENT." "What the Hell?" she gasped, throwing her 'Fury into a tight downwards spiral as ahead and above, the massive, and deadly, blue cone of the jump point sprang into being. Whoever it was was coming in on a strange tangent(from the Rim?) and completely unexpected, at that. On a thought, she flipped her 'Fury to bring the Point into full view, as deep within, a bright dimensional flash heralded the arrival. Whatever it was, it was BIG... Seconds later, the capital ship sprang into normal space, and Jennie's eyes widened. A Omega...more specifically...Captain Sheridan's Omega, the AGAMMENON! He was supposed to be out on the Rim...but admittedly, Nighthawk WAS the closest Alliance colony to the Rim, but so new, the Omegas generally bypassed and continued on to the inner worlds. Whatever, she mused, taking up station above and behind the swiftly rotating habitat section, I'm going to keep my mouth shut...gawd, they're beautiful ships, even if necessarily deadly. "Nighthawk Recon to EAS AGGAMENNON. What is your status, over?" "Recon, this is AGAMMENON." Holies, Jennie thought, I'm actually talking to *Sheridan* ! "We're carrying the single survivor from the ATLANTA disaster in-system. We would appreciate it if you could boost on ahead and clear the way for us. AGAMENNON Alpha Squadron can provide extra muscle for you on the way in, as required." "Roger, sir, as I'm sure you understand, EarthForce presence in this system, is, well, to put it mildly, light at present. And there's plenty of commercial traffic close to the jump gate right now. We accept your offer, sir, with gratitude." "I thought you might. AGAMMENON out." Jennie gritted her teeth as she set her 'Fury to maximum boost to join the squadron already pouring out of the AGGIE's fighter bays, this is surely liable to raise a few eyebrows insystem... * * * Face stony, Lieuteant Commander Nicholas Viga approached the door that lead to the office of his CO, thoughts boiling through his mind. It was far from clear whether or not Westcastle would survive...it was amazing enough that he hadn't lost any limbs or organs from radiation damage before the rescue attempt! However the situation, the Captain had ordered thrice daily reports on his condition during the AGAMMENON's run in from the Rim, and Viga was not about to shirk from that duty, hoever bad the news might be. With that firmly in mind, he keyed the signal for entry. "Sir?" The door opened. "Come in, Commander...take a seat. How is our patient doing?" Viga sighed. "No better, but at least no worse during the last few hours. Doctor Mahartje seems to think that he will survive, but of course the reason we made this run in to Nighthawk in two jumps was to ensure that fact. Whether or not he will emerge from the coma is another matter entirely." "Yes...and yet, it's curious, Commander, that EarthDome is so insistent on this matter. You would think that it would enough that Mister Westcastle survived the rest of his crew. And yet, we were able to find nothing out about whatever tore the ATLANTA in half, except that is was a powerful energy weapon." "There are plenty of races out there that fit that bill, sir." "Too many...but without proof, we cannot, of course, accuse anyone or even delve into the matter too deeply." "Understood, sir. If I may inquire, what are we to do once we have seen Lieutenant Commander Westcastle safely to intensive care at Nighthawk Central?" "General Lea has ordered the AGAMMENON to remain in NightHawk orbit until the Lieutenant Commander has recovered sufficiently to be transported to Earth system. He is to be handed over to Psicorp officials at that time." "*PsiCorp*, sir?" The Captain nodded, his face becoming as set and grim as Viga's. "Precisely. And that is something I don't think I like. At all." ***************************************************************************** To be continued... <*> David G Goldingay at dgg@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca <*> From: D Goldingay Subject: Rimstalker, Shade and Shadow, Part 2B Date: Thu, 11 Sep 1997 12:17:46 -0600 (MDT) MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII RIMSTALKER: SHADE AND SHADOW, PART TWO "OMEGA NAUGHT", PHASE B ** "And do you think that Sheridan can be trusted to keep his mouth shut on this? The attack on the ATLANTA was a mistake, but it would be a greater mistake to change any of our plans at this stage. No, I believe it is time to take care of Mr. Westcastle in a more...direct fashion then was originally planned..." ** : Remarks attributed to Alfred Bester in mid Oct 2258 * * * Oct 17, 2258...2000 Earth Standard Time... "Gold channel message coming in, sir." "As expected, Mr. Rathley. I'll take it." "Yes, sir." "...Captain Sheridan." "General Lea, I've been expecting your call...." "Captain, the situation has changed. PsiCorp has decided that the wait for Mr. Westcastle to recover enough is too extreme, and we agree. Three of their more senior telepaths boarded the CLARKSTOWN slightly more then a hour ago, and they are expected at Nighthawk within the day. As such, the presence of the AGAMMENON at Nighthawk is no longer required." "But..." "No buts, Captain. I will assume that your crew is all on board, or will be on board shortly. Once that is the case, the AGAMMENON is to jump within the hour, and resume her previous exploration and protectorate duties. Is this clear, Captain?" "Yes, sir. Very. AGAMMENON out." *** 2214 Earth Standard Time... "They jumped!" Jennie exclaimed, a she emerged from the refresher unit. "Without hardly any warning. They scooped up all their 'Furies, turned to vector, and jumped! I don't get it!...weren't they supposed to take that crit cond patient to Earth as soon as he was healthy enough to make the journey?" "Think about what you're saying, Jen..." Lieutenant Commander Walther Gideon, the CO of Nighthawk Station, replied with a smile, his finger wagging. "A single survivor of what was admittedly a serious accident tying up the resources of a whole Omega Class Destroyer. That's not what I'd call a judicious use of resources." Eyebrow raised, Jennie threw herself into a chair, taking a quick glance as she did at the activity around the jump gate...quiet, thank God, for the time being. "I *suppose* you're right...impressions are usually wrong in this outfit, and of course, how we can we predict what the Powers that Be are going to do? We're just the little cogs in the wheel...oh, and before I forget, now the PsiCorp commandeers a whole Hyperion Cruiser to get out here to 'interview' one man...is that any bettter?" Gideon laughed. "You take everything far too seriously, Lieutenant. However, a bit of a break from routine is in order, and I am hearby detailing you to get your butt down to Central and bring Mr. Westcastle up to date on his situation, as well as beginning the process that the PsiCorp detachment will continue with once they arrive. Dr. Quesotz has just informed me that has emerged from his coma, therefore, get going. The information provided by the AGAMMENON investigation team will be waiting for you in your dayfile." "Well.." came the sarcastic mutter from the hallway outside as Jennie departed, "You mean I actually get to *meet* Mr. Mystery Survivor? What an honor..." Gideon laughed again, and returned to his work. *** Chronicles Log, Second Entry...October 18, 2258. One of my first sights after returning to the waking world was of a dark gray moon with small seas against a nebular curled sky full of stars through a transparasteel portal in the ceiling of my ward. Evidentally, I had Captain Sheridan and his crew to thank for in getting me to wherever I had ended up after my collapse. The fact that I was seeing these sights indicated that their work on me had been a success. Whether this was going to be a blessing or a curse I did not yet know. I groaned(helpfully, of course), and a serious looking young woman in medical grays immediately entered my field of vision. It seems someone has been anticipating my return to consciousness. No great surprises there. "Lieutenant Commander...welcome back to the waking world. How do you feel?" "..Banged up. Headache. Better then I was." "Very good, considering that whatever attacked you out on the Rim utilized was utilizing extremely high energy weapons. The radiation sweep alone almost killed you, but you also recieved serious internal head injuries, as well. It's a miracle you stayed conscious long enough to talk to that AGAMMENON patrol. They wouldn't have found you otherwise... your ship had drifted a great distance from the hyperspace beacon track." "I figured as much...?" "Dr. Mariallah Quesotz, Nighthawk Center." Nighthawk? "That's...over...a hundred light years from where we were....forgive me, Doctor, but how long have I been..." "Four days, three hours, since you were intercepted by Captain Sheridan and his crew. They arrived here two days ago, with you in serious condition, but the Captain's staff did a commendable job in keeping you stable during the run in, considering you were in a light coma the whole way in." I'm lucky to be alive, by the sound of it... "Uh...yeah. Is the AGAMMENON still in orbit, by any chance? I'd like a chance to thank Captain Sheridan in person, if possible." "I'm afraid not, Lieutenant Commander. The AGAMMENON was ordered out of orbit late last night." Great. "OK, so what..happens now? Since I'm the only survivor of my crew, it's obvious that EarthForce Special Investigations is going to want to talk to me, I know that much. Do I get to go back home? And if so, how soon? How complicated is this going to be?" The doctor's smile vanished, and she sighed. "It's..not quite that simple, I'm afraid, and I'm not qualified to discuss such matters with you, in any case. However, a young Earthforce officer from Nighthawk Station is waiting outside to discuss your situation with you, " I nod, and Dr. Quesotz walks out. As I lever myself up to my elbows, another young(this was the Frontier, after all) red-haired woman in EarthForce blues entered the Ward. And that is how I met Jennie Clifford for the first time. Ironic, isn't it, how things start, and where they end up. However, at the time, all I saw was a serious, probably quite dedicated officer who was going to brief me on...what? "Good Evening, sir. My name is Lieutenant Clifford, Nighthawk Station, and I have some information to fill you in on now that you've returned to us safe and sound. Do you mind if I take a seat?" "No, no...not at all." "Thank you, sir." There was a brief pause while the young lieutenant gathered her thoughts. "There are a considerable number of things that you should know, sir, and I will try to be as brief, and concise, as possible during this trying time. One: Captain Sheridan passed onto us that he and his crew confirmed that you were the only survivor of whatever attacked the ATLANTA. A bit of a miracle, actually, when you look at it properly. Two: The attackers were not recorded in any fashion, on any instrument. Before we go on, what do you remember of the attack? If anything?" I grunt. "Blackness. A scream...might've been one of the bridge crew, but I'm not really sure. A purple flash...an explosion that flung me to the deck..then nothing until I awoke some time before the AGAMMENON rescued me." "I see. So, no clear recollection of who attacked you, what race, what class of vessel. Fair enough, if there's anything more to find, I'm sure we'll be able to draw it out of you in due course. Three: The AGAMMENON was unable to recover much of the ATLANTA for study because of your vessel's great distance from the beacon. They nearly lost their lock as it was. We must assume at this point that any further research on the wreck will not be possible...." Okay, enough is enough. "Um...Lieutenant...could you get to the point, please?" She looks so shocked. Just out of the Academy? "Sorry, sir. This is meant to be a pre-liminary interview prior to the arrival of the Psi Corp team..." Woah. "PsiCorp?" She looks uncomfortable...she has a right to be. "Yes, sir, they should be here any time now..." Wonderful...just, freaking wonderful. First I get my brains turned inside out by some ticked off aliens, and now my own race is going to do the same... It was my thought that his situation couldn't possibly get any worse, of course. Little did I know... * * * "Jump Gate online...it's the CLARKSTOWN, sir." Gideon nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Bradley. Hail them for me, please." "They're already...doing that, sir." Gideon sighed. "Pipe it through to my station, then." He looked down, and jumped as the image of a short, serious man in PsiCorp Black appeared...so, they did send the PsiCops...this must be serious. "Good Day, sir...Lieutenant Commander W.." "I know who you are, Commander, and I am less then interested as a result. My name...is Mister *Bester*, and I strongly suggest you aid me in every possible way during the course of this investigation. It will be in mutual interest to have this go smoothly, and I'm sure Mr. Westcastle will agree with me as well. Are we clear on this?" Gideon winced. "Very clear...Mr. Bester. Stand by." * * * **Interlude**... "Why did you do this? If we are not careful, this could upset everyone's plans!" "You exaggerate. The ATLANTA was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. It would have been inappropriate for anyone to observe the actions of my associates in that place and that time. You *do* want *your* own plans to succeed, do you not?" A pause. "Yes." Bitterly. "Very well, then. If you want the power, then there *must* be compromises." "The survivor will make this very difficult to accomplish." "My associates are dealing with *that* problem as we speak. I assure you..after today, Lieutenant Commander William Westcastle will *not* be an impediment." "For all our sakes, *pray* that you right!" * * * The AGAMMENON rushed towards the Rim. Hands behind his back, Captain John Sheridan paced along the wall of his office, deep in thought. What contacts he did have indicated that something was up, things were moving deep within compartments unthought of and untouched for some time now. The conspiracy was afoot...but what would be the result? PsiCops converging on Nighthawk station. The AGAMMENON summarily ordered away from the system. The whole thing *stank* of secrecy. But what could he do about it? The decision was made. Sheridan hit his link. "Mr Rathley." "Sir?" "Get me Gold Channel access..at once." "Yes, sir!" Sheridan sat down. It was time to have another talk with General Hague... * * * ** Next: Bester faces off with Westcastle, and Sheridan makes a decision that will be vital to the survival of the Human Race... Stay tuned...Part 2C coming soon, same place, same channel... ***************************************************************************** <*> David G Goldingay at dgg@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca <*> From: "Mr. Ralden" Subject: Rimstalker, Shade and Shadow, Part 2C (corrected) Date: Mon, 15 Sep 1997 09:59:54 -0600 (MDT) A kind soul pointed out that I had made a rather serious error in this part in the horde of writing I poured out on Friday, thanks to K. Griffin for the warning before I get any farther into this. Posted here is the way it SHOULD have been, edit all documents as necessary.... Time to up the research quotient...maybe I can avoid these in the future...given how big RIMSTALKER is going to end up being, it's probably better to get the bugs worked out at the start...! ***************************************************************************** <*> Mr. Ralden at dgg@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca <*> RIMSTALKER: SHADE AND SHADOW, PART 2 "OMEGA NAUGHT", PHASE C ** "What did I see in him at first? You have to be kidding. At first, I didn't consider that as a possibility. The sole survivor of a disaster later swamped by other disasters, a disaster kept so hush hush that nobody in Earth system seemed to know it had happened, everyone in the command structure at EarthDome zipped their lips about it OR had their lips zipped for them, and PsiCops running all over the place trying to clean up after...who? We found out later *who*...and the answer we got was far from the one we wanted...or desired...and ended up almost being the greatest nightmare of our existence. At least up to that point." : Captain Jennie Clifford(ret), "Storm Crossing: The Shadow War, and other Responsibilities." C. 2281 Oct 18, 2258...EAS CLARKSTOWN, executive quarters...1140 E.S.T Alfred Bester gazed solemnly down on the desolate mudball that was Nighthawk, and as always, considered the future, and the Plan. It had been made clear by those higher up in the Corp that the Plan would have to continue in its present course if anything was to survive. He had long since come to accept this as due fact, indeed, it was his belief that certain parties, regardless of their beliefs, would not have as great an influence on future events as they lead themselves to believe. That, of course, was merely personal opinion for now. There were many elements yet to be played in the Game...and one of those elements stood nearly ready for interrogation on the planet below. Lieutenant Commander William Westcastle, martyr, pariah, and only survivor of an event that thankfully had yet to become common knowledge outside of a small, select group. Bester considered that controlling that information would be a serious challenge, but a challenge was good for you... kept your mind stimulated. Deep in thought, Bester ticked off the most important points under consideration. One: Sheridan and his crew. Elements within EarthForce command were already working to supress the spread of any useful information from that source. It was clear from the testimonies of the AGAMEMNON crew that they had no idea what had destroyed the ATLANTA, high energy weaponry, it *seemed*, but that could always be *proven* as debatable. Something serious, true, but more guesses and rumours then facts. Sheridan, now...he was a wild card. Bester had long suspected there was a problem waiting to be born there, but that would have to wait for the time being. Two: The crew of Nighthawk Station. Even less facts, and more rumours, a relatively easy task, there was, after all, only a short distance in thinking between "disaster" "attack"...and, "accident". The final report would show that as the cause, naturally. Three: EarthForce Command staff personnel. Not really his concern, of course, others would take care of that problem. But Bester had long since seen it was necessary to have all the facts in careful, complete, order at ALL times. Four: The most important of the elements, Westcastle himself. The "interview" would have to be conducted carefully and thoroughly..and it was possible, Bester concluded, that some minor alterations to the young man's personality might have to be in order. But that was neither here nor there...and there seemed to be other forces at play, as well. An interesting proposition, in any case... Abruptly, he snapped back to the here and now...the signal chime through the warship's command network was sounding. So much time was wasted passing messages back and forth in this fashion...perhaps in the future, this would change... "Yes, Commander?" "Nighthawk Central has just signaled us, Mr. Bester. Lieutenant Commander Westcastle has recovered sufficiently to be interviewed by you and your personnel." "Very good, Commander. We'll be getting back to you shortly on the matter of transport to the surface, then." "Understood." Bester turned away from the monitor as the signal cut...minor details, and far from important. Behind him, the door to his quarters slid open, and his two assistants silently entered. Ms. Salient, the more senior of the two, wryly commented, Bester smiled. One never knew when one would need an extra piece to be played. And one never...EVER wasted oppurtunities to Play... * * * 1207 E.S.T...on the Rim... "It's far from clear whether or not I can do anything about this situation, Captain, and it is not within my mandate to reveal most of what is going on. It is enough for you to know that your report, as well as the the reports from your crewmembers, will be used to determine the final report of loss." "Damnit, that's *not* enough, General! They're treating Westcastle like some sort of outcast, like it was his fault that he survived! Is that fair?" "No...it isn't. You have to remember that while I possess a great deal of authority, I am only one man, and hold one vote. The concurrent decision reached by EarthForce Command was for EarthForce Intelligence and the PsiCorp to take care of this situation. I can't change that decision, however much I would have liked to." "I understand, that, sir. There *is* something we can do, however. It's risky...but from the little I saw of the way Mr. Westcastle thinks, it *just* might work..." * * * 1530 E.S.T.. "Lieuteant Clifford..!" Dr. Quesotz exclaimed, as she tapped rapidly on the medpad, "This is far from standard procedure! And, in any case..." Jennie gritted her teeth...you don't say... "I understand that, Mariallah, but Mr. Westcastle isn't in the best frame of mind about the PsiCorp right now! Isn't there any way we can provide him some sort of assurances that he won't be harmed? Who knows what those PsiCops are here for?" "Unnecessary." a voice spoke from the doorway, and Jennie whirled, her fears come true. Two PsiCops stood in the doorway, a short, dark haired man, undoubtedly the Mr. Bester that Walther had warned her about, and a taller, red haired woman. "We are more then happy to provide you with those assurances, Lieutenant. My task here, and Ms. Salient's, is not to harm Lieutenant Commander Westcastle in any way, but instead to determine whether or not the accident that destroyed the EAS ATLANTA *was* an accident, or the beginnings of what could possibly be a serious threat to Alliance security. Mr. Westcastle's partial amnesia does not make this job any easier, and so, here we are..." "Which is what I was trying to tell you, Lieutenant..." Dr. Quesotz put in resignedly, "But you didn't really give me a chance to, now did you?" "Remember..." Mr. Bester chided, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth, "It's in our job description to be the best at what we do. We're not always hunting down rogues...that tends...to get a little boring sometimes." Boring...you don't say. But why should we believe anything you say? "I..understand, sir. If you don't mind, would it be too much trouble for me to be in Commander Westcastle's room when you interview him? I have, shall we say, come to sympathise with his situation..." And he's cute, too...even under all those bruises... The smile lines on Mr. Bester's face tightened a little more. Oh hell, you bastard, I bet you picked up on that, didn't you? Mental reminder, Jennie, be a little bit more careful in the future about broadcasting those kinda thoughts around telepaths... "I think that can be arranged, Lieutenant, we can all sympathise with certain things. Ms. Salient will serve to protect you from any backlash we may get during the discussion. Shall we proceed?" * * * Chronicles Log, Third Entry...Oct 18, 2258...evening. Slightly more then an hour ago, Mr Bester and his companion, Ms. Salient, finished what they came here to do. I'm not entirely sure what the point was. Reasking some of the questions that Lt. Clifford asked earlier, expanding on some points, ignoring others, checking on things, he said. All the while, assuring me that "Surface Scans" were all that was required for the purposes of the Special Investigation. I don't believe it. I don't believe *them*. My memories of the disaster aren't any better then they were before, if anything, things have gotten worse since I returned from the edge. My life before almost seems like a dream...I can hear Captain Frye and Commander Cochere discussing the mission at hand, but I can't see their faces anymore. What this is a result of, I'm not sure. Mr. Bester seemed overly interested in the instant everything went to Hell, but also told me the brain damage I suffered during the incident would make certain things difficult to remember. When it comes down to it, I'm not even sure anymore whether or not what happened really *did* happen. And before I forget...my earlier comments about going mad when I was on the bridge of the ATLANTA, at the end...weren't just fantasies of a delirious mind, although I look back on those comments and just can't be sure what I was thinking about at the time. My recent memories continue to be full of holes...as I've indicated above, things may have only gotten worse. But overlain on those memories is a miasma of images that doesn't belong...I can swear I've never been to these places, seen these things. It's not nearly as overwhelming as is was...but yet...the memories remain, raising their banners in the tatters of my mind. I can't leave this alone..not yet, at least. It means something..but what? And why? (Ten minutes later) It seems that my hospital stay is drawing to a close. Lt. Clifford just returned to see me, in the company of Dr. Quesotz. The Doctor seems to think I'll be up and about starting in about 48 hrs, and I tend to agree with her on that, both the pain and the weakness are starting to recede. Lt. Clifford managed to look both worried and relieved at the same time...by the look of it, that's nothing new, for her. The Lieutenant did give me two messages to read, by the look of it, orders from higher up... Can't say I mind, if the investigation was that simple, someone has to have made up their minds about taking me out of this limbo they've stuck me in. I key the first file to open... Well...I'll be damned... * * * Out in the darkness beyond the inner worlds, out beyond the mining traffic shuttling between Nighthawk Colony and its jump gate, a vast muddy sphere of gas swung through the darkness. The men who had discovered Nighthawk and its wealth over thirty years before had been given cause, through an accident of fate and trickery, to name it Loki... Loki was a more or less standard gas giant when it came down to it, a ball of hydrogen and ammonia banded with great storms and planet sized hurricanes, and ringed by multiple, tiny iceball moons. But now, on on this day, in this Age, the name that Mankind had given the world would soon become all too appropriate. On Loki VII, something was stirring... ***************************************************************************** Next: The conclusion of "Omega Naught"...Westcastle's messages raise more questions then answers, and the decisions he makes tie him ever more closely to his fate... ***************************************************************************** <*> dgg@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca <*> From: "Mr. Ralden" Subject: Rimstalker, Shade and Shadow, Part 2D Date: Fri, 12 Sep 1997 13:57:43 -0600 (MDT) RIMSTALKER: SHADE AND SHADOW, PART 2 "OMEGA NAUGHT", PHASE D ** ..one of the most interesting ideas I'd had up to that point, of course, was to involve Westcastle in the network even before plans became concrete at higher levels. It would have to wait until I reached Babylon 5 in January for that to happen. The result we received was completely unexpected, once the pivotal events of December came to pass..** - Emile Gauthier: "John Sheridan: The Man, the Myth" Chronicles Log, IV, Oct 26th, 2258... Eight days now, I've had to get used to it, and I'm still not. Reading those two messages gave me both reason to despairof (even ontop of nearly being killed by whatever it was) and reason to be interested in the most interesting propostion of my career to date. I key up first one message, and then the other, and read them again. I still can't believe it...it will more then likely take a little while to sink in. On the surface, the orders sound like good ones...but I was *meant* to be on a starship, was this 'delay' in reassignment really necessary? And on medical grounds, at that, I couldn't understand it at all...at first, it felt like banishment. But then, after several rereads, my thoughts on the situation have changed. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ORD EFJCS 2258/77381 1) INVESTIGATION EAS ATLANTA DISASTER COMMUNIQUE /31 CONCLUDES LCMD WESTCASTLE, W PLAYED NO PART IN DISASTER OCCURENCE. EVIDENT CIRCUMSTANCES BEYOND CONTROL OF ATLANTA 2OPO RESULTED IN DESTRUCTION OF EAS ATLANTA IN SECTOR 900, 14/10/58. PSICORP INVESTIGATION UNIT CONCUR ON THIS FINDING, LCMD WESTCASTLE NOT AT FAULT IN DISASTER, EVENT WILL NOT BE HELD AGAINST LCMD WESTCASTLE'S PROMOTION AND STANDARDS RECORD. 2) LCMD WESTCASTLE, W REASSIGNED TO NIGHTHAWK EARTHFORCE DETACHMENT, EFFEC 19/10/58, IN POST OF OPO, TO REPLACE LT. HAWKDAL, CURRENT OPO, EFFEC THIS DATE. LCMD WESTCASTLE W TO ASSIST LCMD GIDEON, W, CO IN ALL DAY TO DAY FUNCTIONS OF NIGHTHAWK STATION. 3) LCMD WESTCASTLE'S ACTIONS TO BE TAKEN INTO ACCOUNT BY EA AWARDS AND STANDARDS COMMITTEE. ANY AWARDS OR MEDALS TO BE AWARDED AS A RESULT OF LCMD WESTCASTLE'S ACTIONS TO BE DETERMINED. 3) THIS POST TO BE TEMPORARY, REASSIGNMENT TO OMEGA CLASS FLEET UNIT TO BE CONSIDERED NO EARLIER THEN 19/4/59. REASSIGNMENT DEPENDENT UPON MEDICAL APPROVAL OF PERTINENT EARTHFORCE MEDICAL STAFF. LEA, R, GEN EFJCS * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The other message was no less astonishing, and without saying it outright, the man who commands the starship and crew responsible for saving my life has reminded me of things I already know. Whatever happened out there, neither PsiCorp nor EarthDome is liable to forget it anytime soon, and it is always best to have friends when others will least expect them. In ways we never expect, personal messages can still pass between those that matter, if you don't make too much of a racket. That way, the Powers that Be lose interest eventually in what you are up to, and that usually makes all the difference in the world... You just have to love technology. What looked at first to be merely a message from Captain Sheridan sending his congratulations on my more or less full recovery quickly turned into something else entirely. Once I'd keyed in the acceptance utilizing my personal code, of course. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * PERSONAL COMM ORIGINATOR: SCRAMBLED PASSWORD, OMEGA NAUGHT DESTINATION: LCMD Westcastle, W, EF NIGHTHAWK DETACHMENT, EYES ONLY. MESSAGE FOLLOWS: After we pulled you out of the wreckage of the Atlanta's bridge, neither I nor my crew were sure if you would make it. The fact that EarthForce let me divert the AGAMEMNON to Nighthawk out of our exploration and patrol pattern was probably what saved your life. I don't expect this to work as a favour thing, sooner or later, that sort of thinking always catches up to you. It's enough that someone survived whatever happened out there, and that someone happened to be you. I'm going to bring up something now that may surprise you, or, I could be totally wrong, and I'd like to be, but maybe you've been expecting this. I, and others, have been watching the Alliance for a long time, and there are all sorts of secrets out there. Secrets can aid you, but they can just as easily kill you, you can never forget that. The ATLANTA and all its crew ran into a secret out there on the Rim, and PsiCorp proved that by their interest in you. Move carefully, and slowly, and sometimes, you can see a pattern begin to emerge. I can put this plainly. There's been a 'pipeline' of sorts developing in the Alliance just lately...small for now, but you never do know, it mind up growing large enough to be useful. For the longest of times, people have passed information through the bureaucratic cracks, and things get done. What I'm offering you is a chance to join this 'society'..a group with elements everywhere, from the top to the bottom and out the back door. Maybe we can work together and figure out why the ATLANTA died the way it did...and also what forces were working to let you survive, if it wasn't just fate. Now this is fairly important, the password at the start of this message is the key. "Omega Naught"...go through the right channels with that password, and there's no reason you won't be able to get into the network with whatever information you've got. The others, and I, look forward to hearing from you soon. JJS * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * This sort of thing has been coming for some time now, it was just a matter of time. People begin to notice things when things look wrong, and this was the worst example I'd ever seen. A trillion credit dreadnought is destroyed on the Rim, and what does ISN call it? 'A serious accident.' Someone is lying, OR everyone is lying, and I don't know which is the correct answer just yet. It feels like time is running out, and the more complicated conspiracies get, the more likely it is that sooner or later something's going to break down. For the time being, at least, I'm content to remain out here at Nighthawk, watching, gathering, settling down, and giving myself time to heal properly. You never do know what will happen this close to the Rim... ************************************************************************* Next week: SHADE AND SHADOW continues in Part 3, "Descent of Demons". The stirrings out at Loki begin to attract attention, some benign, some murderous. Westcastle and Jennie decide to investigate... From: "Mr. Ralden" Subject: Rimstalker, Shade and Shadow, Part 3a Date: Mon, 15 Sep 1997 16:00:10 -0600 (MDT) This continues the tale of William Westcastle, the Rimstalker, begun in "A Dark and Lonely Place" and continued in "Omega Naught." Last time, Westcastle, still healing from the disaster in Sector 900, finds himself first visited by PsiCops Bester and Salient, and then abruptedly reassigned to duty at the detachment that saved his life, for reasons both clear and unclear. At the same time, the captain of the AGAMEMNON makes a curious proposal, which Westcastle decides to accept. A pause has been reached. Things are about to get MUCH worse... ***************************************************************************** RIMSTALKER: SHADE AND SHADOW, PART 3 "DESCENT OF DEMONS", PHASE A ** "It was inevitable that the Shadows would begin to reclaim the buried vessels scattered all over the galaxy at the end of the last War, it was just a matter of WHEN....the fate of several deep range mining installations and colonies was sealed during this stage of their operations. These movements, among others, greatly affected the actions of many important....including, Marcus Cole, William Westcastle, and..." Erica Travers, "Wars of Deception" "The avalanche has begun. It is too late for the pebbles to vote." - remark attributed to Vorlon Ambassador Kosh Naranek during the Earth Year 2258 Chronicles Log, Entry V, Oct 29, 2258.. I read up on the specs of both the Nighthawk system and colony, and silently shake my head again. The previous comments I made on the situation out here may have been overly optimistic. There's a better then average chance I was assigned here because EarthForce Command wasn't willing to spend the energy to put me elsewhere. This place is almost no better then the back end of beyond, as Jennie Clifford has put it...but the proximity to the Rim still gives me pause for thought. No wonder Hawkdal wanted out of this place... ** PRIMARY OUTLINE: NIGHTHAWK MINING COLONY *Primary class: G7 *Worlds of Interest: Nighthawk II, location of main colony site and surface mining concerns Nighthawk V, atmospheric mining concerns *Established*: 3 Jun 2248 *Population*: 17,750 at last Census *Economic Focus*: Mining operations, Class 1, 3, 5a, 7b, surface and atmospheric *Earthforce Presence*: Stations on surface in Colony Central, Class 3 orbital gate control facility. Manned presence: 94 *Defence establishment*: 3 orbital Class 1 Phased Plasma arrays *Transport/engagement establishment*: 3 Stnd orbital transport units, 6 ground to orbit transport units, 6 standard format Starfury interception and patrol units *Primary Role of Earthforce Personnel*: Gate Control, Raider Interdiction and system patrol, Legal Enforcement Assistance as required ** What..fun. * * * *Second Interlude*...Early Nov, 2258... "I had not assumed you would ever *lie* to me." "I will assume you are referring, once again, to the Nighthawk situation." "I would not have brought this matter up again if you had followed up on your *claims*. More then two weeks have passed since Westcastle was first interred and then assigned to Nighthawk Colony, and *nothing* has been done! The Joint Chiefs of Staff do not consider this a serious problem, and yet, while Westcastle has been interred out at the edge of known space, he has not as of yet been *dealt* with!" "You over-concern yourself, as usual, about insignicant matters. At the time, I assured you that my associates would take care of the problem within the day, but one cannot do these sort of things in a hurry...hurrying at this point could be disastrous, as I'm sure you understand. However...As I was saying, the process of taking *care* of that problem was begun when I promised. Stage One investigations concluded that Mr. Westcastle's memories of the 'event' are blurry and illdefined, and will continue to get worse as time progresses. Additionally, the report seems to indicate that Westcastle's mental state has become somewhat...unbalanced..." "How is that revelant to the matter at hand?" "Patience. He can hardly reveal any information that he has learnt about our activities, if any such exists. However, it is best to be sure, and so, my associates are preparing to proceed with Stage Two of the operation as we speak. This operation will allow us to deal with Mr. Westcastle permanantly, and, at the same time, provides us with an incentive to conduct a *minor* field test of the 'resources' available to my associates at this time.." November 13, 2258...Nighthawk Orbital station shift turnover...1800 hrs, E.S.T. I'm glad that's over and done with, Jennie told herself, as she slammed the locker and made her way off the fighter deck. I used to think that the patrols to the outer system were boring...now everyone's too high strung to be bored. Raiders and jump points and rumours, oh my... Get a life, Jennie, she told herself, shuttling herself up the ladder grid... And stopped herself just short of slamming into the feet of her CO...so tired, boy oh boy do I ever need a good night's sleep.. "You look wrecked, Lieutenant...was it that bad out there?" Sigh. "Bad isn't the right way of defining it. I don't know what to make of the situation out around the atmospheric mines at Loki, sir. On the surface, it seems that everything's okay, but some of the civ-side officials are insisting they're picking up signals out there... unauthorized signals. Everyone's getting uptight about that...but on top of everything else, there have also been rumours that someone or something's been jumping in and out on the edge of the system! Is there anything you can tell me about that, sir?" Eyebrow inclined, Gideon motioned her to follow him. Oh that was smart, Jennie, she thought to herself, as they climbed up to the Operations Level of the station...now it's probably going to be hours before I get to bed... "Take a seat, Lieutenant." "Yes, sir." "Alright. So what do we seem to have, here? Unauthorized signals, and something jumping in and then jumping out again. THAT implies a capital ship of some sort, heavy cruiser class at least. If we're talking raiders, that implies some heavy degrees of organization...." "Sir?" Oh yeah, here it comes...Walther's got that 'Can't possibly be true..' look on his face again... Jennie glanced across at the senior tech on the station, Beth Kircaldy, just in time to see her nod in agreement. "How likely is this to be true? Not very likely, I'm guessing. You should remember that Commander Sinclair and his crew managed to more or less elliminate the Raider threat earlier this year near Babylon 5. Sure, everyone's jumpy, and there's plenty of rumours going around about weird things going on. But hey!...we're isolated, nearer to the Rim then just about any other colony in the Alliance, that's never done wonders for the nervousness level..." Okay, that's enough. "I see, sir. Thank for clearing that up for me...sir." At that, of course, the Commander's eyebrows went full tilt...another thing she'd come to expect. "There's no need to be snarly, Lieutenant! If anything, we should check some of these rumours out a little more closely. I'll get the techs to prep the 'Furies for a full diagnostic sweep mission, and once you've had some sleep, I'll send you and your pilots out on a full patrol. OK?" Yeah. Right. Whatever. I need some sleep...but first, I need to eat. Maybe William's around here somewhere... * * * Chronicles Log, Entry VI...November 13, 2258...2100 hrs. It's been some time since my last entry, but on general principles, it felt like the time to write a few more things down. In the near month since my assignment as Operations Officer at Nighthawk, I've come to know a few people. My CO, the recently promoted *Commander* Walther Gideon, is, if anything, more condescending then I would like, Doctor Mariallah Quesotz, pleasant, if slightly distant, and many of the techs, such as Ray Bradley and Beth Kircaldy, friendly, but hey, they've been here *forever* (which tends to mean more then a year in this outfit) and so, I'm not part of the *club*, and besides, I'm an officer... That leaves the pilots. As usual, they're the best of the bunch, and above all the rest is someone I'm honestly coming to like more then I should...Lieutenant Jennifer Clifford. It's always been my position never to get involved in things before I know people a little better, but this seems to be an unusual situation developing here. When I first woke up out of my coma, she was there almost immediately, and when Bester and his aide 'interviewed' me all those weeks ago, she was there as well, both worried and protective...I don't know what to make of that just yet. At the moment, we're working what amounts to cross shifts, which means we don't get together as much as I'd like. She's coming off shift just as I'm going on. Today, Jennie told me about her latest flight out to Loki, and the weird rumours that are springing up out there. It's weird, but it's almost like the nearer we get to the end of the year, the more things are going to Hell. This is all building towards something, I just don't know what yet... Tomorrow, her squadron is going out on a full patrol, an apparently rare occurence around here, as most of the time they go out singly or in pairs at the most, that's how *exciting* things have been. Now, Commander Gideon sends them all out at once...unusual. I think I'm going to have to stay awake tomorrow to see how this all plays out... * * * November 14, 2258...0930 hrs... "Your shift is done, Lieutenant Commander." Gideon cautioned, as he came onto the Operations Level to find his Operations Officer still on duty. "It's hardly necessary for both of us to be on duty at the same time. I..." "With all *due* respect, sir...this is an unusual situation for this system. All but one of our Furies are out at Loki trying to deduce whether or not these rumours are true. Lieutenant Clifford's squadron will be on location within the hour, and as Operations officer, it is within my mandate to continue duties during this situational crisis, sir." Gideon sighed. Why did they give him all the serious ones? "All right, Mr. Westcastle. Carry on." * * * Far beyond Nighthawk Central, Jennie's squadron raced through the darkness, as, behind them, the ancient tri-pronged gate built by who KNEW what race rather abruptly went off line as the squadron passed out of sequence range. Interestingly enough, another of the ancient gates had been built in the L5 point in orbit around Nighthawk itself. That the race had been interested in the system enough to build *two* gates was reason enough for the Alliance to colonize the area. It *did* make patrols out to the refineries easy, of course... With a brief thruster command, Jennie flipped her Fury to look back towards the sun. Off to their left, Loki's bulk filled the viewport, with the tiny glints of orbital refineries against the storm cells. Behind her, now, Loki VII, a brown and white criscrossed shattered ball of ice nearly three thousand kilometers across, slowly grew as the Starfuries gradually altered their orbit around the vast gas giant. Okay, girl...play time's over. "This is Alpha One. Commence source sweep, second rotation." "Confirmed, Lieutenant." Rollie Thurlow, one of her more junior pilots, exclaimed, followed immediately by his best buddy, Gordon Thurlow. "I've got the signal loud and clear, now. Looks like those civvie mining techs weren't yanking our chains after all!" She sighed, and looked at her instruments again. Such a typical comment *that* was from Thurlow. A signal it was, but the strangest she had just about *ever* seen. Fainter then was nominal, on a band that *no one* used, and there didn't seem to be any useful information contained in the signal. However, it was apparent, as the mining officials had excitedly transmitted last night, that the signal had gone from indistinct and omnidirectional in the last hour to its current, faint, but steady...and *very* directional in nature. The signal was *definitely* being transmitted out towards the Rim...but to *what*? and Why? "True enough, I guess. Okay, this is what it seems we're dealing with...Refineries 1 and 2 are on this side of Loki right now, they've managed to triangulate the signal to a 1000 square kilometer piece of VII's southern highland. We know where we're going, so let's find that source. Thurlow, Hawkins, retrograde your orbits relative to the rest of us around VII, everyone else, with me!" They may have been glib, but her people were well trained. Without the slightest pause, Thurlow and Hawkins peeled away to pass over VII's north pole, while the rest of the squadron vectored in on the search area from the other direction, decreasing their altitude the whole time. Just over an hour went by while the squadron vectored in on the signal source. If something had jumped in and crashed, it was being awfully quiet, Jennie reasoned. It just didn't make sense...if it had been an Earth ship, there would have been all sorts of transponders squawking...that left the other option..that it was alien in origin. And those were never very much fun to deal with at all. Beneath them, at an altitude of less then ten kilometers, a fresh rift in VII's surface rotated into view over the viciously curved horizon of the moon. Instruments seemed to indicate that the source of the signal was coming from that rift...ah Hell, if they fell into there, we'll never get them out... "Zoom imagers on standby..." she commanded, as the squadron began to pass over the rift. "Triangulate, and enhance!" At that, she glanced down at her display... And life as she had known it changed...forever. Sticking out of the side of the rift, slightly more then a kilometer below the surface, and almost completely encrusted in ice..there was...how could it be described? An almost crab-like object halfway out of the ice, completely black, incised into the riftwall at over a sixty degree angle! What the hell was that thing? She did a brief calculation, and whistled. If the other side of that thing was the same shape as the part revealed, it was way over a kilometer across... And then...suddenly...everything, quite literally...went to Hell... ************************************************************************** In the next phase of "Demons Descending": Some will die, some will be threatened, as the Shadows come to Nighthawk system to reclaim their lost vessel...and incidentally, kill a certain William Westcastle... ************************************************************************** Mr. Ralden @ dgg.gpu.srv.ualberta.ca From: "Mr. Ralden" Subject: Rimstalker, Shade and Shadow, Part 3b Date: Wed, 17 Sep 1997 16:43:14 -0600 (MDT) RIMSTALKER: SHADE AND SHADOW, PART 3 "DESCENT OF DEMONS", PHASE B ** ..."did they do it on purpose? Of course they did, not that I knew the specifics of the situation until much later. The myth that they killed everyone and didn't let anyone escape was partially a false one, but the facts were in short supply at that point in our engagement with the Enemy. Believing things that weren't true and assuming truths that were falsehoods happened enough in any case..." Capt Jennie Clifford(ret): "Storm Crossing: The Shadow War, and other Responsibilities" * * * We serve the Machine. We are the Machine. We *kill* for the Machine. The OTHERS order us...find the Machine. Interference is unacceptable...destroy the Newcomers, sow the seeds. All but the one who will pave our way, despite all...and another. It is the way...of the Machine...so do we obey...so do we serve. * * * Nov 14, 2258...1041 E.S.T...in Loki VII orbit... Two things happened in quick succession, then, in a time frame she would later try to estimate...and fail... One: Above and behind them, silouetted against the darkness of space, a barely seen shadow moved against the darkness. There was no time to respond, at first...as the nightmare resolved itself with a violet beam of deathly intent...and a deathly blast of sound blasted through her mind... A moment of fugue. Two: Six dark shimmers came into being above Loki's surface, something she wouldn't be able to confirm until running back over her 'Fury's log tapes later on. Shimmers that abruptly resolved into tiny, urchinlike spacecraft...no, that was too literal, these were weapons of *Destruction* Seconds after that, the two refineries on Loki's sunward face dissolved into fireballs... No time to scream, no time to even breathe. Above her, the fighters of the Thurlow cousins dissolved in a shower of debris and sparks...they were both doomed and lucky enough, it seemed, to be the first ones to go. Now the scream came, long and hard, in voice as well as mind, as that horrifying, knife of destruction swept down to incise the fighters of her other two pilots...paused for the barest of milliseconds, and then (inevitably so) swung towards HER... <...who art in Heaven...> No break of thought, no break of action. Without even thinking, she reached up...pulled down the ejection handle, closed her eyes tightly(while still screaming) and waited to die... And was utterly surprised to find that she hadn't, in fact, suffered that fate...and opened her eyes. "Oh God!" That was a mistake. Covering half of the slowly tumbling view was the ship that had caused all that carnage...all that...death...a core of darkness and silvery, shimmery arms or legs sticking out in a dozen parallel geometric directions. It screamed in her mind...swept by...and vanished from sight. "Nooo..." How dare *you*, demon that you are, to do this thing...to kill my pilots, to *murder* my FRIENDS..and leave me to live. Are you that hypocritical... Stop it, Jennie...you're...losing it. Too late...I've already...lost it. The tumble of the fighter escape pod gradually brought the still shrinking, still shattered sphere of Loki VII into sight. Silouetted against it, shrinking now to something she could cover with one hand, the demon creature shrank towards the surface...and then she understood...not a wreck....maybe not even a SHIP... Those things...the way they screamed...my GOD, were THEY ALIVE? * * * Chronicles Log, Entry VII...November 14, 2258...(remembrances) You will have to forgive my inaccuracies if any exist, but I'm writing this from a time more then two weeks past the dates in question above, and where we are now, I have a moment to pause, and reflect on what has happened. The Commander and myself will be put to the question soon enough, I'm afraid, and we will have to see what happens after that. Walther and I barely had time afterwards to think on what we did during those moments of perfect horror and chaos. It was the beginning of the end, and, of course, if you like to think of it in those terms, the end of the beginning. My month of limbo between the attack on the ATLANTA and the attack at Nighthawk was spent in ignorance of what was really going on, and the shield of Earthforce was used as a leaf against the burning flame. Then again, I had no idea what was about to happen anymore then the rest of us. It wouldn't have any difference, I guess, if we had known, we were still outgunned by a million to one. The first warning we had that something was wrong out at Loki was Jennie's sudden outburst of what amounted to shock after they located the source of the signal on Loki VII. True enough, at the time, it was an immense shock to realize that there was an enormous alien vessel buried on one of the ice moons of Nighthawk system, but what a horrible fate, to be out there when the masters of that ship came to reclaim it...and, apparently, to try and murder someone.. Most probably me. I'll explain my reasoning behind this observation in due course. Seconds later, both the tracking relays on the Loki refineries and from the 'Fury squadron failed, all in the space of about twenty seconds, we guessed. The last thing we heard was Jennie beginning to scream... And then, the Enemy decided it was our turn... * * * "What the *hell* is going on there!" Gideon exclaimed, as the entire Operations crew fell silent at the cut off scream that had just emerged over the link to their squadron. "I can...hazard a guess..." Gideon turned his head sharply towards his Operations Officer, who had risen from his station. "That thing they got an image of, sir..buried in the ice...just before everything got cut off, they relayed those last images through the gate relays. It looked... wrong. Maybe the owners...came back for it.." Gideon barked his usual laugh...best to try and keep things calm..we don't need to panic here. "How likely is that, Mr. Westcastle?" "With all due RESPECT, sir...would Lieutenant Clifford SCREAM for any reason less serious then that?" Well..Hell. What was he supposed to do? And then had his decision made for him, as the station abruptly shuddered, and every imager on the spaceward side flared an awesome, deathly, violet... * * * You will have to forgive Walther's interruption, he spent about ten minutes describing his point of view during the end of our innocence. In any case, now that we know a little bit more about how they operate courtesy of our new friends, it was clear enough why they did what they did when they did it. Not only did they destroy every human facility and craft in Loki orbit in a matter seconds on the way to reclaiming their lost ship, they also appeared over Nighthawk for far less then a minute, and fired a clear broadside burst straight through the center of the station while traffic was at a complete minimum within the area. We never saw them at all, we were too busy trying to survive, while the surface personnel only saw Nighthawk station flare like a nova, and then break up. They never saw the attackers, either...but that's a story for later, as well. I do, however, digress somewhat. The attack, when it happened, cut our station neatly in half, with the mainline of the blast passing neatly through the deck below us...a degree higher in altitude, and I wouldn't be telling this tale as I am. Whether Fate has had a hand in this is something I'm not going to even touch. However the intentions, Walther and I were both less then four feet away from one of the exterior Emergency Escape Pods when the attack happened. While a hurricane of air rushed down the ladderwell, carrying the screaming but doomed Beth Kircaldy with it, among others, I leapt across the deck through the faltering microgravity, slammed into my surprised-as-Hell-that-this-was-actually-happening CO, hit the toggle for the escape pod just as we reached the wall, and tumbling end over end, we fell into it together...and scant seconds after that, ejected from Nighthawk station as it broke up on its way to the terminal death that awaited it below. This was, of course, the second time I'd faced having my assignment blown out from under me by the same opponents in a month, in fact, the one month ANNIVERSARY of the ATLANTA's destruction. Not that I was paying too much attention at the time. Too many people close to me have died during that time period...I can only thank certain 'friends' I now possess that the most important one did not... * * * November 14, 2258...1716 E.S.T, in low orbit around Loki VII.. She didn't want to remember how the nightmares had risen from the moon below, twin demons of destruction with their cloud of protection, and then had abruptly faded from sight between the moon and its primary. Not a jump point, just...gone. Gone without a trace, as quickly as they had come. All around her, tiny flecks of metal rode in orbit, the tumble unending. It was clear enough that her orbit was dropping, and equally clear that no one would be coming to save her...not now. It was all too likely those things had attacked insystem as well... Damnit...why had they let her live? And was the point of that living, when so many others had died with such ease? The screech of her emergency broadcast beacon mocked her, less then silently. If *those things* had destroyed Nighthawk as well, was there anyone down there(Oh William...!) still alive? Suddenly, a flash out of the corner of her eye broke her out of her reverie, and as the tumble of her pod slowly bought the gate into view, the tines focused their energies at the heart, and a point began to form... "Hope or Death..." she whispered, as the vortex yawned wide, "Hear me please!...whoever you are!" With a snap, the ship sprang into the system. Solid it seemed... dependable...and, quite obviously... Narn. I'll be..damned. The Narn corvette-class ship(if that's what it was, it seemed to share many of the design characteristics of their *monstrous* heavy cruisers*) almost immediately vectored towards her beacon, not surprising, given that it seemed she was the only human alive within twenty million kilometers... There was a crackle, and then.."Earthforce Pilot at beacon source!" a clipped voice announced, "This is the Armed..Merchantman 'N'Blis'. If you can respond to our transmission, please do so at once!.." You..bet. "This is..Lieutenant Clifford, Earthforce, Narn ship. By *God*, how the..." "Allow me the honour of introducing myself." the voice added, as her pod was, in due course, eclipsed by the two hundred meter or so long red and black triangle of the Narn 'merchantman'. "I am G'kael, formerly of the...well, never mind that...now master of the N'Blis. I, my crew, and our...companion detected the disturbance in this system some hours ago, and decided to investigate the matter. Perhaps the fates serve you this day, Lieutenant..it seems you will survive, where all else have died." You have...no idea, she quietly chanted, as, above her, spacesuited and jetpacked Narns began to quietly handle her pod. A grave-faced, elderly Narn saluted her through the cracked and shattered viewport of the 'Fury, it seemed only fair to respond in kind... Shaken, stirred, but living, she was in due course brought into the N'blis's cargo hold. Eventually, as the area pressurized, she stretched, her muscles burning, and emerged with the help of those same crewmen who had helped bring her in, to meet with the party now approaching the pod... Among the Narns, and next to a tall, well dressed male who was probably G'kael, was a short, stooped, but quizzical alien in what seemed to be a FUR coat. And as she swayed on the deck, helmet in hand, it was *he* who spoke first, not G'Kael... "Tck, tck, tck. We have found you, yes." The alien smiled up at her, an all too lopsided grin. "Watcher. Server. Zathras told, Zathras was...so Zathras do. This we have done, Zathras always do what he is told." "Wha..who..." G'kael smiled. "Patience, Lieutenant. Zathras will explain." "Yes, yes..listen, will explain. Zathras say, go from Great Machine, before place above complete, do what must be done. Zathras meet Great Leader, find Stalker, find Observer, but great Task is only BEGUN. You have...a DESTINY. Zathras HONOURED to meet the Observer." What the Hell was...this? "Wha..Observer? Of What?" "Great Enemy return, this you know. Great darkness, Zathras told this, Zathras was." "Great...enemy? Forgive..me, this has been one HELL of a day so far. Those...spider things..." G'kael nodded. "Precisely, Lieutenant. It is best to skirt their full attentions for now, and so, we hide...we are far from ready to engage them, and it will be at least several years before that becomes a reality. Now, the time has come, we have been told, to begin certain things, set in motion certain plans. In the words of another...it HAS BEGUN." Terrific, she thought, as she ever...so...slowly passed out. And I thought life was so..simple.... * * * November 15th, 2258, hrs..Nighthawk surface... "Interference is clearing, Doctor." the technician announced. Finally. Mariallah Quesotz shuddered out a deep breath. Whatever attacked them had for SOME reason spared the colony itself..but the silence from space above mocked that thought. Neither the station in orbit (which they had seen explode over eight hours before) or any of the facilities at Loki responded to comm. And with all the orbital staff either dead or missing, that left her in charge... "Thank you. Let's see if there's any Earthforce ships in the area, for starters...." ************************************************************************* Next: the conclusion of DEMONS DESCENDING: Jennie, G'Kael and 'Zathras' (one of them) preform a much needed rescue...while Earthforce arrives in system to investigate... ************************************************************************* Mr. Ralden @dgg.gpu.srv.ualberta.ca From: "Mr. Ralden" Subject: Rimstalker, Shade and Shadow, Part 3c Date: Fri, 26 Sep 1997 11:43:55 -0600 (MDT) RIMSTALKER: SHADE AND SHADOW, PART 3 "DESCENT OF DEMONS", PHASE C ** "..the argument about the extent of the Narn intelligence services and the resources they possessed is still being argued about to this day. That their military was decimated in the first phase of the Great War is undeniable. That prototypes of their heavy cruiser fleet units existed is harder to determine..." ** G.R. Cormack, "Dust in Winter: A history of the Narn-Centauri conflicts" Chronicles Log, Entry VIII, November 15, 2258(remembrances) Walther and I were having difficulty sleeping when we left behind what happened to be the second worst day of my life to date. The orbit of our escape pod had been taking us slowly but surely outwards towards Falcon, Nighthawk's single, large moon, with no hope of signalling for any help, since the emergency transmitter for the pod was damaged beyond use when we ejected from the station during the attack over twelve hours earlier. The shock was wearing off, and it was increasingly evident that the air and emergency supplies in the pod would be insufficient to keep us alive long enough for anyone to find us...two days or so more, and that would be it. A bad situation, in retrospect...luck itself at the time, I thought, would be the only way for us to get out of this one. From what little I could see of the lower orbits around Nighthawk itself, there were a number of small freighters that had jumped in since the station's destruction that were trying to determine what the hell had happened. Good luck to them...the only people who had survived the attack were in a tiny, beaconless pod more then 50000 kilometres above them. I placed little hope in any of them finding us, when, all of a sudden, I noticed the Gate coming online again... And everything changed... * * * November 15th, 2258...0040 hrs, local time... "We are clear of the gate, Shipleader. System traffic is minimal, however, we are being hailed by the surface colony comm facility." "Ignore them for now, G'nahl." G'kael crisply replied, as he and the N'blis's crewleader lead Jennie onto the *apparently* well equipped bridge of the N'Blis. "Understood." "Zathras..." the Narn commander inquired, turning to the still, to Jennie, curious and mysterious alien companion of the Narns, "Any ideas?" "Tck. Tck. Not good, but not surprise, Zathras say. Zathras told, Stalker will survive, but if we not find...then not good, tck... Zathras know this. Look..up...there, away from world. You will find." "G'kael..." she whispered, leaning on the bridge rail, as the tall Narn took the Commander's chair, "I just *don't* understand how this works. This Zathras character, he knows things he couldn't possibly know. And that's if anyone survived the attack of those..." "Shadows." G'kael replied, turning towards her. "Lieutenant, you must learn to accept that this has happened. None of what has occurred in this place was illusion, as I'm sure you'll agree. We are lucky enough to have Zathras available to help in our search...it should be enough that you accept he knows things you do not...and not worry as much about where the information comes from." Damn. He's right, though. If the mess below us is any indication, those..Shadows sliced Nighthawk Station like a tin can. But why? The reasoning is clear enough where I was...but there's *nothing* here to attract their attention.. A beep distracted her, then. "Shipleader?" "N'rothak!" G'kael barked out, rising from his chair. "Do you have them?" "Possibly. Magnetic range sounding has located an object in high orbit...correlating back...yes, Shipleader, it is obvious that the object originated from the station location...approximately...fourteen human standard hours ago." "That is it, then. Control, triangulate on the object, and bring us alongside. Pray that we have been fast enough, Zathras...for if we are not.." Zathras tck-ed and shook his head sadly. * * * Chronicles Log, Entry VII(cot'd), November 15, 2258...(remembrances) It was far beyond surprise that drew me to watch as the just arrived Narn vessel rose from the gate towards us, and then, quite abruptly, headed straight for our location, as if they knew where we had been all along. It was only a matter of time until they came along side the pod and drew us into their cargo bay. Walther didn't believe it, and I was coming close. Twice in a month I had survived mysterious attacks by dark, unseen forces, and come out of those attacks alive and whole to tell the tale. Would my luck hold out if this were to happen again? I was not willing to make that bet. Needless to say, we were happy to see the Narns set us into their cargo bay alive and intact...*I* was happy, and almost shocked, to see a badly damaged escape pod from a Starfury in the same bay(the Narns, it seemed, had been out at Loki already...) and the party that showed up to cut us out of our tiny prison contained a member I though dead... And my response went far beyond happiness, eventually... But for the time being, Shipleader G'kael and another individual I'll be talking about in due course were more then content to let the three of us sleep it off for a little while... * * * November 15th, 2258, 0130 hrs..Nighthawk surface... "A mystery?" Mariallah exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "Mr. Robinson, I am tired of mysteries!" "Yes, Ma'am...I understand that. That Narn vessel jumped into the system, went sniffing out towards Falcon moon, found whatever they were looking for, and before we could interdict or any of the ships in orbit could intercept, they jumped again..." "Terrific." she muttered, holding her head. "Barely any contact with Earth, the nearest capital ships over 24 hours away, and a Narn pocket *something* sneaking around with no one able to stop them..." God...too *many* hours awake and counting...I need some sleep *badly*... * * * November 15th...1900 hrs, Loki orbit... "It's here that it happened..." Jennie whispered, as, behind her, William leant the wall, expression dark and inscrutable. "The Shadows...ship was buried on that moon, and we were, all of us, in the wrong place at the wrong time..." "Jennie...stop it." She turned, to have William suddenly take her hands in his. "Isn't it enough that we've...I've survived at least two attacks by those things...and that they failed? We've captured a great victory here...the victory of coming out of this with our lives intact, and finding assistance where we *least* expected it." You just keep on talking, Will...I wanted you out of your shell, and it looks like I might have succeeded... "You're...right, I guess. There isn't any point of going back over this scene of defeat. But now what happens to us?" "Now what indeed.." G'kael interdicted, as he entered the quarters. "I trust that you and the Lieutenant Commander have had the requisite amount of rest and recovery...and that you have eaten well?" "Eaten is a better way of putting it,...ah, G'kael...and I must say, I have yet to have thanked you for what you have done for us here. But...I remind you, sir, Lieutenant Clifford and I are both answerable to the Earth Alliance as officers of its military, and our dissapearance will leave many questions unanswered..." G'kael cut in sharply. "Enough! You must address the matter at hand, Lieutenant Commander, if *I* must force to face it, then I must! You cannot be allowed to forget what has been done to you, to hide behind your words. The young Lieutenant has accepted most of what has occurred here, now you must go beyond partialities to do the same. At this time, I will ask you to join us in the shiproom. Commander Gideon and Zathras are discussing some matters, and Zathras has asked that you join them...he has things to..tell you." "Come on..." she insisted, tugging the now apparently recluctant William behind her. "Let's get this over with...it's time we made up our mind about what we have to do here." * * * Chronicles Log, Interlude... Did I do it on purpose? Absolutely, and I won't apologize for it, either, although I eventually had to find time to apologize to G'kael. The attack by the greatest menace our race was ever to face in that Age only helped to further the process... * * * "Ahh...at last, Zathras told, Zathras was, that you would come. Great Honour to meet. Zathras know you, know what you have done, and do." "Does he...always talk like this?" G'kael nodded, and across the table, Gideon sighed, threw up his hands, and nodded also. "I'm afraid so, Lieuteanant Commander...but Zathras gets the point across of what must be said when it is important...and this may be the most important decision of your life. Zathras nodded impatiently. "Yes...important, Zathras say. Zathras tell tale too many times, no one *ever* listen to Zathras all at same time...tck, tck..get to point, Zathras will. Great Enemy return, this you know, this Observer know, also..." "Ummm...Observer?" Jennie tapped him on the shoulder. "That...would be me, or so Zathras has been implying since G'kael and his crew rescued me on the far side of Loki two days ago." "Why?" "I'm not...quite sure yet, Will..but I've noticed you have a habit of writing things down when the going gets tough.." "Yess..?" "Well...I didn't clue in at first to what Zathras was saying either, but I have my own habit, although rarely practiced since I got into Earthforce. I don't write things down as in a diary per se...but...I COLLECT writings of important events...the whole mess of the war with the Minbari, when Babylon 5 went on line...I'm sure you get the idea..." "So he calls you the Observer...you Observe...okay, Jennie, but what's the point?" "Hhahm, much apologies, but Observer tells tale too well, Zathras is getting to point. You have great task ahead of you, great chase of the truth, events to do, events to make, this Zathras know..." "But..." G'kael cleared his throat. "I will put it plainly, Mr. Highcastle, if you will forgive me for being blunt. Slightly more then a human month ago, you and your dead comrades, may G'quan watch over them all, encountered the Shadows on the Rim. Now, the Shadows come to the world you have been assigned to to reclaim their ship...but intentionally divert one of their vessels to attack a station that means little or nothing to them. What are their aims in this, do you think?" "I have...no idea." No..of course you do not, which is good for the time being. It is enough for you to know that the forces we work with are working to KEEP the secret of the Shadows for the time being. The Shadows have tried to kill you, but their plans are as yet unfinalized, and we do not believe that they will move in such a dramatic fashion again until they well along the path they have set for themselves. This implies...that certain things we know of the Enemy have not changed. If you keep yourself in a low profile and do not actively work to antagonize them, they will forget you for a time. This allows *you* to deal with another problem that we will shortly be discussing, and then...in due course, when EVERYONE is ready to move, *then* we will be working to get their attention again...but NOT until that point is reached, however long it takes. Do you follow me so far, Mr. Highcastle?" * * * Chronicles Log, Interlude... I must admit, in hindsight, that the plan worked. But when I said yes to G'kael and Zathras, it seemed that I had no idea what I was going to be getting myself into. A secret project of enviable designs, with unknown masters and unknown goals...far *more* mysterious then Captain Sheridan's 'Omega Naught' society...a group that I may be using in due course to fulfill certain other goals...but we'll have to see how that goes. G'kael said that eventually I would get the chance to stalk those that tried to kill me...involve myself in the struggle that is to come. But that will have to wait for the time being. Neither Walther nor I like it one bit, but we accepted that decision, and the choice, as being for the best. Zathras called Jennie the Observer, and me the Stalker. Walther he left alone, unnamed...and he's a little concerned about that, I guess. As for I, I'm still working out in my mind what those titles mean, it's going to take a while even if everything goes well. But we made our decison... And now just *look* at the result... * * * "Okay, so let me see if I've got this right, G'kael. The Commander and I will be dropped in the outer reaches of the inner system in our pod, with a *slightly* working transmitter that will eventually attract the attention of those below... *we* have to deal with the repercussions of the Shadow attack, deal with EarthForce on the matter, while at the same time keeping the secrets we've discovered here..." "Precisely, Lieutenant Commander. I did not say it would be easy, but it needs to be done...and Zathras possesses certain instruments that can produce temporary signal blocks in your brains until your dealings with EarthGov are concluded, you will know the information, but you will be unable to convince YOURSELVES to reveal it...a most important distinction, as I'm sure you'll agree. It may be that portions of your government deal with the Shadows, but we cannot confirm this as fact. Be careful in your movements, and you will survive to confront them and their minions...when the time is right." "I wish you didn't have to go..." came a murmur, and he turned, to see Jennie leaning against the doorway behind. "I..follow G'kael's reasoning for what has to be done, but I don't like it. It isn't fair that you and Walther should have to face Earthforce, and that I have to hide until it's over. I...envy you the task ahead, Will..." "Envy? I wouldn't put it that way, Jen, and I don't like that we...NO, I have to act like you're dead until this is over. Zathras and G'kael are asking us to *lie* to our own superior officers. I think you know what the result will be." "Yeah...pretty obvious, eventually. How about this, then...G'kael seems to think it will take at least five of our weeks for you and Walther to get through the grinder and out the other side. I'm giving you an incentive to make it, though. If you can manage, and I'm damn sure you can, I'll be waiting for you at Mandrag's Grill on the Concourse Level at the Transfer Point on Io on New Year's Eve. That gives us plenty of time to get done what has to be done, but there's...something happening between us...I'm not quite sure *what* just yet..." Mandrag's. I'll be damned...she likes her food *wild* apparently... On an impulse, he reached out quickly, took hold of her hand, and gently kissed it...and grinned as her face colored. "A date it is, then." Behind them, Gideon cleared his throat. "Lieutenant Commander..." "William...please." Gideon grinned. Apparently, his thinking on a great many things had changed due to the events just past. Maybe, when all this was over, he would have left his condescending period behind him..."William...it's time we were going." * * * Nov 16th, 2258...morning... "Deploy screen!" Captain Dexter Smith barked, as his command, the EarthForce Omega Class Destoyer AGRIPPA, jumped into Nighthawk system. "From what we can tell, someone or something attacked this colony not too long ago, and they might *still* be here." "Fighters away, sir." his exec, Commander Carlion Melande, announced from the status station. "Defense grid online, ready to fire. Main batteries online...ready to fire." "Excellent. Get me a contact to the surface, Commander, and at the same time, get the comm techs to get a hold of all the ships currently in orbit. Let's try and get a hold on what the situation is, here, as soon as possible!" "Yes, sir." A brief pause. "Contact to colony achieved." "Captain Smith?" "Good day...Doctor Quesotz?" "Yes, sir. We're *very* happy to see you here, sir!" "I imagine that you are, Doctor. From what we've heard, you've gone through a trying time here. Looks like a particularly bad band of raiders hit you, although we'll have to do some checking to be sure." "Yes, sir. I think you should know, sir, that twice in the time since the attack, what appears to have been a Narn pocket warship jumped in and out of the area. The ships in orbit at the time were unable to determine what the Narn vessel was up to..but they were able to confirm that it seemed military in nature." "I see..thank you for that information, Doctor. I assure you that if the Narns appear again, they won't be able to dance around in our space *quite* so easily. And once we know more, we'll be getting back to you." "Thank you, sir!" "Very good. AGRIPPA out." "Captain?" "Yes, Commander?" "Captain, a very faint signal has just started up approximately... 127,000 km this side of Falcon. It...appears to be Earthforce in nature, sir." Smith snorted. "Slipshod work...although these colonial types are probably shaking in their boots after that attack, I suppose we can't blame them. Very well, vector Alphas One and Four towards the source...lets see what we've got out there." "Yes, sir!" * * * "Do you think they've noticed us, William?" "I don't think I'm going to take that bet, Walther." * * * ************************************************************************* Next: The Final part of SHADE AND SHADOW: THE END OF HISTORY! Secrecy! Betrayl! Disguise! 2258 goes out with a bang as Westcastle and Gideon face Earthforce Investigation, and Jennie does her best to deal with being dead... Stay tuned... ************************************************************************* "Mr Ralden" dgg@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca From: "Mr. Ralden" Subject: Rimstalker, Shade and Shadow, Part 4a Date: Tue, 30 Sep 1997 15:31:46 -0600 (MDT) RIMSTALKER: SHADE AND SHADOW, PART 4 "THE END OF HISTORY", PHASE A "You have your orders, General. Return them to Earth, publicly humilate them, and cashier them from the Service. Thereafter, they will no longer be your concern." ** - Remarks attributed to Vice President Morgan Clark near the end of November, 2258 November 16, 2258...EAS AGRIPPA. "Commander, come on in!" Dexter Smith barked, as Commander Walther Gideon warily entered the Captain's office. "It looks to me like you've been through a hell of a ride. Being trapped in that lifepod for, what would it have been, almost forty eight hours, you and the Lieutenant Commander Westcastle must not have enjoyed that at all..." "No, sir...you could say that, I think. In fact, I don't think I would *stop* at the word *enjoy*...sir." "You sound...perturbed about something, Commander." Gideon raised his eyebrows. "Perturbed?...sir, you have *NO* idea. Well over half of my command was destroyed by raiders that we never saw and that no one else did. My entire Starfury squadron, and all but the Lieutenant Commander and myself killed, without warning and without explanation. In the same circumstances, wouldn't YOU be perturbed as well, sir?" Throughout his outburst, Captain Smith's expression had darkened, as Walther could easily see. This was a situation he had never expected to be put into...actively lying to a superior officer. This was, of course, completely unlike him, and he suspected he knew what the result would be of not taking things calmly AND lying to the captain of the AGRIPPA..even *with* Zathra's 'assistance', he was on edge..and it was showing. "Take a seat, Commander." Gideon did. "I will try and put this plainly, since it seems that you and your Operations Officer have demonstrated a sincere lack of the same since coming aboard...and I intend to discover the reason why this is the case. Oh...Hell...here we go... Commander Melande *attempted* to interview you and your officer one on one...and despite your training, you failed to keep your calm...you *failed* to give us any useful information on the matter of this attack and destruction of command...and you FAILED to take this investigation seriously, by the look of it, Commander. Your promotion is fairly fresh...and you've just turned the observations of the selection committee on their collective ear, Commander. I must say that I am not very pleased to see this...and can add that I doubt the Joint Chiefs of Staff will, either." Gideon drew a deep breath. "I..understand your doubts, sir, but I *wish* I could give you more information then I have...but that just doesn't seem to be possible. Lieutenant Commander Westcastle and I were the only survivors of the attack, we were trapped in a lifepod for almost two full standard days, and *sir*, we have no recordings to confirm anything of what happened. I regret that to be the case, sir, but it is." "Very suspicious, Commander...that the station emergency recording devices should have been destroyed, also. It does not appear, to me, that these were ordinary raiders. Events out at Loki confirm this, to a certain degree. The destruction of the orbital refineries was total..and I *do* mean total. Did someone *powerful* covet this system enough to send the equivalent firepower of several ships the size of this one, Commander? How can you *say* with a conscience that you saw nothing, Commander?" Oh *Hell*, we're in for it, now.."I...have no other answer...sir." Captain Smith's face twisted angrily. "On your feet, Commander. That response is unacceptable, both to me and to the higher officers heading this investigation, and it does NOT help that the other man who survived this attack was involved in a similar, far more costly accident that he could not explain, Commander...no, not at all. It is apparent to us all that a degree of inexperience has been displayed here that we did not anticipate when we promoted you. How shall I say it, Commander?...you are in a great deal of trouble." "I..." "You have *not* been given permission to speak, Commander. This is what will happen. The Joint Chiefs of Staff have ordered you returned to Earth...this we will do. Another set of officers will be assigned to Nighthawk to clean up your mess...they are enroute aboard the DELPHEI as I speak. The AGRIPPA will return you to Earth, where Special Investigations will conclude their investigation of the matter. I do not know what the result of that investigation will be, but I doubt things will be well for you or your career after this is concluded, Commander! You are dismissed." * * * Chronicles Log, Entry VIII, November 18th, 2258...(remembrances) How shall I say this, and put it plainly. The saying goes, "Once it's an accident, twice it will hang you." That had certainly been the case at Nighthawk...and it looked at the time as if things would only get worse before they got better. I heard from Walther some time ago about the tongue lashing he received from Captain Smith...similar to the one *I* received from Commander Melande. In any case, once the destroyer DELPHEI jumped in to continue the investigation, the AGRIPPA and all aboard her jumped for Earth...where I am now, awaiting the final, inevitable result of the Earthforce investigation. We still have a significant amount of time remaining before the debate concludes...but the end result of that voyage, and the repercussions of the two, vicious attacks by the Enemy on my companion, dear friend, and I are now coming to fruition, as inevitable as an asteroid. Which, of course, was the whole point. What happened at Nighthawk changed three lives drastically. Whether for the better or worse I can not yet say. Walther and I will face up to our destiny with a straight face...and keep our mouths shut regardless about the things we know. Zathra's actions will save us from that fate, at least... * * * November 24th, 2258...On the Rim... "A message just came in on Gold Channel, sir. I think..you should see it, sir." "Thank you, Lieutenant Commander." Oh Hell...now what?? * * * November 29th, 2258..on the Narn/Earth Frontier... With barely repressed shudder, Jennie ran her hand over the finely buzzed *blonde* hair on the back of her head. She had *never*, ever, had her hair this short before...even in her years with Earthforce, she had kept it tied up in the various modes that the Service allowed...but *now*...things had changed... Now, she was a new woman...and, according to the records attributed at Nighthawk by Walther and William...a dead woman. And so, G'kael had practically *ordered* her to change her appearance. And so, she had, under duress, had her hair finely crewcut by one of his crew(where they had gotten the electroclipper from was something she *didn't* want to know) and perma-changed her hair colour. If that *wasn't* enough, now she wore a scar on her left cheek, as well, courtesy of Mr. 'much apologies but do what we must' Zathras! G'kael insisted that it would fade in a matter of months...but for right now, it just made her look *far* too sinister for her own satisfaction. And, on top of the rest, a *costume* that only added to her new image of the frontier starpilot from hell... A chuckle from behind made her jump. "A fine distinction from your previous appearance..." G'kael drawled. "Fine enough to fool anyone who doesn't know you too well. N'rothak has been working late into the sleep periods getting your paperwork ready...but now, Jennifer Clifford, you must do the rest yourself...take on your new identity, as required... and...the rest, of course." She whirled angrily. "Oh yes, G'kael!...musn't forget that, even *after* Zathras ran off with the rest of his friends at the rendezvous point, without explanation, without even telling us where he was going!" "Unnecessary. Zathras does what he must...when he must." G'kael cleared his throat. "However...enough of that. It is time that we parted ways for a time...Miss...Zandar, shall we say?" Celia Zandar. Her best friend in her youth...killed in the Earth-Minbari War...and now she inherited the name, as was just. Not for vengeance...she would find the reason for the first...but for action. If only to Observe... "Of course. The ship is ready?" G'kael smiled. "Absolutely. Our mutual friends just delivered it in the last half cycle. We have heard that William and Walther have reached Earth, and that the investigation and inquiry are ongoing. It is enough that you can approach and reunite with them from an unexpected direction. From this moment forward, your path is your own...Observer. Do not dissapoint those who have given you this chance." She shivered. Not likely. "Then I must be going...and I have to get a cargo. Always thought I would be following Dad in his footsteps one day..." * * * ************************************************************************* Next: The inquiry concludes...Jennie arrives at Io to meet Westcastle and Gideon. The date...New Year's Eve...2258. ************************************************************************* "Mr Ralden" dgg@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca From: "Mr. Ralden" Subject: Rimstalker, Shade and Shadow, Part 4b Date: Fri, 3 Oct 1997 10:39:08 -0600 (MDT) MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII ***************************************************************************** A long one...but more then worth it. Threads wrapped up, and a whole bunch of new doors opened up... ***************************************************************************** RIMSTALKER: SHADE AND SHADOW, PART 4 "THE END OF HISTORY", PHASE B ** "What happened at the transfer point at Io that fateful New Year's Day would be a harsh catalyst for all that followed. Plans hidden within plans hidden behind false faces would all come out in the end...for all those who did the planning, mostly for the worse..." ** Erica Travers: "Wars of Deception" * * * December 4th, 2258...Earthdome... Face stony, General Ranford Lea entered the hearing room allotted to a situation best kept quiet. Higher powers then he wanted to think about had passed down the orders, and Lea was a good soldier...he always had been, and it had always been the way of good soldiers to follow their orders...regardless of *where* the orders came from... With a snap, the guards came to attention, and the twin focuses of the hearing rapidly did the same. Unfortunate, really..they had been good officers, more or less...but fate...or something worse...had finally caught up to those two men. "I regret that it's turned out this way, gentlemen..." Lea remarked, as below him, Commander Gideon and Lieutenant Commander Westcastle looked up at the stand, faces inscrutable, from their positions of attention. "But the facts don't lie...they never do, it seems. Now that the inquiry at Nighthawk has concluded, the Captains of the AGRIPPA and the DELPHEI have forwarded their final reports on the matter to Earthdome. There are a number of points I want to go over with you before I announce the verdict of the Investigations board. I trust that you are openminded enough to follow these points of procedure?" Lea got the response he expected within seconds, nodded his head, and continued. "Very good...take a seat, then...gentlemen. Things weren't QUITE severe enough to make this a courtmartial, but a couple of the Chiefs of Staff WERE willing to go that far, so you may as well expect the comment I'm about to make..you're getting off easily, gentlemen. One: Lieutenant Commander William Westcastle, that would be YOU, son, within a period of slightly more then one month serving in the capacity of Operations Officer, was involved in two events near to or on the Rim, wherin he failed to act in saving any of his crews other then, in the second case, his Commanding Officer. We were willing to give you one chance, but twice in that time period is excessive in our opinion. I don't believe in bad luck, hense, you COULD have prevented some of those deaths. You failed to do so. Two: Lieutenant Commander Westcastle insists that in both cases he saw nothing of the raiders who attacked his commands. This is unlikely, and shows poor observational judgement. Three: Commander Walther Gideon, that would be YOU, similarly failed in his duty of protection of Earthforce resources and personnel. The loss of Nighthawk station and the majority of Nighthawk's Starfury squadron to Raider attack is unacceptable, and shows a great lack of finesse in planning and execution of missions. Commander Gideon also failed to control Lieutenant Commander Westcastle's actions, a reflection of his own actions as Nighthawk CO. Four: In sworn testimonies, both of you indicate that your lifepod was NOT intercepted by a Narn pocket warship known to be in the vicinity of Nighthawk and its moon shortly following the raider attack. Additionally, neither of you recall seeing the vessel from your lifepod during that period...EXCEPT you should have. So...either you are lying, or you're partially blind, or both. I could prove the first if I wished, but I think we all know where things are going here. So, let's get to the meat of things here, shall we, gentlemen? It is the finding of the inquiry board that due to the lack of observation and judgement in two situations where a great deal of life and equipment could have been saved...and wasn't. You have both been charged with deriliction of duty, and per Earthforce Regulations, it behooves us to keep you away from where you have demonstratably done the most damage. You have two options available to you...and I rather expect the one you will take. Option One: You will both take demotions in rank and position...and these demotions will likely be permament; you will be denied deep-space duty of any kind for the remainder of your careers. This means you will be Earthbound for the forseeable future. I trust that this will NOT be the choice you will make, gentlemen. Option Two...the one I *expect* you to take. Both of you will be given the option of resigning from the service." Lea pointed, and his adjutant, just arrived in the chamber, presented a compupad to both of the officers. "Make it clean, gentlemen...break from your streak of fate while you can...because I..." Lea stopped, and inclined his eyebrow in surprise. Both Commander Gideon and Lieutenant Commander Westcastle had just signed their careers away...with him still in the early stages of arguing them into it! Fair enough..it usually, in these situations, took a great deal of cajoling for such to happen. Interesting that that hadn't been the case here...but done was done. "Thank you, gentlemen. You've both made the right choice, and I assure you, these incidents will have no noticable effects on such civilian careers as you choose to take in the future. However...I *do* suggest that you make your way off world as soon as possible. Certain...higher powers are especially displeased with you both at the moment." "Duly noted, sir." Commander Gideon smartly replied, a strained look in his eyes. "What we...both expected, after the events of the past few days." "Of course. Commander Barnes will take you the rest of the way through the release procedure. If you will follow him?" As one, the two just released Earthforce officers came to attention, and saluted. Face grim, Lea did the same, and turned to depart. Done was done... * * * Dec 7, 2258...Proxima III... Jennie gazed down, more or less serenely, on what she had wrought in the past week or so of owning the STARDANCER(a far too lovely name for the thirty year old piece of junk that G'kael and his allies had lent her, but it did the job) and inhabiting her new identity, wrought by those self-same allies and the crew of the N'blis. There were enough billion humans in the galaxy by now that one less or one more was sometimes missed, if the information could be manipulated properly. And so, she found herself here in Proxima orbit, loading a cargo of processed ores slated for delivery to the Earthforce Jovian shipyards...among *other* cargos, smaller but just as important, slated for a few destinations between here and there. Contracts like these one were a dime a dozen in Alliance space. But it was *exactly* what she needed, for now. "Cargo aboard and secured." the crisp voice of the loader tech announced, as below the STARDANCER, the long atmospheric transfer shuttle detached and began to pull away on a return to surface vector. "You are cleared for thrust, STARDANCER." "Acknowledged." she replied, and keyed in to Proxima Gate control, as she twisted her vessel in midflight and vectored in on the quadruple prong of the gate, several tens of thousands of kilometers above. "Proxima Gate, this is Captain Zandar of the STARDANCER, my cargo is loaded, requesting clearance to jump." "This is Proxima.." the controller drawled from below. "Status noted, gate is clear. You are cleared for jump." "Thank you, Proxima...STARDANCER out." Jennie relaxed as all too slowly, the Proxima gate began to grow in the forward viewport. That stage of the subterfuge was now over and done with. Now she had a REASON to be in Earth system at the appropriate time...and, more importantly to her, at the appropriate place. As the gate flared and sucked her ship in, her primary thought in the matter was very clear... I may be 'Dead', William, but for damn *sure* I haven't forgotten your promise.... * * * Dec 8, 2258...Earth Alliance Space Station Babylon 5...The Alien Sector... G'kael frowned, as, around him, the methane gases of the Alien Sector flowed in long straying wisps. All was going according to plan, and yet, in the few times he had been summoned to this place, the nervousness had not yet abated. Admitedly he was higher in the organization then many others, but this meant nothing as of yet, for no pieces had yet been played...all were trapped in the throes of preperation. For now. A moving bulk of shadow drew his attention, and G'kael raised his eyes to see the bulk resolve itself into the encounter suit of Kosh Naranek, the Ambassador of the Vorlon Empire. G'kael bowed. "It is as you have said, Ambassador. The pieces are in place, the players are responding as anticipated." As always, the Vorlon response was musical, tonal...and sent shivers crawling up G'kael's back. "##The need will guide them##." "If you...say so...Ambassador. I..initially felt it less then likely that the plan would work." "##Doubts do not concern us. In the fires of their undoing will the song be heard##." G'kael smiled. "Of course, Ambassador." The Vorlon's 'eye' narrowed. "##*You* doubt us?##" "No, Ambassador!" What brought *that* on? "##Good. Go. Now.##." With that, the Vorlon turned away, and G'kael let out a long breath. So be it, to get away from Kosh that easily was a blessing in itself... * * * Dec 9, 2258...Earth...North American Sector... "So..." Charles Westcastle barked, turning his good eye on his only son, "Trouble finally caught up with you, did it? I'm not terribly surprised, William...dissapointed, yes...but not surprised. Seems a terrible run of bad luck to have brought you to this end." Walther watched impassively as his companion gritted his teeth and prepared to respond. More then half a week they had spent extracting themselves from Earthforce, fulfilling Form Y and signing on Line X, and now it came down to explaining the situation to their families, possibly the hardest part of it all. Fair enough...G'kael had implied that this would be hard, but this was the hardest part of all. He had faced his own father slightly more then twenty four hours in the past and attempted, and failed, to convince him of his side of the story. They only saw the worst of what had happened...rumour, and the media, saw to that. "Think of it what you will, Dad...none of what happened was my fault. There are forces out there on the edge of our space that defy explanation, and we came up against those forces...*I* came up against them, and survived their attack. We don't have to like it...but Walther and I came away with our lives, Dad...isn't that enough?" The elder Westcastle snorted. "Easy for you to say, now I have to put up with the comments from the rest of the family..all the ones who were so proud to see you get through the Academy...receive assignment to a deep space command, in a position that MEANT something. Now what do we have, son? Discreditation, humilation..." "Dad...you've got to stop this." "Hah!...you understand *nothing*! It's easy for you to say those things, William...it's less easy for me to live around what you've created." Walther watched William slowly exhale another, long, breath. "Fine...I guess it's time we were leaving, then. No use in me staying around to make the situation worse...or convince you otherwise." "You're leaving...right. So where will you go, son?" The elder Westcastle's voice remained as harsh as a grate. "You have to earn a living, after all!" "Io...for starters..and then outsystem to the colonies. It's no good me staying around here, Dad...Earth has no draw at the moment, and we'll only get political pressure from the higher-ups, as our superiors noted...they don't like to see failures out in the open, as I'm sure you know." "Hmm..yes. There is that...Babylon place, too, you know." "A possibility, I'll agree...but enough. I've taken up enough of your time, Dad, you've got your life to live, too....." * * * Chronicles Log, Entry IX, (realtime) December 10, 2258... I write this from the antiquated comfort of a cross-system transport. At the moment, we are almost out of Earth space, heading for Io, which we hope to reach sometime around Christmas Day. It's been a hell of a few weeks, but I finally have time again to write down a few thoughts. The break we made with our families, with Earthforce, almost with everything we know, has to have been for the best...there must be SOMETHING to show for this thing that we've done...to show us that Zathras and G'kael are right about this. Is it enough to know that the Enemy is out there...waiting, planning, getting ready for their first move, whatever and whenever that will be? Is it enough to say that we are part of a movement beginning to counter that threat? A threat that almost NOBODY knows about? Is it enough to go on the promise I made to Jennie over a month ago, to meet her, to hold hard to what we're building on?...a bridge between someone dedicated to finding the truth behind the lies, and another dedicated to viewing the passage of history, and collecting the results? It has to be enough... It has to be. * * * Two Weeks later...near the Jovian jump gate... Silent, alone, the Earth Alliance Jovian transfer point orbited silently through the massively charged environment of the Jovian magnetic field, and was unaffected by it. A technology older then the human race would not be affected by something as paltry as electromagnetism, and the vast array of ship activity plying the routes above Jupiter's ocher clouds only proved that the race operating the gate was agressively utilizing that technology to its own ends. All of a sudden, sensors chimed in on the nearby Transfer point station, and deep, searing flashes ran alone the tines of the gate, as the Quantium-40 nodes on the tines readied, and then pushed their rift through into hyperspace. As sudden as that, the blue-shifted wormhole reared open, and spat out a tiny, by relative scale, dilapatated freighter... * * * "Uggh." Jennie muttered, as the Jovian cloudscape span into being, Io ahead and below, and the two of the four remaining Galilean moons ahead and outwards. "Wild ride." Enough jumps for a while, girl, she told herself, keying in the comm system. "Transfer station, Transfer station, this is the freighter STARDANCER, out of Proxima III, with cargo for the EarthForce yards at Io. Request vectoring to unloading station and return course to dock at transfer station, over." "This is Io Control, STARDANCER, your request is authorized. Proceed into vectored orbit layer 50 Jovian relative for intercept to Earthforce unloading facility. Return course will be authorized upon departure from above location..over." "Thanks, Io Control...STARDANCER out." Well...that seemed relatively simple...maybe I'll actually get to be someplace I can enjoy Christmas for once... Too bad there's nobody to enjoy it with yet... * * * December 29th, 2258...Io Transfer Station...Concourse... "Took long enough to get here." Gideon commented, as Westcastle disembarked onto the Concourse behind him. "What a lovely way to spend Christmas...on a transport half way between here and there, and detoured half way out the beyond just to make sure we don't interfere with our dear President's touring procession." "Relax about the tour, Walther. We're here on a mission, as I'm sure you realise. A certain young lady we made a bargain with had better be here by now." "She will be." Walther sighed, and looked around the bustle of the station corridors. If you looked far enough along the corridor, you could easily see the curve of the torus, running inward to the node above their heads. Spin gravity always seemed to give him a headache, for some reason. Earthforce personnel far outnumbered anyone else on the station, but transfer points *were* transfer points, and you could find shopkeepers anywhere people met and passed through...and one of those businesses had operated on the Concourse at Io ever since the station had opened, and become famous as a result, especially for surviving the Minbari War. That place was Mandrag's Grill...and a sorrier, but more interesting spot, was rare to find. Food from all across the known galaxy...if you were brave enough to try it, that is... "She said she'd be here." William continued, his newly bought longcoat flowing in the slight breeze of the station's conditioning system. "Four hours, centred on 1200...so where..." "Hello, stranger.." a whispered voice called from behind, and William whirled...with Walther just behind him..and Walther just about lost it at that point. G'kael had warned them Jennie wouldn't look the same as she had, but this...well. From leather boots to fibercomp jacket to buzzed blonde hair *and* a scar??!? on her cheek, Jennie it was, but whadda change.. Go get her, Will... He did. * * * Chronicles Log, Interlude... Celia Zandar, she said. I'm Celia Zandar...remember that, where those who can here us can. I'm Celia Zandar. Okay...fine...Christmas came late this year....! * * * Jan 1, 2259...the end of the Beginning... "Wake up. You missed most of the party." "Wha..." Jennie smiled, and drew the covers more tightly around herself. Over their heads, a portal faced outwards to the stars, and against those stars, the commerce of the Jovian system danced its stately dance. Back together at last...and Will had more then made up for the seperation in the last few days. It had been worth it, in her eyes... "C'mon, Will, wake up!...we'll miss the arrival of Earth Force 1 if we don't hurry." "Uh huh...ye.." Fool. She reached over for the glass of champagne on the nightstand... And then... A flare of light flashed against the covers...and then became an inferno of light. Startled, Jennie looked up into the portal...and gasped. Deep against the ocean of stars...a bloom of fire spread. A bloom of...destruction? What the...no... It couldn't be... At the door to their tiny quarters, a urgent chime sounded. Hastefully, not withstanding William's sudden start, she leapt to the floor, throwing clothes on in haste. "Yes?" "'Celia'." Walther's voice spoke urgently...emotionally...through the link. "Get up....get Will up...right *now*. We've got a problem... hell, no, the whole *Alliance* has a problem!" "What? It's...that explosion..." No way... "Not just..an explosion...worse..ah hell..." At that point, Walther lost his cool. "Earth Force One...I just heard...it's station wide, on the link. Earth Force One...just... ...Blew Up." As simple as that...and sharper then daggers. Jennie's hand went numb...and seconds later, the glass of champagne shattered against the deck.... * * * Chronicles Log...2258...Final Entry. So in the beginning did we see ourselves as knowing it all, and in the end we proved nothing of the sort. In a year where the Enemy nearly killed me twice and the President of the Earth Alliance killed on what should have been a day of happiness for us all...where do we go next..what do we do next? It is clear enough that no one is safe. It is clear enough that everything is changing...and that everything will be changed by what has happened. I am trying not to be emotional about this, but it is *hard*. If this was an accident...then may Luis Santiago rest in peace. If not, then God help those who have done this...and preserve them from those of us who know something of the truth. For we will not stop until the truth is revealed and action taken...and we will stalk them down wherever they be...and end the lies. So I swear. * * * In the darkness, a man laughed. It was done...over at last. Those who might have threatened him destroyed or humbled, banished from his sight. He held the power..at last! ************************************************************************** ** "They spoke down from above, and cast down on us the boon of pursuit and watchfulness. Beliefs we knew not...compassion we knew not, and in the hinterlands, at the focus, the path found us, not us the path. In the darkness between the void, we knew the terror of what was to come...faced it, and saw our destiny. Pawns they saw us as... but pawns with the fury of swords. In the fires of the deep, we endured the hopelessness of greed, and accepted what was to be. As a circle has no end, so would we start at the beginning and return to the end, and break the cycle forever. And in the arms of another, there would we find the only candles still burning in the darkness..." ** From "The Book of the Observer" as published in the Mid 26th Century, Earth Reckoning *************************************************************************** Next: RIMSTALKER II: DESTINY'S CALL ushers in the Earth Year 2259 for the Rimstalker, the Observer and their companion, Walther Gideon, as they arrive at that place where all roads end...Earth Alliance Space Station Babylon 5...and find that their arrival has been anticipated by certain higher powers... EUPHRATES CALLING, coming soon to a computer screen near you... *************************************************************************** "Mr Ralden" @ dgg@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca