From: dgolding@connect.ab.ca Subject: STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS Date: Sun, 10 Jan 1999 23:08:12 Those that have seen A CALL TO ARMS will understand that a new saga is dawning. The tale of a CRUSADE...the story of a starship named EXCALIBUR, and of a desperate mission to save a doomed world. But what is not known is that another story also begins shortly before this...a story of another ship, a ship designed by a Minbari some name mad; a Minbari helped by a human engineer, shunned by the rest of his race for the choices he has made... * * * "This is *their* legacy." "The legacy of a Millenium...a legacy of jealousy and hate." "And against that hate...we walk!" "As I have walked, in the footsteps of giants." * * * And against the hate of a race named the Drakh, the President of the Interstellar Alliance, John J. Sheridan, makes what may be his most *desperate* gamble, as he sends the crew of the EXCALIBUR on their mission, in the hope that a cure can be found among the worlds of the galaxy. But what cannot be forgotten is that while the Drakh who attacked Earth may have failed in their objective to destroy the planet, the Drakh, as a race, are still out there... * * * "They taught me, as I will teach them..." "And as we will lead them...because we must; because, if Earth is to survive, we have to attempt the impossible..." "In this, the Earth Year Twenty-two Sixty-seven." * * * But Sheridan has one final ace up his sleeve, a even more desperate ploy, if that is possible. For if the EXCALIBUR and her crew are destroyed, what hope does Earth have? To prevent this, a ship that cannot be seen will walk in the fires of its own undoing. A doctor will watch the other side of his race's soul sicken, and work desperately to halt the dark tide. A telepath will attempt to make up for the crimes of her past, and throw herself willingly in harm's way to achieve this end. A woman of Brakir, striving to escape from her own past, will, in spite of herself, write a chapter in history that her race will never be able to forget. A Minbari pledged to protect another may have to lay down his own life to do so. A Drazi seeking to change the destructive history of his race will follow his captain even unto Death to make the point final. While a woman of the Anla'shok, guided by a prophecy older then her race, and touched by both Technomage and Vorlon, will lead them all into the unknown. Whether it will be to victory or to destruction, is as yet unclear... * * * "We are the Rangers of the SHARD OF NIGHT; we walk in the dark places no others will enter." "This is *our* Story." * * * AS DARKNESS FALLS, the prologue to STAR AND CIRCLE. Starting in one week's time. dgolding@connect.ab.ca From: dgolding@connect.ab.ca Subject: STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS, Part 1 Date: Tue, 19 Jan 1999 17:33:26 And so it begins...again! The time has come to begin something that will, all being well, last for the next five years or so. STAR AND CIRCLE is looking like it's going to be *far* more ambitious then the RIMSTALKER was...and difficult, due to the fact that I am planning to write the story more or less in real time, as I watch CRUSADE unfold. This, on top of writing episodes of as well, means that boredom is not exactly going to be a problem for the next little while (insert the word 'year(s)', as appropriate). And having seen A CALL TO ARMS earlier then I could have previously imagined...here the prologue is! Of course, due to those basketball-type people, I must, for now, be content with setting things up for what will follow... As always, usual disclaimers apply, as per the previous stalk across JMS's wonderful universe. JMS's characters, past and yet to be, belong to him. Any invention of mine is for my pleasure and yours, and can be used as List writers see fit (although it would be nice if you asked...) The timeline for AS DARKNESS FALLS is the year and a half leading up to the events seen at the *end* of A CALL TO ARMS, and maybe a week or so, afterwards. Very *minor* spoilers for A CALL TO ARMS in Part I, far worse ones to come, in Part's VI and beyond. Without further ado, then, let the trials and tribulations commence... * * * STAR AND CIRCLE: "AS DARKNESS FALLS" PART I "Do you want to know how it began, and where? In such a simple manner, as you will see...but simplicities, as we all understand, can so rapidly become complexities..." * * * Interstellar Alliance Experimental Shipyard Number One. Mid August, 2265. It was, in his opinion, the worst task he had yet been given...but as always, Varsak had the final word. Varsak had been the one, beyond all expectations, who had invited him into Minbari space to work on this project, less then two standard years before. Varsak, the one responsible for introducing him to concepts and technologies a hundred generations beyond anything his kind could emulate. Varsak, the sometimes smiling, mostly scowling Minbari, who had introduced him to a new world. And Varsak who had also, quite bluntly, after he had accepted the offer to join the otherwise all-Minbari design team, told him that there was now no going back on his word. That while there was certainly something...*special* about him, ordinarily, they would not have chosen a human to help them. But this unique quality, a quality that none of them, as of yet, had had the grace to tell him about (but what was new in that...they *were* Minbari, after all) would not keep him alive, if word of this project was to find its way into the hands of the Earth Alliance government. For they would *know* who would be responsible, if such a thing were to occur; and what happened *thereafter* would NOT be pleasant...and did he understand this? He nodded grimly; he had understood *all* too well the meaning of those words. But now, the construction and testing phase was just about complete!...and the task he had been promised, from the beginning, was about to come to pass. For that, and that alone, the patient wait, the servitude, *and* the silence had all been worthwhile. In any case, that government was busy at the moment with other matters, and greater concerns. They would not notice what was going on here, because the Telepath Crisis (almost a *war* now) overruled all other situations in its importance, for the time being. Dawson smiled grimly; Varsak had allowed him to escape that madness, a madness that would burn itself out eventually, one way, or the other. For that, he would thank him; for now, however, it was, perhaps for the last time, time to deal with *that* man... The man, in his opinion, who did not deserve to run as important a project as this one would eventually end up being. "When are *they* due to arrive?" Samuel Drake demanded, his expression its usual mix of superiority and possessiveness. "They are *late*, Mr. Dawson; I am disappointed!...in this *admittedly* simple matter, we have been expecting better performance then... *This*. You *assured* us that they would be on time!" "You must have *patience*, Drake..." Nicholas Dawson replied, as he strode up beside his supervisor to look out on the shipyard, and the all important, half-built starships contained within. "I received a message from them not more then ten standard minutes ago..." "And?" "They left from the waypoint near Minbar slightly behind schedule; that is all. My superior, Chief Engineer Varsak, informed me that there has been a problem with the gravimetric stabilizers..." "I trust the problem has been corrected, then?" Drake replied, a scowl close to forming on his face. "We *need* to know if the ideas that you and your Minbari comrades have been trying out are at *all* feasible, and whether or not those ideas can be applied to our ships, out there! If they do *not* return in the next hour...if there are *more* unforseen complications...it may set the ENTIRE project behind schedule. That cannnot be allowed, Dawson. The President and his Advisory Board will not stand for it." "You worry *far* too much, Drake." he replied, keeping a smile on his face (though, occasionally, with Drake, it was sometimes *so* difficult...the man could be maddening). "The problems they discovered with the hybrid systems are being corrected as we speak...and the design *is* a sound one, as I have *repeatedly* explained to you, for weeks, now. We are, in the end, as I have said *before*, dealing with what is esentially a variant on an already tried-and-true design, the Minbari 'White Star' light cruiser...very few things were expected to go wrong during the test run, even with as *unique* a variant as this starship ended up being." "Yes..." Drake murmured, his gaze now far away from the here and now, "You did tell us that, didn't you? Pity we won't be able to utilize this testbed approach for much longer, though, Dawson; I was...hoping to keep moving in this vein for at least another six months..." Inwardly, he snorted...yeah, *right*...but spending time among the Minbari had taught him certain restraint, so his face showed none of this. "Unfortunately, Drake, all things *and* all stages in projects must eventually come to an end. Once we're sure that the limited principles test as envisioned is a success, our design *must* move on to perform its assigned duties...and *you* may proceed with the full systemics installation on the EXCALIBUR and the VICTORY, which is, after all, your real purpose in working out here, isn't it?" "Yes, *but*..." "*Additionally*, the use that the Rangers will be putting this ship to is a good one...and follows a tradition laid down by human, and even some Minbari engineers, over the last few centuries. Some of the best projects known have been *black* projects, and while the White Star Fleet has moved openly for years now, serving the interests of the Alliance, it seems, shall we say, *prudent*, for there to be a more secret, and *vastly* more powerful Alliance warship, or warships, moving behind the scenes, working on behalf of the more covert divisions within the Ranger hierarchy... Although, of course, nowhere *near* in the same league as your 'babies', out there..." Drake snorted. "You give speeches amazingly well, for an engineer, Dawson." "Their High Councillor, Westcastle, was remarkably persuasive in his views, sir, when he visited us, three months ago, to discuss the purported use for our design. And I understand that he and the President are close; hence, it seems that what Westcastle wants, Westcastle usually *gets*..." "Military politicians; the worst of the lot, in my opinion." "Perhaps." Privately, though, he snickered. What a *fool*. And then, a warning chime alerted him, and he turned, to observe (as expected) a section of nearspace flash-twist, and then spring open into the familiar blue spiral of a jump point, out of which came a lithe, dark gray, ever-so-deadly and familiar shape. And what a design is was, he marvelled, as the just arrived starship matched velocities with the station, and quickly came to absolute rest. There would, in all likelihood, never be another like it, if what Varsak had told him, was true; but that did not matter, because in the end...if a White Star was a hawk... Then *this* ship could end up being tbe the finest eagle that ever flew...until the completion of the EXCALIBUR's, that was...and maybe, not even then! With a now-genuine smile on his face, he turned back towards the still grumpy Drake. "There, Drake...you see? Just as I said." "Well, *they* had better appreciate all the work that's been done for them, putting that ship together." came the reply, as the Project Head of the Advanced Destroyer Project abruptly turned away, intent on other business now that this particular worry was done away with. "They'd *better*..." he whispered, turning back towards the viewport, to gaze once more on the ship he's helped to build, silouetted against the distant stars. "Or they'll be hearing from me on the matter... "In more ways then one." * * * Early September, 2265...Interstellar Alliance Headquarters, Minbar. "Mr. President." Theresa Halloran bluntly began, as she strode into the office of John J. Sheridan, President of the Interstellar Alliance, "Please forgive me if I come straight to the point. As you no doubt understand, due to the current situation in the Earth Alliance, my time here is limited, and having to set aside days from that schedule to make this trip to Minbar doesn't make things *any* easier. In your recent message to Babylon 5, you managed, as usual, to say a lot without saying *anything* at all, excepting the fact that unless a major galactic crisis were to happen in the interim, I should make best possible speed for ISA headquarters. Well, *here I am*, Mr. President. Do you want to maybe be a *little* less mysterious, now?" "My apologies, Ms. Halloran..." John Sheridan replied, his gaze more serious then it had been the last few times they had met. "But what I have to say to you could not be shared over *any* channel, open or otherwise, and this matter even overrules our concerns related to the Earth Alliance Telepath Crisis, unbelievable as that may sound." "Alright...*now* you've got my attention." The President nodded grimly. "As an additional precaution, this office has now been sealed against any and all surveilance methods known to the Minbari...which should, in my opinion, just about cover the whole spectrum of those who *might* be trying to listen in on our conversation." "I see; this would be serious, then..." "Serious, yes, but don't get the impression this is bad news...it certainly *isn't* that. But before we continue, let me ask you a question... what is your current assessment of the secrecy surrounding our Advanced Destroyer Project?" "The way you've set it up, Mr. President, no one who doesn't know about it *now* is going to find out *anything* until they're ready to be unveiled." Sheridan smiled at that...and once again, she saw how fast he had aged over the past several years. There had been a time, not so long ago, when his hair and beard had been dark; but now, the silver in that beard was *rapidly* becoming predominant; not that this wasn't to be expected...he had been through so *much* over the last ten years...and *especially* in the last five. "Exactly! But as it turns out, there are other projects afoot within the Alliance that make the secrecy I ordered placed on the Destroyer project look almost...simple. In fact, before three days ago, even *I* didn't know about the matter we will *shortly* be discussing..." This was going to get *irritating* in a hurry, she decided...although, she *knew* that the President occasionally enjoyed this sort of wild goose chase. And since *he* hadn't known about it, that meant only one thing. "From that comment, may I assume this...*project* is of Minbari inception?" "You may." "And since *that* is true, the individual responsible for alerting you about the 'matter' would, therefore, have been Delenn." Sheridan ruefully nodded. "Every once in a while, you remind me of the reason I gave you your job, Ms. Halloran. As you know, Delenn's had a *lot* of practice, over the years, at keeping secrets...but now the ball's in my court, I need to decide what we should do about this; and what do you know?...it's time for the little tour I planned. Time to go for a walk..." "A...tour?" she exclaimed. "Mr. President! *Forgive* me if I'm falling a little bit behind the power curve, here, but what *exactly* are we talking about here? A...ship of some sort?" "Follow and learn, Ms. Halloran..." was Sheridan's only reply, as the President briskly strode out of his office, leaving her only one option. "Follow and learn..." "Follow, *where*?" she demanded, as she caught up with Sheridan a short time later, beneath the blazing Minbari sun. "Look up." was his reply, and she did...oh, how *typical*. So intent had she been on catching up to the President that she hadn't thought as to the matter of transportation. Above them, a winged Minbari craft hung, and even as she watched, a circle at the base of the craft began to glow...matching an all-too similar circle around their feet... "The ride gets *interesting* from here on in." Sheridan confided, a broad grin now on his face. "You've *got* to be kidding..." "Relax...this is perfectly safe. The first time that Delenn and I did this, she told me that the Minbari have had this technology for almost a thousand years..." "*Right*. And that's supposed to make me feel better?" * * * Shortly thereafter, and in a shorter time then she would have believed possible, the winged Minbari craft had achieved orbit. And as usual, Tessa could *not* escape from the fly-on-the-wall feeling their visual technology always gave her. The President and her were standing alone, in one of their holographic 'viewing' chambers...unfortunately, this meant, for all intents and purposes, that to all visual purposes, there didn't appear to be any walls... Or a floor, for that matter. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" she muttered, as the vast northern icecap of Minbar swung below them, half in, and half out of night, and partly in shadows. "I don't have *any* idea what you're talking about, Ms. Halloran..." the President replied, a look of combined surprise and amusement on his face (yeah, right...). "I've always enjoyed how this lets me get out and away from it all...but if you prefer, we can bring the floor back." And back it was, to her relief. "But let me finally come to the point of bringing you here...the reason we've come up over the north pole of Minbar. The Minbari have recently given the Alliance what amounts to one *Hell* of a gift...a ship which, while it won't compare in sheer firepower and complexity to the Advanced Destroyers we're building, is certainly far more then equal to anything else its size in the local galactic region..." At that, she turned sharply. "If this new class of Minbari ship is so powerful, why not simply build a fleet of them, like the White Stars, Mr. President?" "That would be an easy way out, wouldn't it? To build bigger and better ships until no one can stand against you. No, it is *precisely* for that reason that the Minbari insisted the numbers of this class be *extremely* limited...but there is another reason, as well. As you will soon see, this new ship isn't all that big, no more then about twice the size of a White Star...but the cost? It cost them *more* to build this prototype then it does to build one of their *full-sized* war cruisers." Now this was *really* starting to sound interesting. "I...see. And why is that, exactly?" "You'll see, soon enough. As a matter of fact, we've almost reached the docking orbit...if you look closely, right over *there*, you should be able to see *her*..." She followed the President's finger, but all she could see was stars and the blackness of space. "You'll forgive me, Mr. President, but I don't..." And then, she did. "Oh, my *God*." "That's *one* way of putting it, I suppose." Sheridan turned away for a moment. "This is President Sheridan on Flyer ZHAUDRA; we are on final approach...I'm going to *assume* you gentlemen are ready for the tour?" "Greetings to you, as well, Mr. President." a cultured, obviously Minbari voice returned. "The Rangers and crew of Vi'dalae An'Shaka await the visit of you and your companion, Director Theresa Halloran; we stand ready for your arrival." "Glad to hear it; Sheridan out." "Ah...Vi'dalae An'Shaka?...Mr. President?" Sheridan smiled...a little grimly, now. "It's a Minbari name, Ms. Halloran...an old and distuinguished one. In our language, it can best be translated... as SHARD OF NIGHT." * * * Sector 91 by 7 by 14... "They just never learn, do they?" "Indeed not, Observer. It is the way of Raiders; knock them down, and they return. Destroy them, and they regroup, and rebuild, and hope that they will not be noticed." "How many ships are there, Larieken?" "It would appear that there are only three, for now, accompanied by a small number of fighters." "Get me the Sha'vei...we're going in." "As you wish; stand by." * * * Elias Wenzel had not yet learned his lesson. That this would soon change had not even entered into his worldview. He believed himself and his small group of ships to be unstoppable...after all, every raid they had attempted, thus far, had succeeded admirably. The attack on this convoy would be their ninth, and Wenzel *knew* that it would succeed. They had already managed to isolate the ship he wanted from the rest of the convoy, and now, it was only a matter of time until success was at hand. Unfortunately for Wenzel, nine was *not* his lucky number. Not today. A harsh chiming on his board broke him out of his gloating. What the Hell? "Waagh!" one of his pilots, Ezzen, wailed. "I told you!...I told you this might happen! It's the..." And then, as Wenzel watched in numb astonishment, Ezzen and a couple of his other fighter pilots abruptly ceased to exist; but not all, not the rest of them apparently needed much coaxing, what with four of the most advanced warships in known space suddenly knocking at their door... Wenzel gritted his teeth...and then sighed. The game was up, far sooner then he had hoped. Who was the blighter who had sold him out? Who? "This is the White Star Fleet to Raiding Party." a ruthless, ever so youthful, and *female* (female?) voice announced. "You are to break off your attack immediately. You will recall *all* of your fighters, and prepare to be escorted to the Misura Prime colony, on the edge of Brakiri territory. There, you will be turned over to the local authorities, and charged with the crimes you have committed, as is applicable to the laws of Brakir. Failure to comply with these orders will result in lethal force being applied against you. Do you understand these orders?" After a fractional hesitation, his left index finger came down on the toggle. "We...we understand your orders, Ranger squadron; we will comply." * * * White Star Four. On the bridge of the flagship of the White Star Fleet, a young woman in Ranger blacks sat in the Captain's chair of that bridge, her expression set and determined, but at the same time, pleased. The young woman *appeared* to be in her early twenties, and unless you knew her better, you would assume this to be the case, especially given the weight of knowledge, responsibility and occasional pain visible in her ocean-coloured eyes. Her shoulder-length black hair was tied sharply back into a tight double braid, for she had learnt the hard way that in battle, it would not do to let *that* get in the way. Some among the Rangers had already noted how those eyes could change colour with her moods, from pale bluish-green when she was in good spirits, to storm-tossed gray in anger. But none on that bridge spared the time to check, for the moment; for in the last six months, the six months that this Ranger had served beneath their Sha'vei, she had worked hard to earn their respect. They did *not* need to look into her eyes, into her soul, to see that she was amongst the finest Rangers ever to earn the jade sigil. And more a warning, were the twinned *second* sigils on either side of her uniform collar. A five-pointed jade star set in a circle of silver. For this Ranger was *also* an Observer, one of only two known to the Anla'shok. The other, the First, had been wife to the man that some named Rimstalker for more then four years now, and served honorably as an instructor of the noble arts in Tuzanor. The other...the younger; the Follower? *She* was the Ranger who lead them, here and now, as first officer to their Sha'vei. Julia Tikopai turned abruptly to her operations officer, the Minbari Ranger who had stood loyally by her side for almost five years now, and allowed herself to smile. "Well, now...*that* wasn't too painful, now was it?" "As you expected..." Larieken drolly replied, "They have capitulated to your demands." "What other choice did they have, Larieken?" Julia replied, settling herself back down into the command chair. "For the most part, the Fleet has been cutting the Raider groups into smaller and smaller pieces over the past few years. Eventually, if we keep on as we have been, we're going to get them all, in the end." "One can only hope that will *eventually* be the case." At that, rather abruptly, the bridge doors slid aside, and Julia shot to her feet as the master of her White Star, and of the Fleet, for that matter, entered, his face showing a grim little smile. "Anla'shok Tikopai. Report!" "Sha'vei Tashann. It is with respect that I can report that we and the triad accompanying us have successfully engaged and neutralized a small group of Raider vessels. White Stars 97, 107 and 112 have been dispatched to escort the Raider Group to Misura Prime. The Raider commander has agreed to all our stipulations." "As expected." Tashann replied, settling into the seat that Julia had recently vacated. "Yes, the choice that you and the other triad first officers made here today was a just one...I, and the other captains, are *pleased* with your actions here today." At that, she bowed slightly, but did not hide her pleased smile. "We live to serve the One, Sha'vei...in all things." "Perhaps...we will yet see whether your true promise will eventually be realized, young Tikopai. You have a long road to walk before that day arrives." "Of course, sir. If I may inquire, now that this operation is deemed a success, what is our next destination?" Tashann pursed his lips thoughtfully. "It has been some time since we have visited the Narn-Centauri frontier, Anla'shok Tikopai, some time indeed. And even now, three years after their war with the Alliance, the Centauri are not pleased to see us about. We must be careful...even more careful then we were in our recent mission related to the human telepaths..." "We are Rangers, sir; we walk where no others will follow, to see the things that must be seen, to ward against the darkness. What danger are the Centauri, when compared to that?" "Well said, Julia, as always. Very well, then, you may set course." Mere moments thereafter, the White Star that commanded all others in the field prepared to depart, to join its sister ships in another place, and another front. But no one on that ship, not Larieken, not Julia Tikopai, and certainly not Sha'vei Tashann, noticed the tiny black globe that followed them through space, undetectable, and undetected. And that, of course, was the whole point. * * * From: b5-creative-errors@lists.best.com Date: Tue, 19 Jan 1999 23:04:44 -0800 (PST) Subject: Digest b5-creative.v001.n841 -------------- BEGIN b5-creative.v001.n841 -------------- 001 - dgolding@connect.ab.ca - STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS; First Interlude 002 - dgolding@connect.ab.ca - STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS, Part 4b 003 - dgolding@connect.ab.ca - STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS, Part 3 004 - dgolding@connect.ab.ca - STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS, Part 1 --------------- MESSAGE b5-creative.v001.n841.1 --------------- From: dgolding@connect.ab.ca Subject: STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS; First Interlude Date: Mon, 18 Jan 1999 21:33:29 MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" STAR AND CIRCLE: "AS DARKNESS FALLS" FIRST INTERLUDE Elsewhere...and elsewhen. Beneath a icy-black sky, a fire burned in the middle of a ring of stones. On either horizon, the moons of this forgotten, unknown, peaceful world could be seen. Peaceful for a reason. And for that reason, the order that now called this place home had come here, to escape a Darkness. A Darkness that the elders amongst the Order declared *not* yet passed from the Galaxy. But there were others amongst the Order who were not quite so strict about such matters. And one, in particular, who would involve himself *so* much that the inevitable would eventually occur. But that time was *not* yet. The crisis that would bring that about was still in the future; predictable, but there was a little time, yet. A little time to attend to other matters. Matters that, for now, seemed to be insignificant on the grand scale of things; but how often had *insignificant* matters proven to be the snowflake that set off an avalanche? Far too often, as all of his Order knew. With calculating, amused gaze, he raised the globe of glass in his hand, and watched it spring to life. "So; you think you know and understand your path, do you? You will soon come to understand that nothing is ever *that* simple. Prodigal Daughter, some have named you, and 'Promise of the Future', others have cried forth! Ah, yes...but *which* future is that? The future that is wished, or the future that is wanted?" Galen raised his face to the star-dappled sky, and sighed. "I fear, young Julia Tikopai, that you will find out, sooner then you might like." * * * --------------- MESSAGE b5-creative.v001.n841.2 --------------- From: dgolding@connect.ab.ca Subject: STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS, Part 4b Date: Tue, 19 Jan 1999 17:50:42 MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" STAR AND CIRCLE: "AS DARKNESS FALLS" PART IV:II "...and the wait can sometimes be a trying one..." * * * Interstellar Alliance Starship SHARD OF NIGHT; patrol near the Drazi/Centauri border...December 31st, 2265. Night Watch...Engineering. Assistant Engineer Nicolas Dawson reclined in his chair as far it would go, and scowled. Director Halloran had sent Captain Rahkeel and his crew out along the edge of Centauri space...through what could be theoretically considered as hostile territory, since he seriously doubted the Centauri would be *happy* to find them there...and wouldn't you know it? The Minbari *didn't* celebrate *anything* at this time of year, it was just *another* day on the job for the lot of them. Nicholas shook his head bitterly...the good Director has *completely* forgotten about the *sole* human member of the crew, now hadn't she? "Happy New Year to me..." he muttered. Yee ha...and Happy Holidays too, for good measure. On top of everything else, Nicholas seemed to have been cursed with a superior who didn't seem to believe in the concept of holidays from the job. Varsak was brilliant, but once in while, he could also be a serious pain...and most of the time, the Director was no better. Because while they *had* undertaken a couple of interesting missions since September, for now, things were quiet. And that, of course, just meant *another* long patrol. Ah, well!...it wasn't as if the Centauri even *had* the technology to detect the SHARD OF NIGHT...Varsak had made sure of that. And there hadn't been a mission the Director had given them *yet* that they had needed to fight their way out of... Although Nicholas *had* been impressed with the weapons trials they had conducted using the primary and secondary weapons arrays. He smiled; the main gun, by itself, was *certainly* comparable in strength to the main guns on those new destroyers that the ISA was building...maybe not *quite* so jarringly powerful, but the SHARD's weaponry packed a hell of a punch, for her size. And for now, everything seemed to be in order...Nicholas rose to his feet. "Lisaki!" "Yes, sir?" his Minbari assistant replied. "Lisaki, I'm think I'm going to go for a walk; if anything goes *terribly* wrong, link in and let me know. In any case, I'll be back in five...wouldn't want to upset the Chief, after all, now would we?" The Minbari smiled a patient, understanding smile. "Of *course*." Nicholas grinned at a little, at that response...Lisaki had, to his great surprise, been very understanding about the situation, and if anyone could be considered a friend aboard, Lisaki would be that friend. Soon enough, Nicholas came to an observation area; beyond the pressure-treated viewport, the ruddy, unforgiving Hell of hyperspace glared back at him...just how *had* gotten himself into this? Was this what it was *all* going to be like?...every holiday, between now and...when? It had been *enjoyable* designing this ship with Varsak and his team...but was he really enjoying things, as they were now? He didn't know anymore...wasn't sure how much more of this loneliness he could take. A hundred light years from the nearest member of his kind, surrounded by darkness, working with members of a race he still didn't really understand. Damn it all!...he had to admit, if only to himself, that he missed his world...and his family, too. And in the end, it seemed as if he had sacrificed everything he cared for to have everything he wanted. Not a fair bargain...not a fair bargain, at all. But there was worse; because of the vows he had made to Varsak, the secret pact taken at the beginning of the trial...there didn't seem to be any way out of this mess. And he *seriously* doubted that Varsak would give him one, in any case... It was then, of course, that his chronometer alerted him, a chime speaking of the unknown yet to come... * * * In the darkness, things were moving...enormous things. And there were those, of course, who saw this as a wonderful thing. They were creatures who had served with *dignity* for millenia, and then had seen that dignity torn away and destroyed by a race that knew not the meaning of the word *service*. The Highest of these beings smiled to one another, and saw their work to be good...for *everything* they had attempted, thus far, had succeeded, the greatest example, of course, being their manipulation of the race named by some 'Centauri', and the punishment and subjugation of that race's Emperor, Londo Mollari. That success let them believe that their *next* objective would also succeed; that the race most responsible for exiling their Masters beyond the Rim would also be made to suffer for their crimes. Yes...the Humans would be made to *suffer* for what one of their kind had done...and in a manner both devious, destructive, and *final*. For the Drakh had been working towards this for a *very* long time, now. And as far as the Drakh knew, there was no one in the universe who knew of what they were planning. Fortunately, of course, the Drakh were *not* infallible. Cruel, yes...but *not* infallible. * * * Was I bold enough, at the end of the beginning, to make a prediction of what would yet be? How wrong I would end up being, and yet, at the same time, so right...because, as everyone now knows, the Earth Year 2266, a year of Light, a year of possibiliites, would lead us inexorably into a time of pain greater then mankind had ever endured, before...and also usher in something I *never* could have predicted... Because, you see, despite my Calling, I still had so *much* to learn, and I had yet, of course, to meet the Instructor who would tell me everything I needed to know, and nothing that I wanted to hear... * * * --------------- MESSAGE b5-creative.v001.n841.3 --------------- From: dgolding@connect.ab.ca Subject: STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS, Part 3 Date: Tue, 19 Jan 1999 17:38:15 MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" STAR AND CIRCLE: "AS DARKNESS FALLS" PART III Hyperspace line of sight route to Minbar; Late October, 2265. Minbari Transport VIRASH. Captain Traveil of the Transport VIRASH was a practical man, he knew when danger was near. And because this was so, Traveil had been *more* then glad to leave the hyperspace wreckage field behind him. The feeling that someone, or some*thing* had been watching him and his crew during the rescue had been a stronger fear then anything he had known since the Shadow War. Traveil shook his head somberly...whether or not there had been any basis to the feeling, he did not know...did not *want* to know. This, because of the tale that the single human survivor of that wreck, a powerful, but young human telepath named Sheynell Keynes, had told them; a tale that both beseeched in its intensity, and veiled from sight the things she hadn't wanted them to know. Things that no one in his position should *ever* have to worry about; the movement of pieces on the playing field...murder and deception, and dark places that no one should *ever* have to know about...and also, what appeared to be the death throes of something that, in his opinion, the humans *never* should have created in the first place. These things had become clear to him during the duration of their conversation with the human...she had made clear to them that things were *not* going well back in Earthspace for telepaths, at the moment. In fact, according to her story, there appeared to be some doubt as to whether the human Psi Corps would survive the present crisis, as it currently existed...a great doubt, indeed... And as the upheaval of the Crisis had reached out even to *her*, Sheynell Keynes had decided to run, before things got any worse...before she lost her life as a result of the uniform she wore, the creed she had, before a certain moment, sworn to uphold. And at that defining moment, valuing her life more then her position, Keynes had decided to part ways with the organization that had created her, trained her, fed her...and *that* organization had *not* wanted to let her go, not with what she knew, not with the amount of time they had invested in her. The Psi Corps, as far as she could *tell*, had sent pursuit after her, and they had destroyed the ship she had stolen, attacked her without mercy, and left her for dead. And close to death, this young human now was, regardless of the vibrancy of her first encounter with him and his crew. Soon after their conversation had concluded, their telepath guest had collapsed, and fallen into a shallow coma; their onboard healer had, unfortunately, been unable to determine the nature of the coma, beyond the evidence of internal injuries suffered during the mysterious attack that had destroyed her ship. Before she fell into darkness, however, Sheynell Keynes had made it *quite* clear that upon their arrival at Minbar, if she was to survive, she wished to be placed in the care of the Rangers...and become a ward of the Alliance, if they would take her. Additionally, there was one Ranger in particular that Sheynell had been *most* insistent should know about the situation, and he had promised her, as she faded from the living world, that word *would* reach the Ranger in question, no matter how long it took. The name of that Ranger? Julia Tikopai. * * * White Star Four; the end of October... "Summoned, I come..." Julia stated, as she strode onto the bridge, Larieken close behind. "What do you require of me, sir?" "Interestingly enough..." Tashann replied, a curious expression on his face, "While the summons was mine to give, I am *not* the one who seeks you out, this day, Julia...observe, and learn." The Sha'vei nodded to the operations officer on station, and that Ranger nodded in reply, causing the holographic viewing curtain to descend into view...revealing to Julia's astonished gaze a familiar personage...someone she hadn't seen in a *very* long time, because of her duties. "Julia..." High Councillor William Westcastle began, his face grave behind its silver-dusted beard, "Thank you for your promptness...although I'm certain that you won't like to hear what I have to tell you. I fear that I must, for a time, recall you from your duties at Tashann's side...a situation has arisen on Minbar that requires your presence here, in Tuzanor." "Sir?" "Several days ago, a civilian Minbari transport encountered the wrecked remains of an Earth Alliance transport on the border between Minbari and Human space...they managed to locate one survivor. That survivor is known to you...a young human telepath by the name of Sheynell Keynes." Julia realized, almost distantly, that she had gasped, out loud. "I see that you *do* remember her, then...that's going to make this job quite a bit easier." "With all due respect...High Councillor. It is...*difficult* to *forget* the last encounter I had with Sheynell Keynes...and her...*master*." Julia could *feel* Tashann's gaze boring into her, and turned to meet his penetrating gaze. "You have...a question, sir?" "If I am to let you leave my side, even for a short time..." Tashann replied, "It would be...appropriate...to know all there is to know about this matter." "Sir..." Larieken interjected, "Allow me to explain. Slightly more then two standard years in the past, Anla'shok Tikopai, myself and a number of other Rangers were, by happenstance, on Babylon 5, and were able to help deal with a crisis that was besetting the station, at that time. An official of the Psi Corps familiar to us all named...*Bester* had arrived on the station to deal with an outbreak of terrorism caused by a cell of the organization known as the Byronites. At his side, almost, at that time, a fully authorized member of their police force herself, was a young human female, cold of eye, and of seemingly similar persausions, named Sheynell Keynes...I have no doubt that this woman and the one the High Councillor describes are one and the same. In any case, before the crisis was ended, Anla'shok Tikopai, I and a number of other Rangers were called upon to help *save* Miss Keynes from her enemies, and were able to help teach her a valuable lesson, as a result. At the same time, completely against her own will, Miss Keynes may have established somewhat of a rapport with Anla'shok Tikopai...perhaps history is about to be repeated..." "Exactly." High Councillor Westcastle interjected. "While Miss Keynes's condition, at the moment, is not good, the healers available to us here, both physical *and*, more importantly, *mental*, are working on her around the clock. Sooner or later, Miss Keynes *will* return to the waking world, and when that happens, Julia, I need you to be close to hand, to help deal with her, and her situation." "I don't understand, sir...we do have a history, as you've learned, but why *me*? Why is it *so* important for me to be near to her?" "A very good question, with an even more interesting answer..." the High Councillor replied. "It all comes down to two things, in the end...before her collapse, Miss Keynes asked the captain who rescued her for sanctuary among the Rangers...why, I don't know, yet, but I'm guessing we'll find out, eventually. But more importantly, for now, the other thing she told him is that there was ONE Ranger in the whole galaxy she wanted to know about this situation...spoke of that Ranger by *name*, as a matter of fact. That Ranger is you, Julia. And because of the request, I need you on hand, here in Tuzanor, until her recovery is certain...for if Miss Keynes is looking for help from the Rangers, we need to know if she can give *us* help, in return, and information, if possible..." She could see where this was going, now. Julia sighed...it was necessary, but she didn't have to like it. "...ever since the Telepath Crisis started, back in Earthspace, information on the status of the telepaths both in the Psi Corps and rogue camps has been hard to come by. This might just be our ticket to that information... we can't afford to waste the chance." She nodded curtly. "I understand, sir. You can count on me to help." "That's all I ask...for now. Isil'zha veni..." "In Valen's Name, we serve..." the Rangers on bridge all sharply replied, and then, the image of their High Councillor faded from sight. "Operations!" Tashann commanded, "You will set course for Minbar. Stand by on jump engines..." "Ready!" the Operations Ranger replied. "Proceed." "You appear troubled..." Larieken inquired of Julia, as the White Star 4 got underway. "May I ask why?" "I may have brought this on myself, Larieken. During the crisis, two years ago, I opened up to Sheynell more then I should have...and she did the same, in return. Getting away from Bester for a little while cracked that awful Psi Corps shell she had, and let out a little bit of the person inside. And like I said before, I probably brought this situation on myself." "How so?" "When we parted ways, I told Sheynell that if things ever went bad for her, back home, and if no one else would help her, that she could turn to the Rangers for help..." "And to conclude that line of thought..." Larieken surmised, "When Miss Keynes finally *did* think to turn to the Rangers for assistance, your name would probably have been at the *top* of her list." "*Exactly*." * * * Mid-November, 2265. Primary Care Facility, Tuzanor, Minbar. For the first time in a long, long while, Sheynell was aware of something *other* then the screams in her mind...both hers, and others. The others had come to hurt her, tracked her down only to hurt her, to make sure she wouldn't go over to the other side. She allowed herself to smile; that had *never* been the intent of her escape from the Corps; when things got as bad as they had, the only place she had wanted to go was *away from it all*...away from the madness, away from the mad dreams of grandeur that some of her fellow P12's had had. It was all so ironic...there had been a time, not so long ago, when she would gladly have fallen into that dark pool with the rest of them...a time when she had followd her master and idol, Alfred Bester, like a good little telepath should. Sheynell bit her lip, and fought down on the hurricane of emotions that threatened to swamp her. Slightly more then a year before, Bester had conferred upon her the right to do as he did...but she had passed *all* of his tests with 'flying colours', now, hadn't she? And also *stupid* enough to believe in all the dogma...all because, like all the other good little telepaths, she had been brought up to believe in the dream of superiority that so many senior members of the Corps had...that they were better then everybody else; better then the rogues, better then the misfits, and *certainly* better then the mundanes. Couldn't forget the mundanes, now could we? Nor the ones she had killed, for Bester. Before. She felt a tear trickle down one cheek, and onto the pillow beneath her head...it was almost sickening, the things she had done, for him, for the Corps. It had taken her a *very* long time to come to this realization; it wasn't until after she had become what Bester had wanted her to become, until *after* she had put on the black leather uniform that spoke, louder then words, the job she was expected to perform, that she had begun to slowly wake up to what was going on around her...the growing Crisis that had exploded in all its glory, the previous year; a Crisis continuing, even now. In the end, she supposed that it had been Brianna that had started her on this road...Brianna Tolmanes, the mysterious telepath who had once been a Ranger herself, and fought at the side of Sheridan's forces to stop the mythical 'Shadows' from destroying everything and everybody. Even *now*, she wasn't sure she believed all the stories that Brianna had told her about that time period, but she believed *some* of it, because on two occasions, both by design, Brianna had opened up, to reveal the secrets within her. The secrets left by her *former* masters, the Vorlons. And so, she had begun to have doubts. And the more she did her job the way she was supposed to, rolling out the rote phrases that had been programmed into her over the past twenty-odd years of her life in the Corps, the more the doubts pressured her. Until, finally, Brianna had confronted her, and told her to get out, while she still could; because if she stayed, Brianna had told her, Bester would, in the end, sacrifice her to ensure the success of his aims and ideals. And she was *damned*, the other telepath had said, if she was going to let that happen to as a good person as Sheynell could become. And so, she had run away. To start with, she had used her uniform, her status, to pull the roadblocks out of the way, escaping from Earth System just ahead of the order forbidding that escape. And later on...she had *no* doubt that Bester had sent those agents after her to ensure that no one ever found out about the secrets she knew. Brianna, however, had taught her a few tricks, for when that day had finally come...and she had *used* her gifts in ways the Corps had never taught her, to make her pursuers believe that they had succeeded in their mission. Not that she was able to completely escape from their ministrations...oh no. It seemed likely that sometime in the indeterminate period between her collapse in the hands of the Minbari crew, and her arrival in this place (wherever 'here' was.) she had drifted close to death. But maybe, just maybe, the Minbari captain, Trevail, had acceded to her request; maybe, just maybe, they had taken her where she wanted to go... And her present location seemed to agree with all those hopes. The room she found herself in was remarkably spartan, but for a care facility, well laid out...far more so then was common, in human facilities. The walls were curved and backlit, and there was a faint lavender tint to everything that was, no doubt, intended to calm the recepient of these quarters (she had to admit that it *was* working, after a fashion). Very slowly, fighting the almost terminal exhaustion she felt (how long *had* she been unconscious, anyways?) she got to her feet, and made her way slowly over to the nearby window...at which point, she finally allowed herself to smile. As far as she could see, great towers of crystal filled the night, glowing, majestic...alien; while overhead, two half-lit moons brightened the sky. She turned away from the window, and laughed...beyond all hope, she had finally *made it* to Minbar! She had managed to reach those people, above all others, who Brianna had said might be able to help her...if one could help a woman of Earth who was, for all intents and purposes, considered to be dead by most, if not all of her peers... And then, the door opened, and she whirled, her panic rising...who was... "Peace!" the Minbari at the door stated, his arms spread wide, his smile a smile of welcome. "There is no need for concern, Sheynell Keynes of Earth. You are among friends, here, in this house." The Minbari had a close-fitting gray tunic on, with a jade jewel on one breast...she almost laughed again, to see that. He was a Ranger!... "You'll have to, ah, forgive my lapse! I'm not used to this, not used to the...freedom, Mr...?" "I understand...and *my* name..." the Minbari replied, his expression still maddeningly calm, "Is Veyshahk, one time physician to the family Teleri, and now, to the Anla'shok, what you know as the Rangers." "Of course; I am...*very* pleased to meet you, Veyshahk. More pleased then you can possibly understand." "Indeed..." Veyshahk murmured. "I have no doubt that I will learn the reason for your apparent sincerity in due course...but for now, Miss Keynes, I would suggest that you return to your bed...you are far from fully recovered." And as if waiting for that very sentence, she wobbled, feeling a wave of dizziness come upon her. "There, you see? While the greatest crisis may have passed you by, until your strength has returned, it is best not to take matters too far. And *that* will not happen until you have *eaten* something." "How long?" she whispered, as she lay back down, almost bitterly. How *dare* her body let her down like this? "I suspect that it will take three, perhaps even *four* of your weeks to fully recover the strength that you lost during your time of crisis..." Veyshahk replied, his face grave. "And you *must* understand!...it has already been FOURTEEN of our days since your arrival on Minbar, and apart from brief periods of unresponsive lucidity in the past standard day, you have been unconscious for the remainder of that time." She blinked, at that. *Fourteen* days? "How bad was...the..." "Bad enough. The internal injuries you suffered at the hands of your attackers were significant ones. But far worse were the *mental* injuries that they inflicted upon you, I am afraid. It took the concerted efforts of one of our best telepaths to help return your mental state to something resembling normality...although, I am afraid, that there are some things you will have to do yourself, over the next little while, to ensure a full recovery. For now, though, I would suggest that you do *not* use your abilities, and until we are able to determine how bad things still are, it is best, as your kind say, to 'play it safe.'" She sighed, then, to hear that. "Of course." It was then, quite naturally, that her stomach decided to complain. "Uh...you wouldn't happen to have some...oh, *food* around here somewhere, would you?" Veyshahk laughed. "I'm sure that something can be arranged, Miss Keynes." "Oh, and one more thing before you go..." "Yes?" "There isn't a Ranger named...Julia Tikopai presently on Minbar, is there?" "That will be revealed to you in due course, Miss Keynes." Veyshahk replied. "For now, though, I would suggest a light meal, and then, some more rest, which will, no doubt, come upon you in any case once you have eaten." Come to think of it, he was right, Sheynell realized...now that the initial adrenalin rush of reaching her destination had worn off, exhaustion was certainly becoming a noticable effect, again. "I think you may be right, Veyshahk. You'd better get that food to me, soon!...because if you don't hurry, I probably won't be awake to eat it." "It shall be as you say, Miss Keynes; I will have one of our attendants bring the meal to you promptly. Besides that, I see no reason why we cannot continue this conversation in the day. Valen watch over you this night, Miss Keynes; until I see you next, I bid you good evening." And with that said, Veyshahk bowed slightly towards her, opened the door, and slipped outside. "You...don't say." she murmured, half in wonder. But greater wonders then she could believe, or understand, were still ahead of her. * * * What would later be seen as a portent for the future happened nearby, later that evening, as the evening flyer from Yedor arrived at the transport facility in Tuzanor. Traffic was light, and only a very small number of Minbari disembarked from the flyer. What *was* noticably different about this flight, however, was the *final* passenger who disembarked from the flyer, paused for a moment, and gazed appreciatively up at the moon-dazzled sky overhead. For *this* passenger was a *Drazi*, not as rare a sight in Tuzanor as before the arrival of the Interstellar Alliance headquarters, but less common then many of the other races who sent representatives here. "It was a long trip, yes...but maybe, this thing that I do will matter as much I think it does..." Dasouri muttered to himself, before beginning to rummage through the travel bag slung over one shoulder. "Now, the important question to have answered is, how do I find the Ranger Compound?" The Drazi muttered expressively in his own tongue as he searched his way through his belongings. "Where *is* the datapad I bought on Babylon 5...ah!" Dasouri held the item in question aloft, a wide smile on his face. It was time to begin what needed to be begun... And though Dasouri did not know it, future generations of the Anla'shok would mark this night as a turning point, as the beginning of something greater then any one Drazi... * * * To be continued... --------------- MESSAGE b5-creative.v001.n841.4 --------------- From: dgolding@connect.ab.ca Subject: STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS, Part 1 Date: Tue, 19 Jan 1999 17:33:26 MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" And so it begins...again! The time has come to begin something that will, all being well, last for the next five years or so. STAR AND CIRCLE is looking like it's going to be *far* more ambitious then the RIMSTALKER was...and difficult, due to the fact that I am planning to write the story more or less in real time, as I watch CRUSADE unfold. This, on top of writing episodes of as well, means that boredom is not exactly going to be a problem for the next little while (insert the word 'year(s)', as appropriate). And having seen A CALL TO ARMS earlier then I could have previously imagined...here the prologue is! Of course, due to those basketball-type people, I must, for now, be content with setting things up for what will follow... As always, usual disclaimers apply, as per the previous stalk across JMS's wonderful universe. JMS's characters, past and yet to be, belong to him. Any invention of mine is for my pleasure and yours, and can be used as List writers see fit (although it would be nice if you asked...) The timeline for AS DARKNESS FALLS is the year and a half leading up to the events seen at the *end* of A CALL TO ARMS, and maybe a week or so, afterwards. Very *minor* spoilers for A CALL TO ARMS in Part I, far worse ones to come, in Part's VI and beyond. Without further ado, then, let the trials and tribulations commence... * * * STAR AND CIRCLE: "AS DARKNESS FALLS" PART I "Do you want to know how it began, and where? In such a simple manner, as you will see...but simplicities, as we all understand, can so rapidly become complexities..." * * * Interstellar Alliance Experimental Shipyard Number One. Mid August, 2265. It was, in his opinion, the worst task he had yet been given...but as always, Varsak had the final word. Varsak had been the one, beyond all expectations, who had invited him into Minbari space to work on this project, less then two standard years before. Varsak, the one responsible for introducing him to concepts and technologies a hundred generations beyond anything his kind could emulate. Varsak, the sometimes smiling, mostly scowling Minbari, who had introduced him to a new world. And Varsak who had also, quite bluntly, after he had accepted the offer to join the otherwise all-Minbari design team, told him that there was now no going back on his word. That while there was certainly something...*special* about him, ordinarily, they would not have chosen a human to help them. But this unique quality, a quality that none of them, as of yet, had had the grace to tell him about (but what was new in that...they *were* Minbari, after all) would not keep him alive, if word of this project was to find its way into the hands of the Earth Alliance government. For they would *know* who would be responsible, if such a thing were to occur; and what happened *thereafter* would NOT be pleasant...and did he understand this? He nodded grimly; he had understood *all* too well the meaning of those words. But now, the construction and testing phase was just about complete!...and the task he had been promised, from the beginning, was about to come to pass. For that, and that alone, the patient wait, the servitude, *and* the silence had all been worthwhile. In any case, that government was busy at the moment with other matters, and greater concerns. They would not notice what was going on here, because the Telepath Crisis (almost a *war* now) overruled all other situations in its importance, for the time being. Dawson smiled grimly; Varsak had allowed him to escape that madness, a madness that would burn itself out eventually, one way, or the other. For that, he would thank him; for now, however, it was, perhaps for the last time, time to deal with *that* man... The man, in his opinion, who did not deserve to run as important a project as this one would eventually end up being. "When are *they* due to arrive?" Samuel Drake demanded, his expression its usual mix of superiority and possessiveness. "They are *late*, Mr. Dawson; I am disappointed!...in this *admittedly* simple matter, we have been expecting better performance then... *This*. You *assured* us that they would be on time!" "You must have *patience*, Drake..." Nicholas Dawson replied, as he strode up beside his supervisor to look out on the shipyard, and the all important, half-built starships contained within. "I received a message from them not more then ten standard minutes ago..." "And?" "They left from the waypoint near Minbar slightly behind schedule; that is all. My superior, Chief Engineer Varsak, informed me that there has been a problem with the gravimetric stabilizers..." "I trust the problem has been corrected, then?" Drake replied, a scowl close to forming on his face. "We *need* to know if the ideas that you and your Minbari comrades have been trying out are at *all* feasible, and whether or not those ideas can be applied to our ships, out there! If they do *not* return in the next hour...if there are *more* unforseen complications...it may set the ENTIRE project behind schedule. That cannnot be allowed, Dawson. The President and his Advisory Board will not stand for it." "You worry *far* too much, Drake." he replied, keeping a smile on his face (though, occasionally, with Drake, it was sometimes *so* difficult...the man could be maddening). "The problems they discovered with the hybrid systems are being corrected as we speak...and the design *is* a sound one, as I have *repeatedly* explained to you, for weeks, now. We are, in the end, as I have said *before*, dealing with what is esentially a variant on an already tried-and-true design, the Minbari 'White Star' light cruiser...very few things were expected to go wrong during the test run, even with as *unique* a variant as this starship ended up being." "Yes..." Drake murmured, his gaze now far away from the here and now, "You did tell us that, didn't you? Pity we won't be able to utilize this testbed approach for much longer, though, Dawson; I was...hoping to keep moving in this vein for at least another six months..." Inwardly, he snorted...yeah, *right*...but spending time among the Minbari had taught him certain restraint, so his face showed none of this. "Unfortunately, Drake, all things *and* all stages in projects must eventually come to an end. Once we're sure that the limited principles test as envisioned is a success, our design *must* move on to perform its assigned duties...and *you* may proceed with the full systemics installation on the EXCALIBUR and the VICTORY, which is, after all, your real purpose in working out here, isn't it?" "Yes, *but*..." "*Additionally*, the use that the Rangers will be putting this ship to is a good one...and follows a tradition laid down by human, and even some Minbari engineers, over the last few centuries. Some of the best projects known have been *black* projects, and while the White Star Fleet has moved openly for years now, serving the interests of the Alliance, it seems, shall we say, *prudent*, for there to be a more secret, and *vastly* more powerful Alliance warship, or warships, moving behind the scenes, working on behalf of the more covert divisions within the Ranger hierarchy... Although, of course, nowhere *near* in the same league as your 'babies', out there..." Drake snorted. "You give speeches amazingly well, for an engineer, Dawson." "Their High Councillor, Westcastle, was remarkably persuasive in his views, sir, when he visited us, three months ago, to discuss the purported use for our design. And I understand that he and the President are close; hence, it seems that what Westcastle wants, Westcastle usually *gets*..." "Military politicians; the worst of the lot, in my opinion." "Perhaps." Privately, though, he snickered. What a *fool*. And then, a warning chime alerted him, and he turned, to observe (as expected) a section of nearspace flash-twist, and then spring open into the familiar blue spiral of a jump point, out of which came a lithe, dark gray, ever-so-deadly and familiar shape. And what a design is was, he marvelled, as the just arrived starship matched velocities with the station, and quickly came to absolute rest. There would, in all likelihood, never be another like it, if what Varsak had told him, was true; but that did not matter, because in the end...if a White Star was a hawk... Then *this* ship could end up being tbe the finest eagle that ever flew...until the completion of the EXCALIBUR's, that was...and maybe, not even then! With a now-genuine smile on his face, he turned back towards the still grumpy Drake. "There, Drake...you see? Just as I said." "Well, *they* had better appreciate all the work that's been done for them, putting that ship together." came the reply, as the Project Head of the Advanced Destroyer Project abruptly turned away, intent on other business now that this particular worry was done away with. "They'd *better*..." he whispered, turning back towards the viewport, to gaze once more on the ship he's helped to build, silouetted against the distant stars. "Or they'll be hearing from me on the matter... "In more ways then one." * * * Early September, 2265...Interstellar Alliance Headquarters, Minbar. "Mr. President." Theresa Halloran bluntly began, as she strode into the office of John J. Sheridan, President of the Interstellar Alliance, "Please forgive me if I come straight to the point. As you no doubt understand, due to the current situation in the Earth Alliance, my time here is limited, and having to set aside days from that schedule to make this trip to Minbar doesn't make things *any* easier. In your recent message to Babylon 5, you managed, as usual, to say a lot without saying *anything* at all, excepting the fact that unless a major galactic crisis were to happen in the interim, I should make best possible speed for ISA headquarters. Well, *here I am*, Mr. President. Do you want to maybe be a *little* less mysterious, now?" "My apologies, Ms. Halloran..." John Sheridan replied, his gaze more serious then it had been the last few times they had met. "But what I have to say to you could not be shared over *any* channel, open or otherwise, and this matter even overrules our concerns related to the Earth Alliance Telepath Crisis, unbelievable as that may sound." "Alright...*now* you've got my attention." The President nodded grimly. "As an additional precaution, this office has now been sealed against any and all surveilance methods known to the Minbari...which should, in my opinion, just about cover the whole spectrum of those who *might* be trying to listen in on our conversation." "I see; this would be serious, then..." "Serious, yes, but don't get the impression this is bad news...it certainly *isn't* that. But before we continue, let me ask you a question... what is your current assessment of the secrecy surrounding our Advanced Destroyer Project?" "The way you've set it up, Mr. President, no one who doesn't know about it *now* is going to find out *anything* until they're ready to be unveiled." Sheridan smiled at that...and once again, she saw how fast he had aged over the past several years. There had been a time, not so long ago, when his hair and beard had been dark; but now, the silver in that beard was *rapidly* becoming predominant; not that this wasn't to be expected...he had been through so *much* over the last ten years...and *especially* in the last five. "Exactly! But as it turns out, there are other projects afoot within the Alliance that make the secrecy I ordered placed on the Destroyer project look almost...simple. In fact, before three days ago, even *I* didn't know about the matter we will *shortly* be discussing..." This was going to get *irritating* in a hurry, she decided...although, she *knew* that the President occasionally enjoyed this sort of wild goose chase. And since *he* hadn't known about it, that meant only one thing. "From that comment, may I assume this...*project* is of Minbari inception?" "You may." "And since *that* is true, the individual responsible for alerting you about the 'matter' would, therefore, have been Delenn." Sheridan ruefully nodded. "Every once in a while, you remind me of the reason I gave you your job, Ms. Halloran. As you know, Delenn's had a *lot* of practice, over the years, at keeping secrets...but now the ball's in my court, I need to decide what we should do about this; and what do you know?...it's time for the little tour I planned. Time to go for a walk..." "A...tour?" she exclaimed. "Mr. President! *Forgive* me if I'm falling a little bit behind the power curve, here, but what *exactly* are we talking about here? A...ship of some sort?" "Follow and learn, Ms. Halloran..." was Sheridan's only reply, as the President briskly strode out of his office, leaving her only one option. "Follow and learn..." "Follow, *where*?" she demanded, as she caught up with Sheridan a short time later, beneath the blazing Minbari sun. "Look up." was his reply, and she did...oh, how *typical*. So intent had she been on catching up to the President that she hadn't thought as to the matter of transportation. Above them, a winged Minbari craft hung, and even as she watched, a circle at the base of the craft began to glow...matching an all-too similar circle around their feet... "The ride gets *interesting* from here on in." Sheridan confided, a broad grin now on his face. "You've *got* to be kidding..." "Relax...this is perfectly safe. The first time that Delenn and I did this, she told me that the Minbari have had this technology for almost a thousand years..." "*Right*. And that's supposed to make me feel better?" * * * Shortly thereafter, and in a shorter time then she would have believed possible, the winged Minbari craft had achieved orbit. And as usual, Tessa could *not* escape from the fly-on-the-wall feeling their visual technology always gave her. The President and her were standing alone, in one of their holographic 'viewing' chambers...unfortunately, this meant, for all intents and purposes, that to all visual purposes, there didn't appear to be any walls... Or a floor, for that matter. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" she muttered, as the vast northern icecap of Minbar swung below them, half in, and half out of night, and partly in shadows. "I don't have *any* idea what you're talking about, Ms. Halloran..." the President replied, a look of combined surprise and amusement on his face (yeah, right...). "I've always enjoyed how this lets me get out and away from it all...but if you prefer, we can bring the floor back." And back it was, to her relief. "But let me finally come to the point of bringing you here...the reason we've come up over the north pole of Minbar. The Minbari have recently given the Alliance what amounts to one *Hell* of a gift...a ship which, while it won't compare in sheer firepower and complexity to the Advanced Destroyers we're building, is certainly far more then equal to anything else its size in the local galactic region..." At that, she turned sharply. "If this new class of Minbari ship is so powerful, why not simply build a fleet of them, like the White Stars, Mr. President?" "That would be an easy way out, wouldn't it? To build bigger and better ships until no one can stand against you. No, it is *precisely* for that reason that the Minbari insisted the numbers of this class be *extremely* limited...but there is another reason, as well. As you will soon see, this new ship isn't all that big, no more then about twice the size of a White Star...but the cost? It cost them *more* to build this prototype then it does to build one of their *full-sized* war cruisers." Now this was *really* starting to sound interesting. "I...see. And why is that, exactly?" "You'll see, soon enough. As a matter of fact, we've almost reached the docking orbit...if you look closely, right over *there*, you should be able to see *her*..." She followed the President's finger, but all she could see was stars and the blackness of space. "You'll forgive me, Mr. President, but I don't..." And then, she did. "Oh, my *God*." "That's *one* way of putting it, I suppose." Sheridan turned away for a moment. "This is President Sheridan on Flyer ZHAUDRA; we are on final approach...I'm going to *assume* you gentlemen are ready for the tour?" "Greetings to you, as well, Mr. President." a cultured, obviously Minbari voice returned. "The Rangers and crew of Vi'dalae An'Shaka await the visit of you and your companion, Director Theresa Halloran; we stand ready for your arrival." "Glad to hear it; Sheridan out." "Ah...Vi'dalae An'Shaka?...Mr. President?" Sheridan smiled...a little grimly, now. "It's a Minbari name, Ms. Halloran...an old and distuinguished one. In our language, it can best be translated... as SHARD OF NIGHT." * * * Sector 91 by 7 by 14... "They just never learn, do they?" "Indeed not, Observer. It is the way of Raiders; knock them down, and they return. Destroy them, and they regroup, and rebuild, and hope that they will not be noticed." "How many ships are there, Larieken?" "It would appear that there are only three, for now, accompanied by a small number of fighters." "Get me the Sha'vei...we're going in." "As you wish; stand by." * * * Elias Wenzel had not yet learned his lesson. That this would soon change had not even entered into his worldview. He believed himself and his small group of ships to be unstoppable...after all, every raid they had attempted, thus far, had succeeded admirably. The attack on this convoy would be their ninth, and Wenzel *knew* that it would succeed. They had already managed to isolate the ship he wanted from the rest of the convoy, and now, it was only a matter of time until success was at hand. Unfortunately for Wenzel, nine was *not* his lucky number. Not today. A harsh chiming on his board broke him out of his gloating. What the Hell? "Waagh!" one of his pilots, Ezzen, wailed. "I told you!...I told you this might happen! It's the..." And then, as Wenzel watched in numb astonishment, Ezzen and a couple of his other fighter pilots abruptly ceased to exist; but not all, not the rest of them apparently needed much coaxing, what with four of the most advanced warships in known space suddenly knocking at their door... Wenzel gritted his teeth...and then sighed. The game was up, far sooner then he had hoped. Who was the blighter who had sold him out? Who? "This is the White Star Fleet to Raiding Party." a ruthless, ever so youthful, and *female* (female?) voice announced. "You are to break off your attack immediately. You will recall *all* of your fighters, and prepare to be escorted to the Misura Prime colony, on the edge of Brakiri territory. There, you will be turned over to the local authorities, and charged with the crimes you have committed, as is applicable to the laws of Brakir. Failure to comply with these orders will result in lethal force being applied against you. Do you understand these orders?" After a fractional hesitation, his left index finger came down on the toggle. "We...we understand your orders, Ranger squadron; we will comply." * * * White Star Four. On the bridge of the flagship of the White Star Fleet, a young woman in Ranger blacks sat in the Captain's chair of that bridge, her expression set and determined, but at the same time, pleased. The young woman *appeared* to be in her early twenties, and unless you knew her better, you would assume this to be the case, especially given the weight of knowledge, responsibility and occasional pain visible in her ocean-coloured eyes. Her shoulder-length black hair was tied sharply back into a tight double braid, for she had learnt the hard way that in battle, it would not do to let *that* get in the way. Some among the Rangers had already noted how those eyes could change colour with her moods, from pale bluish-green when she was in good spirits, to storm-tossed gray in anger. But none on that bridge spared the time to check, for the moment; for in the last six months, the six months that this Ranger had served beneath their Sha'vei, she had worked hard to earn their respect. They did *not* need to look into her eyes, into her soul, to see that she was amongst the finest Rangers ever to earn the jade sigil. And more a warning, were the twinned *second* sigils on either side of her uniform collar. A five-pointed jade star set in a circle of silver. For this Ranger was *also* an Observer, one of only two known to the Anla'shok. The other, the First, had been wife to the man that some named Rimstalker for more then four years now, and served honorably as an instructor of the noble arts in Tuzanor. The other...the younger; the Follower? *She* was the Ranger who lead them, here and now, as first officer to their Sha'vei. Julia Tikopai turned abruptly to her operations officer, the Minbari Ranger who had stood loyally by her side for almost five years now, and allowed herself to smile. "Well, now...*that* wasn't too painful, now was it?" "As you expected..." Larieken drolly replied, "They have capitulated to your demands." "What other choice did they have, Larieken?" Julia replied, settling herself back down into the command chair. "For the most part, the Fleet has been cutting the Raider groups into smaller and smaller pieces over the past few years. Eventually, if we keep on as we have been, we're going to get them all, in the end." "One can only hope that will *eventually* be the case." At that, rather abruptly, the bridge doors slid aside, and Julia shot to her feet as the master of her White Star, and of the Fleet, for that matter, entered, his face showing a grim little smile. "Anla'shok Tikopai. Report!" "Sha'vei Tashann. It is with respect that I can report that we and the triad accompanying us have successfully engaged and neutralized a small group of Raider vessels. White Stars 97, 107 and 112 have been dispatched to escort the Raider Group to Misura Prime. The Raider commander has agreed to all our stipulations." "As expected." Tashann replied, settling into the seat that Julia had recently vacated. "Yes, the choice that you and the other triad first officers made here today was a just one...I, and the other captains, are *pleased* with your actions here today." At that, she bowed slightly, but did not hide her pleased smile. "We live to serve the One, Sha'vei...in all things." "Perhaps...we will yet see whether your true promise will eventually be realized, young Tikopai. You have a long road to walk before that day arrives." "Of course, sir. If I may inquire, now that this operation is deemed a success, what is our next destination?" Tashann pursed his lips thoughtfully. "It has been some time since we have visited the Narn-Centauri frontier, Anla'shok Tikopai, some time indeed. And even now, three years after their war with the Alliance, the Centauri are not pleased to see us about. We must be careful...even more careful then we were in our recent mission related to the human telepaths..." "We are Rangers, sir; we walk where no others will follow, to see the things that must be seen, to ward against the darkness. What danger are the Centauri, when compared to that?" "Well said, Julia, as always. Very well, then, you may set course." Mere moments thereafter, the White Star that commanded all others in the field prepared to depart, to join its sister ships in another place, and another front. But no one on that ship, not Larieken, not Julia Tikopai, and certainly not Sha'vei Tashann, noticed the tiny black globe that followed them through space, undetectable, and undetected. And that, of course, was the whole point. * * * --------------- END b5-creative.v001.n841 --------------- From: dgolding@connect.ab.ca Subject: STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS, Part 2 Date: Tue, 19 Jan 1999 17:36:58 STAR AND CIRCLE: "AS DARKNESS FALLS" PART II September, 2265; Minbari Flyer, over the North Pole of Minbar. Tessa Halloran looked at the new ship slowly growing before her, and tried to decide what she felt about it. It *certainly* did look like a White Star, but while the White Stars looked threatening, for all intents and purposes, *this* ship just looked downright *mean*. The same basic shape was there, but the differences were equally noticable. The front end was far longer, thinner and more tapered then in the White Star class, with an enormous black blister of some sort on either side of and just behind of the forward topside weapons emplacements, while along the curve of the rear superstructure, in between the main axis and the outboard engines, two long, tapered spikes had been constructed...were these weapons batteries, also? By far the most *obvious* changes, however, apart from the fact that this command was easily twice as large, in every dimension, as any White Star vessel ever built, were the following. First, while the central core of a White Star was hollow, this one's core was *quite* solid, implying at least *several* more decks, and who *knew* what else, contained within. Second, the oddly-pronged main armament on the nose was unlike *anything* she had ever seen before. And finally, there was a *third* outboard engine, *beneath* the main body. "For *that* to be the name of this ship seems to be, shall we say, all too appropriate, if I may so, Mr. President." she finally said. "Almost has a predatory look, doesn't she?" Sheridan mused. "From what little Delenn has told me about this design, that was entirely the idea, Ms. Halloran. The SHARD OF NIGHT is designed to do three things, and three things only. First, you may note the colour..." "Or rather, the *lack* thereof." Sheridan conceded the point. "She's designed to be the stealthiest warship the Minbari have ever constructed...far harder to find and to see then anything they've ever built before...to hide from all known Alliance technologies, and to anticipate those we don't know about yet. Secondly, to perform its missions more capably then any Minbari ship that has come before it, with self-repair and countermeasures systems a generation more advanced then in the White Star class. And lastly, when subterfuge fails, she has the teeth to go one on one with a full-sized destroyer-class vessel...and with luck, *win* that encounter. For all the above reasons, and despite its relative small size, the Interstellar Alliance has decided to classify this vessel as a battlecruiser..." "And what, *exactly*, prompted you to turn this miracle of modern Minbari engineering over to *my* division, Mr. President? I mean, even though some of the missions you've asked us to perform in the last little while have been difficult ones...most of them are going to become remarkably easier with the use of...*this* ship." Tessa turned her gaze back to the SHARD OF NIGHT, as the flyer slowly moved in behind the warship, heading for its hangar bay. "Perhaps *too* easy; whatever operatives I assign to use this ship may lose their edge through complacency, Mr. President; I won't have that." Sheridan nodded. "That's a lot of difficult questions and comments you've posed there, but they're all good ones...so let me start from the top. Delenn was the one, in the end, who arranged for this ship to be transferred to ISA jurisdistiction. At the same time, although she won't tell me all the details, it also seems likely that the Minbari group responsible for its construction was none too happy about their new toy being taken away, so soon...but Delenn made it emminently clear to me *why* that was done, though. As long as she's alive, she's going to strive to keep the castes in balance; and that includes any splinter group, or more, that tries to upset the status quo, especially from behind the scenes." "Which all makes sense, after the civil war she helped to defuse back in '61. So once she told you, Mr. President, you then had to make up your mind which division of the ISA would most benefit from the use of the SHARD OF NIGHT..." "Exactly. The Rangers, for now, have no need for her...that may change, in the future, but for now, the White Star Fleet has more then enough firepower to take care of any local squabbles between ISA members, as well as repel any dangers from exterior powers, such as the Drakh, until the new destroyers come online. And that left the Covert Intelligence Division...your command. *Now*, as for the issue of your operatives losing their edge through complacency, I don't think you have to worry about that all too much. As I have learned the hard way, with increased power, you *always* get increased responsibility. The missions I have sent your team on over the last two and a half years have been limited only by your resources...that will now change. The missions you will now be capable of will push your team to the edge of the envelope...and beyond. Although I have no doubt that they will succeed in those missions...you've never let me down, yet." "Nor do I intend to, Mr. President...that's not my way." With that decisive statement, she felt a slight jarring vibration pass through the body of the flyer, and realized that in the ensuing conversation, the flyer had probably docked with the SHARD OF NIGHT. "We appear to have arrived at our destination." "Indeed we have!..." the President replied, as he indicated that she should walk at his side, and they left the viewing chamber, together. "Now we get to see whether or not the decisions we've made here, today, are the right ones, or not..." * * * The corridors of the new ship were, as was traditional, styled after the Minbari standard, but that standard seemed to have been refined somewhat in the SHARD OF NIGHT. The walls of the corridors were a backlit mix of pale gray, dark gray and rose, while every twenty feet or so, tall black, curved pillars rose, ribbed and cored with lights. Forever in the background was the deep thrumming sound of the warship's powerful main drive...a noise that, no doubt, gave some of the crew comfort, but not her. That noise, thankfully, seemed to recede somewhat as they moved forward, however. Another notable point was the following: the corridors bustled with Minbari, and a substantial portion of these seemed to be *Warrior Caste*. Tessa turned to the President, one eyebrow raised in inquiry, as they followed the first officer of the warship, a Warrior Caste Minbari named Drakan, towards the bridge, and his Captain. "That's part of the bargain that Delenn made with the builders." Sheridan replied grimly...and quietly. "While I don't like it, for now, I have to live with it. And until I can find a satisfactory reason to give this ship to the Rangers, that's the way it has to stay." "Why do I get the feeling that the word 'satisfactory' in that sentence, means the same as 'soon as possible'?" "Because it would be true." Sheridan replied, as they reached the bridge, and approached the doors, which obediently moved aside, revealing yet another surprise in the legion that had descended upon her since she had first seen the SHARD OF NIGHT. From time to time, she had travelled on White Stars, and had seen the bridge of one of those tiny, fast ships...she had assumed the bridge of this ship would be *something* like that. In a few respects, it was... But for the most part, it *definitely* wasn't. The bridge of *this* ship, as far as she could tell, seemed to be two oval chambers laid together at the rim. The forward chamber seemed to house an operational configuration *similar* to a White Star's, with at least seven primary stations visible at a quick glance (the Captain's chair in the middle, with six more stations for standing personnel in a hexagon around it) while the center of the rear chamber was dominated by what seemed to be a rather *large* holographic imager. She smiled; she could see how the imager would *certainly* prove useful in some situations she could imagine. Additionally, in between what amounted to about half a dozen engineering and scientific stations scattered around the bridge perimeter, there were two more, closed doors on either side of the rear chamber. What lay beyond those doors was, for now, unclear. For now, the bridge was absolutely *packed* with Minbari Worker Caste personnel, in the floor, in the ceiling, and everywhere else that mattered, while great coils of what appeared to be glowing *crystal* were wound out of hatches in close proximity to all the Minbari workers. Orders were being shouted, tools waved in the air...the scene could almost be called chaos. In short, *exactly* what every new ship in the galaxy looked like, prior to its first operational cruise...or *so* she was given to understand! "Ah!" A tall, nearing-middle age Minbari strode out of the gaggle of technicians filling the bridge, bowed briefly to Drakan, who bowed in return, before going about his duties. "Mr. President!...Miss Halloran. Welcome to Vi'dalae An'shaka...what you would, in your language, call the SHARD OF NIGHT. I am Captain Rahkeel, of the Storm Dancer Clan; I am at your service for the duration of your stay...I suspect, however, due to current conditions, that that may be shorter then even *I* may wish. Additionally, I must apologize for not meeting you in person, but upon your arrival, as you can see, we were, and still are, dealing with yet another 'minor' crisis in shipwide systemics...I believe you humans term such matters 'getting the bugs worked out of the system?'" Sheridan laughed politely at the small joke. "Does seem to be the case, doesn't it, Captain? Build a new ship, use an untried design, and even with the best engineers you can find, there's always *something* that goes wrong...or, usually, a host of little somethings." Rahkeel chuckled in turn. "Indeed that is so...Mr. President. But let us put small talk aside for the moment, and come to the real reason you have come here, this day, to learn of the Interstellar Alliances's newest and most *secret* warship...far more secret, you must admit, then even the far larger, and equally complicated hybrid destroyers you are currently having built. But there is a reason for that...a very good one, as you will soon see. For the SHARD OF NIGHT is the first, and I fear, the last of her kind to ever be built, due to the extreme expense incurred in that construction." "If I may inquire..." Tessa intejected, as the three made their way slowly around the catwalk on the perimeter of the rear chamber, passing several *very* interesting looking stations in the process...she knew a few humans who would kill for the visual technology in those stations *alone*... "Why so expensive? On the way over, the President told me this ship cost as much, or more, to build as one of your heavy cruisers." "That is *indeed* the case." Rahkeel admitted, a trifle grimly, as they passed through the portside hatchway, and into a surprisingly well-windowed conference room, at which point Rahkeel gestured Sheridan and Tessa to take a seat. "This ship was meant to be an experiment, you see; while the Sharlin heavy cruisers continue to perform their assigned duties well, and may, if all goes well, serve us for many more cycles, our engineers, as yours do, continually *strive* to work at the limits of their skills, creating new, dramatically different concepts and ideals. And to that end, eight of your years ago, when the first operational White Star was nearing completion, an engineer at one of our largest design consortiums began to make himself noticed. He had helped to design *many* of the systems in the White Star Class, and had not stopped at that, oh no. Filled with the need to better what had been done already, this Minbari, Varsak by name, began to see whether or not an operational *successor* to the Sharlin-class cruiser could be built...a much smaller ship to do, essentially, the same job, but with newer technology. Then, of course, the Great War happened, followed shortly by our Civil War, and Varsak's grand concepts fell on deaf ears, for at the time, other problems of state needed to be corrected, first..." "The Gray Council deemed it more necessary to repair the cities damaged in your Civil War..." Sheridan noted, "And so, for a while, funding would have been scarce for what Varsak was trying to accomplish. But eventually, that situation changed..." "Exactly, Mr. President. And as the Alliance began, with our aid, the work on the Hybrid Advanced Destroyer project, the funding that Varsak was looking for materialized once again, from sources that must, as you understand, remain classified for the time being. Within a *very* short time period, he was able to arrange to have a team assembled, and work on this ship, the prototype of his new class, begun." With a wave of one hand, Rahkeel darkened the room, and called a holographic impression of the SHARD OF NIGHT into being over the table. "Varsak was impressed with the Vorlon technologies used to protect the skin of the White Star Class, but he did not feel the technology had been taken *far enough* along...he also believed that the design of the White Stars had been too rushed. To balance this, Varsak proposed to construct a warship along the same lines, but more carefully thought out...better protected, and *far, FAR* more heavily armed, while, at the same time, nearly as maneuverable and *easily* as fast as the prior design." Rahkeel fixed each of them in turn with a calm, measured look. "He has succeeded, Mr. President!...but in that success, he managed to make the concept of a class of this type nearly impossible. For this is the *first* thing that makes this ship what it is, President Sheridan, Miss Halloran... The outer hull of this vessel is constructed *completely* out of the semi-Vorlon organo-composite material designed for the White Star class." "*Completely*?" Sheridan exclaimed. "Hell, no *wonder* this ship was so expensive to build! The layer in the White Star Class is, if I understand it, only about what, a quarter of an inch thick?" "Correct, Mr. President. In the SHARD OF NIGHT, we are talking, instead, about a multi-layered hull more then *three* of your feet thick, and since this ship is twice as large as a White Star, in every dimension, the cost was...substantial, and difficult for many to accept. But at the same time, that cost resulted in something I consider to be *remarkable*...Varsak believes that this ship could have taken *several* direct hits from a Shadow warship main weapon...and survived to *continue* the battle, with only minor damage." "Impressive, if it's true. Unfortunately, we're four years too late to test *that* hypothesis, Captain." A slight smile touched Rahkeel's face, at that comment. "And that is all to the good, in my opinion; I have no good memories of that time...but to continue. While the defensive weapons of this starship are impressive, the *offensive* capabilities are equally...notable." As Rahkeel spoke, various elements of the holographic model glowed in turn. "The main weapons array, a hybrid Vorlon-Minbari design based partly on the research undertaken for the Hybrid Destroyer Project, is equal in strength to a main battery on a Sharlin heavy cruiser...but there is a downside. While this weapon is operating, many other ship's systems will, unfortunately, diminish their effectiveness considerably for a short period of time. As both your own engineers and Varsak have determined, there is no escaping from that fate, on a ship this size, even with a fusion reactor *dedicated* to weapons output. The two *secondary* weapons batteries, which you would have noted between the two *upper* outboard engines on your final approach, are *each* equal in strength to the main battery on a White Star. And finally, if the SHARD OF NIGHT must fight in close quarters with fighters, there are a variety of stationary and trackable tertiary batteries at various points on the ship's outer skin...a total of nine such installations exist, in all." "I like what I've heard so far, Captain..." Tessa interjected at that point, drawing Rahkeel's attention away from Sheridan for a time. "The offensive and defensive capabilities of this design, combined with what the President has already told me about its stealth capabilities, begin to make me think that my Division can put this ship to good use. But how *easy* are some of the more normal ship's systems to use? What little I saw of the bridge makes me think this is going to be one *Hell* of a difficult beast to manage." "You are correct in that assessment." Rahkeel replied. "Miss Halloran. This ship is designed by Minbari, for Minbari. And since I am given to understand that a good number of your Covert Intelligence operatives are human, I fear that they will have great difficulty understanding our systems, without many months of training...months you do not have to waste on such matters. As such, the crew I have assembled will take you where you need to go, and support you in your mission. Drakan, I, and many of the other officers possess a fluent understanding of Human English...you will have no difficulty giving us orders we can understand." At that, a chime sounded, and a voice rattled off a string of words in Minbari. Rahkeel thought for a moment, and then barked a single word in response, before returning his gaze to the other two. "For now, though, I fear that a new situation has arisen which I must...attend to. I will have a member of the crew bring you refreshments if you wish to..." "No, I don't think that Ms. Halloran and I should take up any more of your valuable time, for now, Captain..." Sheridan replied, rising to his feet. "We really *should* be on our way back down to Minbar. Once you've taken care of all the preliminaries, and the SHARD OF NIGHT is ready to go on its first mission, just let me know. Then I'll let my Director of Covert Intelligence in on the loop." "And as you say, the 'fun' can begin." Rahkeel wryly noted. "Thank you, Mr. President; it is not every leader that is as understanding as you, but there is, I suppose, a very good reason for that. Good day to you both." And then, Rahkeel was gone. "They're never going to let you forget that, are you?" Tessa commented, as she and the President made their way off of the bridge, and back towards the hangar bay. Sheridan snorted. "They'll be telling their children that Delenn was responsible for teaching me table manners next, I suppose..." "Which is partially true, though, isn't it?" "Just don't tell *them*, that." "Heard and *understood*, Mr. President." * * * Early October, 2265. The Anla'shok Main Compound; Tuzanor, Minbar. For now, the outdoor practice circle was silent and dark, but it *was* late, there were no observers or watchers to see what was about to occur. Exactly the way that *she* wanted it. There were no distractions, no comments to be barely heard. There was only the battle between Master and Student...a battle with a history rooted in the sands of time. A Ranger stepped into the circle, and raised her gaze to the stars, above, and the Night between them...the Night that threatened; the Night that waited for them all. The Ranger was young, in her mid-twenties, by human reckoning, and dark-haired, as was nearly all her race, but this Ranger did not, of course, reckon her years as humans did...for *this* Ranger was a child of Brakir, near unique among the Anla'shok. Klairika Alidiae let her left hand slowly sink down to rest on the denn'bok that hung there, at her waist, a weapon honorably earned from the human she had come here to meet, tonight, and did *not* move her free hand to wipe away the stinging tears that hung at the corners of both her eyes. That would be showing weakness, and she would not bow to that fate...EVER. She would be strong, in her father's memory. At that, unbidden, her memories of the Time of the Comet, the Day of the Dead, came back to her...a time of renewed pain, of destiny, and of farewells. Of herself, waking to find her father in her room, a father who had died in the first Shadow attacks on Brakiri space back at the start of the Shadow War... * * * More then three years before...The Day of the Dead. "We felt no pain..." Zhaiykat Alidiae mused, as his longhaired daughter huddled in her bed, her face streaked by tears. "There was not enough time for that! The Shadows came upon us, and destroyed my ship...and for a time, it seemed as though I slept in peace. But then, the Day of the Dead came, as I knew it would, and I awoke, to find myself here." "Why did you come back? Why did it have to be *you*, father? I have spent the past four Xhakra resigning myself to the fact that you were dead, that my life had to go *on*. And then...and then, the Day of the Dead happened again...I was...I was afraid it was going to be you. I...I guess I *knew* it was going to be you, come to visit me. I didn't want it to be, but I guess it was..." "Necessary?" the elder Alidiae replied, nodding somberly. "Yes, my Dear One!...to all things there is a time, and a necessity. I know that my time here will cause you pain, but there is no escaping from that; for there is something I must tell you, something that will also cause you pain, but it *must* be said. The time is coming, soon, when you must leave your mother, Klairika, for your own good, *and* hers." "Your death destroyed her, father! I am the only thing she has left!" "Yes...and therein lies the problem, Dear One. As time passes, and you grow older, there will come a moment, soon enough, when the ties that bind will be too strong for you to break. She will add reason on top of reason to keep you here on Brakir, and objection on top of objection to stop you from leaving. I cannot allow that to happen, for I have learned things about you that even *you* may not believe. And unless you leave her, and your world of birth, there will come upon the universe a time of great death and of failure, and the failure will, to a great extent, be *your* fault." "Wha...Father, what is this you are saying? *I* will be responsible for this death, this failure?" "Yes, you will...through inaction, and lack of belief in yourself." "But how can I act to stop this? If I try and run away, but cannot find a way off of Brakir, I fear she will use her contacts amidst the Krona to make life difficult for me!" Her father conceded the point. "This is indeed so; even when I was alive, she misused her seniority and authority in matters such as these...and because of my choice in career, I was never there to moderate those choices. Klairika, you *must* leave her, and you must also use any means necessary to escape Brakir, or she will try and destroy you. Finally, there is an organization you must seek out, if you wish to stop the fate I have mentioned from coming to pass. The organization is named...ANLA'SHOK." At that, her eyes widened. "Anla'shok? The Rangers? Father, they are...they are heroes to so many of us! The stories that are told...how the human, Sheridan, lead the Rangers and their White Star Fleet against the Darkness, and banished it...are well known. And you wish me...to become one? To become an Anla'shok?" Her father nodded. "Yes, Klairika...in my memory, I ask it, for I see something you do not. The Darkness is not yet gone from the galaxy...even though the Shadows *themselve* are banished, the Darkness remains. And in time, that Darkness will reach out, and the fate I have mentioned will come to pass. It must *not* be allowed to happen, Dear One!...you must *work* to stop it. You must leave your mother, and become Anla'shok, it is the only way for you to help stop *it* from happening. Only then can you find the Promised One, and fulfill your fate. Do you understand, Klairika? *Will* you honour my last request?" The pause was infintesimal...and final, even though there were some things that her father had told her which she still didn't understand. "I will, Father...upon my heart, I swear, by your memory, I swear. It is sworn...it is *done*." At that, the elder Alidiae smiled. "Then at last...I can rest... In *peace*." * * * The present. A faint footstep brought Klairika back to the here and now, and with one, sure movement, her warrior pike was in her hand, and extended. "Who are you?" a familiar, steady voice demanded, from out of the darknes. "I am a Ranger..." she replied, voice steady and sure. "I walk in the dark places no others will enter. I stand on the bridge, and no one may pass." "Who do you serve?" "The One." "And what do you fight for?" "Honour. Freedom. Duty." "And is that enough?" Almost, she did not see the blow coming, but then Klairika turned, and with a flash of silver, raised her pike to parry the incoming blow from a weapon as old, if not older, then her own. The blow, as always, did not seek to injure, but to temper, and without thought, she settled into the dance this human woman had helped to teach her, two human years before, a human who was now a close friend. A dance of dignity, and of strength, a dance that had helped to teach her what she was, and what she wanted, and why. And then, the other backed away, and lowered her pike, and Klairika did the same, and then, they bowed to one another. "An honest match..." Jennifer Westcastle admitted, running one hand back through her slightly silver-streaked red hair. "I'm pleased to see that a year out on the Rim hasn't blunted your abilities any, Klairika." "Never. Even out in the Darkness, we are never alone; I remember you teaching me that even on a White Star, one can find a time and a place to practice the Dance." "Yes..." Jennifer murmured, a faint smile on her face, "I did say that, didn't I?" "Now...as for you, my friend, how goes the work on 'Storm Crosssing', if you do not mind me inquiring?" "Slowly, far too slowly for my own peace of mind. The other day, I finally managed to get up to the point where we left Minbar for the first time. It seems so long ago now...I was so young and naive at the time, Klairika!...we believed that all alone, we could take on the universe, and come back unchanged." At that, Jennifer smiled bitterly. "The years proved me wrong about that, Klairika...so much sadness, so much loss..." "And what of the victories? The love gained, in your path through the fire with the High Councillor? And of course..." Klairika wryly noted, "Your children." At that, Jennifer turned in mid-step, and snorted. "There I go again, getting all morose about time passing. Sooner or later, you know, you're going to have to hit me on the head with that pike of yours...it might knock some sense into me, if I'm lucky." "It is your right to feel the pain, but not, I hope, to grow too overwrought about the situation. It does not do us any good to destroy ourselves over past mistakes that we have no hope of correcting. It is the past, it is done; we must look to the future, and what is yet to be. And perhaps, if we do enough good, we will balance the scales, as well." "Who would have known, the day you became a Ranger, that the Anla'shok had gained a philosopher, as well?" A shrug. "I am Brakiri. When one is part of the generation fated to talk to the Dead, one tends to get, as you say, a little philosophical about things." "I can never tell, Klairika, whether or not you're kidding when you talk like this." "That, Sech, is *entirely* the point." * * * Late October, 2265; the edge of Minbari space; in hyperspace. "What have you found?" the Minbari captain demanded, as he came onto the bridge of his transport. "We do *not* know what to make of this..." the pilot replied, his expression dumbfounded. "The entire line-of-sight along the beacon is *littered* with wreckage. It is as if a mid-sized vessel was simply torn apart, out here...we do not understand how this *could* have happened! None of our ships in that size category are on patrol in this area, and...*hold*." The pilot put one hand to the small receiver on his neck, near to one ear. "We are receiving a distress signal...it is of *human* type. Do we move to intercept?" "Can we safely intercept the source of the signal, and maintain our lock on the beacon?" the Captain bruesquely inquired. "Affirmitive." "Then you may move to intercept. Notify the crew that we are attempting a rescue; if the pod is intact, and we can identify a life sign, they may have to investigate. Also, they are to enter the life pod armed; if the passenger turns out to be hostile, the passenger is to be disarmed, and disabled." "Understood; changing course to intercept." * * * Shortly thereafter, the freighter located the survival pod, deep within the debris field, and brought it aboard. As soon as the pressure in the cargo bay equalized, two armed crew moved slowly and cautiously through the crude human airlock, and into the pod, to determine the condition of the human life form noted within. As soon as entry was achieved, it became clear to the Minbari that the situation had changed, quite dramatically so. The survivor was a female of the Human species, quite unconscious, but other then that, apparently unharmed. But this was *not* what attracted the most attention from the two Minbari...oh no. What *did* was the black leather uniform the woman was wearing, complete with dark leather gloves, and a shiny metal insignia on one breast, that shouted, to the whole galaxy, what this woman was, and which organization she served, and how. For this woman was a human telepath...a powerful one, to be wearing the uniform she was wearing. And, of course, a member of their Psi Corps. By and by, the Minbari had heard rumours of the telepath conflict currently occurring back in Earthspace. How the conflict would end, none of them knew, but if this woman was the only survivor of an attack on her ship...if the aggressors were still out there, somewhere...then their own ship might be in danger, also. But what would bring a human ship this close to the edge of Minbari space... especially a vessel quite obviously controlled by a senior member of their Psi Corps? And then, the young human woman moaned, and the Minbari *instantly* became more alert, raising their weapons to the ready. They had heard of some of the policies instituted by these 'Psi Police' and the methods used...while neither of them had any telepathic abilities to speak of, they decided that they would not allow themselves to be controlled. And then, the woman's eyes sprang open, and their fears became astonishment. "Are you...oh, thank God! Minbari!" The woman sat up, and began to shiver. "I made it...oh *thank* you, Julia, you were right! I made it." "Excuse me. You are..." "Everything that I seem to be, and nothing like you're expecting." the human replied, her voice crisp. "That is enough for you to know, for the present time. In fact..." with near revulsion, the woman picked off the omega sigil from the uniform, and then removed her gloves. "I don't need those, anymore, I suppose..." "We do not understand. By your actions, are you...*rejecting* the laws of your Psi Corps?" "That's right; and no, I'm not going to tell you why. You're not the ones I'm looking for; *they're* on Minbar, in Tuzanor, to be more specific. You wouldn't be going to Minbar, by any chance, would you?" "Tuzanor is the Headquarters of the Interstellar Alliance." the elder of the two Minbari heatedly interjected. "It is *understood* that your Psi Corps and the ISA are *not* on good terms at the moment...for all we know, you have been sent to help destroy the Alliance!" The Minbari gestured his weapon in the telepath's direction. "Now, you will explain to us your intentions, and reason for that request...*and* you will tell us your name." "Well now..." the telepath replied, her face showing abject disappointment at how things had gone. "That was smart of me, wasn't it? Okay, let me start again...maybe it'll come out a little less arrogant, this time around. I need to go to Tuzanor...more specifically, I'm looking for a man by the name of William Westcastle...you may have heard of him? As for the reason why, well, I'm seeking *sanctuary*... before someone else decides to take my head off. And as for who *I* am, well I'm a Psi Cop, or at least I *used* to be. Human telepath rating...P12. And my name? My name... Is Sheynell Keynes. And are you going to put that gun down now?" * * * From: dgolding@connect.ab.ca Subject: STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS, Part 3 Date: Tue, 19 Jan 1999 17:38:15 STAR AND CIRCLE: "AS DARKNESS FALLS" PART III Hyperspace line of sight route to Minbar; Late October, 2265. Minbari Transport VIRASH. Captain Traveil of the Transport VIRASH was a practical man, he knew when danger was near. And because this was so, Traveil had been *more* then glad to leave the hyperspace wreckage field behind him. The feeling that someone, or some*thing* had been watching him and his crew during the rescue had been a stronger fear then anything he had known since the Shadow War. Traveil shook his head somberly...whether or not there had been any basis to the feeling, he did not know...did not *want* to know. This, because of the tale that the single human survivor of that wreck, a powerful, but young human telepath named Sheynell Keynes, had told them; a tale that both beseeched in its intensity, and veiled from sight the things she hadn't wanted them to know. Things that no one in his position should *ever* have to worry about; the movement of pieces on the playing field...murder and deception, and dark places that no one should *ever* have to know about...and also, what appeared to be the death throes of something that, in his opinion, the humans *never* should have created in the first place. These things had become clear to him during the duration of their conversation with the human...she had made clear to them that things were *not* going well back in Earthspace for telepaths, at the moment. In fact, according to her story, there appeared to be some doubt as to whether the human Psi Corps would survive the present crisis, as it currently existed...a great doubt, indeed... And as the upheaval of the Crisis had reached out even to *her*, Sheynell Keynes had decided to run, before things got any worse...before she lost her life as a result of the uniform she wore, the creed she had, before a certain moment, sworn to uphold. And at that defining moment, valuing her life more then her position, Keynes had decided to part ways with the organization that had created her, trained her, fed her...and *that* organization had *not* wanted to let her go, not with what she knew, not with the amount of time they had invested in her. The Psi Corps, as far as she could *tell*, had sent pursuit after her, and they had destroyed the ship she had stolen, attacked her without mercy, and left her for dead. And close to death, this young human now was, regardless of the vibrancy of her first encounter with him and his crew. Soon after their conversation had concluded, their telepath guest had collapsed, and fallen into a shallow coma; their onboard healer had, unfortunately, been unable to determine the nature of the coma, beyond the evidence of internal injuries suffered during the mysterious attack that had destroyed her ship. Before she fell into darkness, however, Sheynell Keynes had made it *quite* clear that upon their arrival at Minbar, if she was to survive, she wished to be placed in the care of the Rangers...and become a ward of the Alliance, if they would take her. Additionally, there was one Ranger in particular that Sheynell had been *most* insistent should know about the situation, and he had promised her, as she faded from the living world, that word *would* reach the Ranger in question, no matter how long it took. The name of that Ranger? Julia Tikopai. * * * White Star Four; the end of October... "Summoned, I come..." Julia stated, as she strode onto the bridge, Larieken close behind. "What do you require of me, sir?" "Interestingly enough..." Tashann replied, a curious expression on his face, "While the summons was mine to give, I am *not* the one who seeks you out, this day, Julia...observe, and learn." The Sha'vei nodded to the operations officer on station, and that Ranger nodded in reply, causing the holographic viewing curtain to descend into view...revealing to Julia's astonished gaze a familiar personage...someone she hadn't seen in a *very* long time, because of her duties. "Julia..." High Councillor William Westcastle began, his face grave behind its silver-dusted beard, "Thank you for your promptness...although I'm certain that you won't like to hear what I have to tell you. I fear that I must, for a time, recall you from your duties at Tashann's side...a situation has arisen on Minbar that requires your presence here, in Tuzanor." "Sir?" "Several days ago, a civilian Minbari transport encountered the wrecked remains of an Earth Alliance transport on the border between Minbari and Human space...they managed to locate one survivor. That survivor is known to you...a young human telepath by the name of Sheynell Keynes." Julia realized, almost distantly, that she had gasped, out loud. "I see that you *do* remember her, then...that's going to make this job quite a bit easier." "With all due respect...High Councillor. It is...*difficult* to *forget* the last encounter I had with Sheynell Keynes...and her...*master*." Julia could *feel* Tashann's gaze boring into her, and turned to meet his penetrating gaze. "You have...a question, sir?" "If I am to let you leave my side, even for a short time..." Tashann replied, "It would be...appropriate...to know all there is to know about this matter." "Sir..." Larieken interjected, "Allow me to explain. Slightly more then two standard years in the past, Anla'shok Tikopai, myself and a number of other Rangers were, by happenstance, on Babylon 5, and were able to help deal with a crisis that was besetting the station, at that time. An official of the Psi Corps familiar to us all named...*Bester* had arrived on the station to deal with an outbreak of terrorism caused by a cell of the organization known as the Byronites. At his side, almost, at that time, a fully authorized member of their police force herself, was a young human female, cold of eye, and of seemingly similar persausions, named Sheynell Keynes...I have no doubt that this woman and the one the High Councillor describes are one and the same. In any case, before the crisis was ended, Anla'shok Tikopai, I and a number of other Rangers were called upon to help *save* Miss Keynes from her enemies, and were able to help teach her a valuable lesson, as a result. At the same time, completely against her own will, Miss Keynes may have established somewhat of a rapport with Anla'shok Tikopai...perhaps history is about to be repeated..." "Exactly." High Councillor Westcastle interjected. "While Miss Keynes's condition, at the moment, is not good, the healers available to us here, both physical *and*, more importantly, *mental*, are working on her around the clock. Sooner or later, Miss Keynes *will* return to the waking world, and when that happens, Julia, I need you to be close to hand, to help deal with her, and her situation." "I don't understand, sir...we do have a history, as you've learned, but why *me*? Why is it *so* important for me to be near to her?" "A very good question, with an even more interesting answer..." the High Councillor replied. "It all comes down to two things, in the end...before her collapse, Miss Keynes asked the captain who rescued her for sanctuary among the Rangers...why, I don't know, yet, but I'm guessing we'll find out, eventually. But more importantly, for now, the other thing she told him is that there was ONE Ranger in the whole galaxy she wanted to know about this situation...spoke of that Ranger by *name*, as a matter of fact. That Ranger is you, Julia. And because of the request, I need you on hand, here in Tuzanor, until her recovery is certain...for if Miss Keynes is looking for help from the Rangers, we need to know if she can give *us* help, in return, and information, if possible..." She could see where this was going, now. Julia sighed...it was necessary, but she didn't have to like it. "...ever since the Telepath Crisis started, back in Earthspace, information on the status of the telepaths both in the Psi Corps and rogue camps has been hard to come by. This might just be our ticket to that information... we can't afford to waste the chance." She nodded curtly. "I understand, sir. You can count on me to help." "That's all I ask...for now. Isil'zha veni..." "In Valen's Name, we serve..." the Rangers on bridge all sharply replied, and then, the image of their High Councillor faded from sight. "Operations!" Tashann commanded, "You will set course for Minbar. Stand by on jump engines..." "Ready!" the Operations Ranger replied. "Proceed." "You appear troubled..." Larieken inquired of Julia, as the White Star 4 got underway. "May I ask why?" "I may have brought this on myself, Larieken. During the crisis, two years ago, I opened up to Sheynell more then I should have...and she did the same, in return. Getting away from Bester for a little while cracked that awful Psi Corps shell she had, and let out a little bit of the person inside. And like I said before, I probably brought this situation on myself." "How so?" "When we parted ways, I told Sheynell that if things ever went bad for her, back home, and if no one else would help her, that she could turn to the Rangers for help..." "And to conclude that line of thought..." Larieken surmised, "When Miss Keynes finally *did* think to turn to the Rangers for assistance, your name would probably have been at the *top* of her list." "*Exactly*." * * * Mid-November, 2265. Primary Care Facility, Tuzanor, Minbar. For the first time in a long, long while, Sheynell was aware of something *other* then the screams in her mind...both hers, and others. The others had come to hurt her, tracked her down only to hurt her, to make sure she wouldn't go over to the other side. She allowed herself to smile; that had *never* been the intent of her escape from the Corps; when things got as bad as they had, the only place she had wanted to go was *away from it all*...away from the madness, away from the mad dreams of grandeur that some of her fellow P12's had had. It was all so ironic...there had been a time, not so long ago, when she would gladly have fallen into that dark pool with the rest of them...a time when she had followd her master and idol, Alfred Bester, like a good little telepath should. Sheynell bit her lip, and fought down on the hurricane of emotions that threatened to swamp her. Slightly more then a year before, Bester had conferred upon her the right to do as he did...but she had passed *all* of his tests with 'flying colours', now, hadn't she? And also *stupid* enough to believe in all the dogma...all because, like all the other good little telepaths, she had been brought up to believe in the dream of superiority that so many senior members of the Corps had...that they were better then everybody else; better then the rogues, better then the misfits, and *certainly* better then the mundanes. Couldn't forget the mundanes, now could we? Nor the ones she had killed, for Bester. Before. She felt a tear trickle down one cheek, and onto the pillow beneath her head...it was almost sickening, the things she had done, for him, for the Corps. It had taken her a *very* long time to come to this realization; it wasn't until after she had become what Bester had wanted her to become, until *after* she had put on the black leather uniform that spoke, louder then words, the job she was expected to perform, that she had begun to slowly wake up to what was going on around her...the growing Crisis that had exploded in all its glory, the previous year; a Crisis continuing, even now. In the end, she supposed that it had been Brianna that had started her on this road...Brianna Tolmanes, the mysterious telepath who had once been a Ranger herself, and fought at the side of Sheridan's forces to stop the mythical 'Shadows' from destroying everything and everybody. Even *now*, she wasn't sure she believed all the stories that Brianna had told her about that time period, but she believed *some* of it, because on two occasions, both by design, Brianna had opened up, to reveal the secrets within her. The secrets left by her *former* masters, the Vorlons. And so, she had begun to have doubts. And the more she did her job the way she was supposed to, rolling out the rote phrases that had been programmed into her over the past twenty-odd years of her life in the Corps, the more the doubts pressured her. Until, finally, Brianna had confronted her, and told her to get out, while she still could; because if she stayed, Brianna had told her, Bester would, in the end, sacrifice her to ensure the success of his aims and ideals. And she was *damned*, the other telepath had said, if she was going to let that happen to as a good person as Sheynell could become. And so, she had run away. To start with, she had used her uniform, her status, to pull the roadblocks out of the way, escaping from Earth System just ahead of the order forbidding that escape. And later on...she had *no* doubt that Bester had sent those agents after her to ensure that no one ever found out about the secrets she knew. Brianna, however, had taught her a few tricks, for when that day had finally come...and she had *used* her gifts in ways the Corps had never taught her, to make her pursuers believe that they had succeeded in their mission. Not that she was able to completely escape from their ministrations...oh no. It seemed likely that sometime in the indeterminate period between her collapse in the hands of the Minbari crew, and her arrival in this place (wherever 'here' was.) she had drifted close to death. But maybe, just maybe, the Minbari captain, Trevail, had acceded to her request; maybe, just maybe, they had taken her where she wanted to go... And her present location seemed to agree with all those hopes. The room she found herself in was remarkably spartan, but for a care facility, well laid out...far more so then was common, in human facilities. The walls were curved and backlit, and there was a faint lavender tint to everything that was, no doubt, intended to calm the recepient of these quarters (she had to admit that it *was* working, after a fashion). Very slowly, fighting the almost terminal exhaustion she felt (how long *had* she been unconscious, anyways?) she got to her feet, and made her way slowly over to the nearby window...at which point, she finally allowed herself to smile. As far as she could see, great towers of crystal filled the night, glowing, majestic...alien; while overhead, two half-lit moons brightened the sky. She turned away from the window, and laughed...beyond all hope, she had finally *made it* to Minbar! She had managed to reach those people, above all others, who Brianna had said might be able to help her...if one could help a woman of Earth who was, for all intents and purposes, considered to be dead by most, if not all of her peers... And then, the door opened, and she whirled, her panic rising...who was... "Peace!" the Minbari at the door stated, his arms spread wide, his smile a smile of welcome. "There is no need for concern, Sheynell Keynes of Earth. You are among friends, here, in this house." The Minbari had a close-fitting gray tunic on, with a jade jewel on one breast...she almost laughed again, to see that. He was a Ranger!... "You'll have to, ah, forgive my lapse! I'm not used to this, not used to the...freedom, Mr...?" "I understand...and *my* name..." the Minbari replied, his expression still maddeningly calm, "Is Veyshahk, one time physician to the family Teleri, and now, to the Anla'shok, what you know as the Rangers." "Of course; I am...*very* pleased to meet you, Veyshahk. More pleased then you can possibly understand." "Indeed..." Veyshahk murmured. "I have no doubt that I will learn the reason for your apparent sincerity in due course...but for now, Miss Keynes, I would suggest that you return to your bed...you are far from fully recovered." And as if waiting for that very sentence, she wobbled, feeling a wave of dizziness come upon her. "There, you see? While the greatest crisis may have passed you by, until your strength has returned, it is best not to take matters too far. And *that* will not happen until you have *eaten* something." "How long?" she whispered, as she lay back down, almost bitterly. How *dare* her body let her down like this? "I suspect that it will take three, perhaps even *four* of your weeks to fully recover the strength that you lost during your time of crisis..." Veyshahk replied, his face grave. "And you *must* understand!...it has already been FOURTEEN of our days since your arrival on Minbar, and apart from brief periods of unresponsive lucidity in the past standard day, you have been unconscious for the remainder of that time." She blinked, at that. *Fourteen* days? "How bad was...the..." "Bad enough. The internal injuries you suffered at the hands of your attackers were significant ones. But far worse were the *mental* injuries that they inflicted upon you, I am afraid. It took the concerted efforts of one of our best telepaths to help return your mental state to something resembling normality...although, I am afraid, that there are some things you will have to do yourself, over the next little while, to ensure a full recovery. For now, though, I would suggest that you do *not* use your abilities, and until we are able to determine how bad things still are, it is best, as your kind say, to 'play it safe.'" She sighed, then, to hear that. "Of course." It was then, quite naturally, that her stomach decided to complain. "Uh...you wouldn't happen to have some...oh, *food* around here somewhere, would you?" Veyshahk laughed. "I'm sure that something can be arranged, Miss Keynes." "Oh, and one more thing before you go..." "Yes?" "There isn't a Ranger named...Julia Tikopai presently on Minbar, is there?" "That will be revealed to you in due course, Miss Keynes." Veyshahk replied. "For now, though, I would suggest a light meal, and then, some more rest, which will, no doubt, come upon you in any case once you have eaten." Come to think of it, he was right, Sheynell realized...now that the initial adrenalin rush of reaching her destination had worn off, exhaustion was certainly becoming a noticable effect, again. "I think you may be right, Veyshahk. You'd better get that food to me, soon!...because if you don't hurry, I probably won't be awake to eat it." "It shall be as you say, Miss Keynes; I will have one of our attendants bring the meal to you promptly. Besides that, I see no reason why we cannot continue this conversation in the day. Valen watch over you this night, Miss Keynes; until I see you next, I bid you good evening." And with that said, Veyshahk bowed slightly towards her, opened the door, and slipped outside. "You...don't say." she murmured, half in wonder. But greater wonders then she could believe, or understand, were still ahead of her. * * * What would later be seen as a portent for the future happened nearby, later that evening, as the evening flyer from Yedor arrived at the transport facility in Tuzanor. Traffic was light, and only a very small number of Minbari disembarked from the flyer. What *was* noticably different about this flight, however, was the *final* passenger who disembarked from the flyer, paused for a moment, and gazed appreciatively up at the moon-dazzled sky overhead. For *this* passenger was a *Drazi*, not as rare a sight in Tuzanor as before the arrival of the Interstellar Alliance headquarters, but less common then many of the other races who sent representatives here. "It was a long trip, yes...but maybe, this thing that I do will matter as much I think it does..." Dasouri muttered to himself, before beginning to rummage through the travel bag slung over one shoulder. "Now, the important question to have answered is, how do I find the Ranger Compound?" The Drazi muttered expressively in his own tongue as he searched his way through his belongings. "Where *is* the datapad I bought on Babylon 5...ah!" Dasouri held the item in question aloft, a wide smile on his face. It was time to begin what needed to be begun... And though Dasouri did not know it, future generations of the Anla'shok would mark this night as a turning point, as the beginning of something greater then any one Drazi... * * * To be continued... From: dgolding@connect.ab.ca Subject: STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS, Part 4a Date: Tue, 19 Jan 1999 17:47:08 STAR AND CIRCLE: "AS DARKNESS FALLS" PART IV:I "Assembling a force of nature takes a little bit of prior planning..." * * * The Office of Sha'vei No'raden William Westcastle. Tuzanor, Minbar. Late November, 2265. With as peaceful an expression as could be managed under the circumstances, William Westcastle, the man that some among the Anla'shok still, even to this day, named Rimstalker, stood in the tall window that occupied one whole corner of his office in the Tower of the Council, and tried not to worry about what needed to be done, and how it *should* be done. He looked out upon the surroundings...and sighed; it was a fine day outside, more then fine for this season on Minbar. A few puffy clouds drifted across an otherwise completely clear sky, and the sunlight shone down cleanly upon the brown and gray cloth of his robes. He shook his head regretfully; in weather such as this, it was only the duties of state and position that kept him from being out there, playing with his son and daughter, as was *right*. But those duties were a clear and present necessity, for the present; and until the Telepath Crisis back on Earth resolved itself, one way *or* the other, he would see his children far less then he might have wished. Far less. At that point, the all too familiar sound of the doors to his office opening alerted him that the task at hand was about to begin, and he turned from the view to note the arrival of two young women into his chambers. The first, her long black hair tightly braided, as usual, her Ranger uniform spotless, was dear to him, now; in some respects, he supposed that by now, he almost treated Julia as he would his own daughter. The other, however, was the *prime* concern of this meeting; Sheynell Keynes, former member of the Psi Corps, now recovered from the injuries she had suffered during her defection from the organization that had created her... "Summoned into your presence by Anla'shok Tikopai, I have come." the young telepath began, fixing him with a steady gaze. "As is proper. I have asked for sanctuary, and Citizenship within the Interstellar Alliance...and now that this has been conditionally approved, sir, due to the Crisis, back home...how may I use my gifts to aid you and yours?" "Well, now!..." he replied, "That *is* the question of the hour, isn't it, Miss Keynes?...and we must find an answer to to that question, before you leave this room." "I understand." "We shall see...take a seat, both of you." Once his two guests had done just that, William took a deep breath, and began. "Miss Keynes; now that you have sufficiently recovered from the injuries you suffered during your recent escape from the Psi Corps, the time has come, as you indicated, to discuss the conditions of your sanctuary amongst the Anla'shok, and within the Alliance. For starters...the High Council has decided that you should tell us all you can about the Crisis, as it currently stands..." At that, Sheynell Keynes reached inside her pocket, and withdrew a data crystal. "During my period of convalescence, Anla'shok Tikopai suggested that I spend several hours dictating a copy of the information you need, sir...it's all there, everything you'll possibly need to know, about the...current situation, back home." William raised one eyebrow; well that had been quick and painless, hadn't it? "Your openness is appreciated, Miss Keynes, though I do wonder *why* this is so; is it not one of the principles of the Psi Corps that its telepaths shall *not* reveal things to normals, that those normals don't need to know, or hear?" "That is correct, High Councillor...but I am no longer a member of that organization, now am I?" He smiled, at that barb. "So it would seem, Miss Keynes...so it would seem." At that, William turned his attention to Julia. "Anla'shok Tikopai! ...it is my understanding that upon her rescue, Miss Keynes requested that you should be the one, above all others, to know about her defection from the Psi Corps. As such, it is my hope that you have, shall we say, researched this matter to the full extent of your abilities. I will now accept your input on this situation." The Ranger that he and Jennifer had helped to train, several years before, straightened in her seat. "Sir!... during my initial conversations with Miss Keynes, it has quickly become apparent that she can aid us in matters above and beyond her generous offer of inside information about the Crisis. For instance...I have learned that Miss Keynes has spent the majority of the past three years serving as an assistant to a somewhat infamous, and certainly senior, member of the Corps. A P12 telepath named Alfred Bester." "Interesting..." he muttered. "Miss Keynes, I would be *very* interested to know how you managed to survive *that* period of service." "It was not easy at times, High Councillor...but I managed." Sheynell rose, then, to walk over to the window, before looking back at the two Rangers. "In fact, for a very long time, I saw Mr. Bester almost as a hero, someone to look up to... someone to, shall we say, *emulate*." The telepath shook her head, almost sadly. "In the end, that blind spot the Corps programmed into me almost got me *killed*." William nodded darkly. "That, I *can* understand, from what I know about Mr. Bester. Anla'shok Tikopai...if you would be so kind as to continue?" A nod. "Sir. Interestingly enough, it also seems that Miss Keynes chose to specialize in battle tactics and rules of engagement with enemy forces. It seems likely, from her testimony, that the Psi Corps had been preparing for this Crisis for some time now...and it is all too probable that the Corps intended to use Miss Keynes, in her role as a member of their secret police, to lead groups of other telepaths on strike missions, deep into enemy territory. Why this did *not* come to pass is another question we must have answered; a matter that Miss Keynes would not address, until our meeting today. It comes down to this, sir...*what* caused her loyalties to shift away from an organization she served willingly, and without question, the last time we encountered one another?" William turned his attention back to his other guest, his gaze now hard. "I would have the answer to this, question, Miss Keynes!...*now*, if you don't mind." The telepath nodded somberly, before turning to Julia. "I hope that you will forgive my earlier reluctance, but this *had* to wait until we reached the High Councillor, and now, perhaps you will understand why that is so. The answer you are looking for, sir, is simpler then you might expect; since the one *most* responsible for my defection is known to you both..." William rose from his seat, then...could it be? "This telepath...would her name, by any chance, be Brianna Tolmanes?" "That is correct." Sheynell replied, a surprisingly warm smile now on her face. "Perhaps you may now *understand* why, and more importantly, *how*, I was able to break away from the Corps?" He exchanged a quick glance with Julia, then, to find, as expected, that she was as astonished and relieved to hear about this as he was; for Brianna had been a friend to Julia, as well, in her time among the Rangers...and it was *good* to hear that she was still alive, fighting the battle against the Darkness, if in her own way. "This is remarkable news, Miss Keynes, remarkable...indeed!" But Sheynell's smile faded, then, as she rose from her seat, and walked slowly over to the window, to gaze out over the Compound, and the Rangers moving about their duties, below. "I can...*see* that you are both pleased to hear that Miss Tolmanes aided me in my escape...but I fear that I *cannot* confirm what you *most* want to hear. When I left Earthspace, the hounds of War were right on our heels...things didn't look too good, sir...and Brianna, she was always the one to place herself right in the middle of things...right in harm's way..." At that, Julia rose, and moved to comfort the now emotional Sheynell, which gave William the moment he needed to make up his mind about the whole situation. "I understand...Sheynell...all too well, how you could be upset about this situation. Brianna was a friend to us all, and when Mr. Bester forced her to leave us behind, it was a dark day for the Rangers...a dark day indeed. But in bringing *you* to us, Sheynell, Brianna has both hurt the Psi Corps and possibly given us back the edge we possessed when she was one of us, during the battle against the Shadows...and after. An edge that the Rangers need, if we are to survive, prosper, and continue to pursue the war against the Darkness that lives beyond our borders...and guard against the enemies of the Alliance we have sworn to protect, with our lives. I ask you this now, Sheynell Keynes; in exchange for our protection, will you serve us, as Brianna Tolmanes once did? Will *you* become Anla'shok, and begin to fulfill a different, better destiny under our banner, and the Alliance's?" After a moment, a now quite shocked Sheynell Keynes turned her tear-streaked face to meet his gaze once more. "This *offer*!...I wasn't expecting...I didn't think you would take me, after..." "The sins of the past cannot be ignored, Sheynell." he replied, smiling patiently. "But with hard work...and with service in the right places, and for the right reasons, those blemishes *can* be erased from your conscience. To put it most simply, *if* you choose to serve with us, *as a Ranger*, you are serving in the name of justice, and for the forces of Light. You *can* choose to see this service as a redemption of sorts...and in my opinion, it can *certainly* be considered as a positive change of career." "Do it, Sheynell!..." Julia entreated, as the telepath wavered, torn between two worlds, between the past she had known, and a future yet uncertain. "I *know* you can. You can trust my word, and the High Councillor's...we would *not* lie to you. We are Rangers, it is, after all, against our code!" "Well, Sheynell?" he entreated, one last time. "What will it be?" There was an infitesimal pause, and then, the telepath turned back towards them, her expression now one of gratitude. "It is...a most generous offer, High Councillor!...and the bargain *is*, I will admit, a just one. To work off the sins of my past in such a manner was not something I was expecting...but I've always *liked* new challenges, and this certainly qualifies as *one*!" And then, Sheynell finally smiled again, and wiped the tears off her cheeks. "And in the final analysis, it honours the memory of what *she* did, in service to your One...am I right?" "*More* then right, Sheynell..." he reassured her, as beside Sheynell, Julia breathed a sigh of obvious relief. "On *all* counts!" "And now this has been decided to everyone's satisfaction..." Sheynell inquired shakedly, "What comes...next?" "Anla'shok Tikopai!" "High Councillor!" "You may start explaining to *Lakotal* Keynes what will now be expected of her." "With pleasure, sir." Julia replied, before turning to the prospective new Ranger. "If you will please follow me?" * * * Another office, later that day. "Mr. President." William inquired, as he stuck his head into the office of the President of the Interstellar Alliance, "May I speak with you, if you're not *that* busy?" "William." Sheridan replied, his attention half on other matters. "Come on in. You will, however, have to be brief, this time around...it seems like I've got a hundred different things to attend to, right now, and your weekly report on Ranger matters is *way* down towards the bottom of the totem pole, at the moment." "Perhaps I *may* be able to change that opinion, sir." Sheridan smiled wryly at that comment. "This I've *got* to see." William nodded calmly, in return. "I *believe* that I MAY have begun to determine a solution for your problem regarding the covert prototype starship known, in human terms, as the SHARD OF NIGHT...sir." At that, the President stopped what he was doing, and raised his gaze to meet the Ranger's. "You know what?...over the time I've known you, William, I've noticed you that you seem to have a knack for getting my full attention, when the matter actually *is* important. And I've *also* learned, from experience, that when you say you've 'begun' to find a solution to something, that solution is usually going to be one *Hell* of a good one." "So I would like to believe, Mr. President...if you will just let me explain..." * * * Early December, 2265...Primary Ranger Training Facility, Tuzanor, Minbar. "Ah!...Turval, there you are!" Durhan declared, as he strode briskly into the meditation chamber, which was, of course, packed full of meditating Ranger trainees from the various races in the Interstellar Alliance. "I had *heard* that you wished to speak to me about one of our recent recruits?" "Yes...now how shall I put it?" Turval mused, as he moved aside to speak to the other Minbari. "He worries me, Durhan...certainly, we have had a number of Drazi recruits in the past several cycles, but never one quite like *this*!" "Hmm...yes, I can see what you mean." Durhan inclined his head towards a Drazi meditating in the corner of the chamber. "That's him, over there, I suppose?" "Yes...it seems *scarcely* imaginable! He is a member of a race notable for their aggressive tendencies and problems with finding peaceful solutions to matters..." "Or, for that matter, keeping their calm, on *general* principles, when it comes time for them to decide which, ah, *party* will rule their homeworld..." "And yet, here we seem to have a Drazi who *enjoys* meditating." "Does look that way, doesn't it?" Durhan paused, thought about that for a moment, and then looked at Turval again, a little more thoughtfully, now. "Now I think I understand *why* you are so worried, Turval." "Enough!" Turval declared. "Before we go *any* farther with his training, we must discover the *reason* behind this apparent peacefulness. Dasouri!" The Drazi in the corner rose to his feet, his expression maddeningly calm, and approached the two Minbari. "Master. You summoned me?" "Yes..." Durhan began. "Dasouri, of the Drazi, there are a number of concerns we have, regarding your background. Nothing terribly complicated, I assure you!...but before we continue with your training, we would...*appreciate* it if you would answer a question for us..." "This is...not good!" Dasouri replied, his expression now alarmed. "Honored instructors, both!...it seems to me that I have, somehow, given you cause to *doubt* my sincerity in coming here! I do not know how this might have occurred...but I, Dasouri, will work *hard* to calm your concerns. Ask your question, and I *will* answer it, to the best of my abilities. I will *not* disappoint you...I *cannot* disappoint you, if I am to succeed in my quest." Durhan and Turval looked questioningly at one another...quest? "Do not worry, Dasouri...I am sure that once you have answered our question, everything will be *fine*." And then, Durhan pointedly turned and glared at his fellow Sech. "Turval?" "When first you came here..." Turval began, "We did not inquire into your reasons for coming as closely as we should have, Dasouri...but over time, we have noticed that you seem to be, well, far *calmer* then many of your fellow Drazi...and more accepting of the ways of the Anla'shok, and of the teachings of Valen. Why is this so?" "Ah!" Dasouri replied, his relief *very* apparent. "I should have *expected* this question...but I did not think to wonder why it had not been asked, so happy was I to have arrived in the right place, to do the right thing! Now, what is the best way to explain?...ah, *yes*." Dasouri straightened. "Honoured instructors!...to understand my nature, you *must* understand my concerns. Drazi known to be very warlike people; need to fight gets Drazi in trouble far more then I, Dasouri, can bear; there are too *many* examples of conflict between Drazi and other races...so I, Dasouri, decided to act!...decided to speak to rest of Drazi, to try and make warlike Drazi think of more peaceful ways to solve their problems..." "It does make sense to want to try, doesn't it?" Turval mused. "But I can *guess* the sort of response you may have received..." Dasouri nodded his head sadly. "Too many times, Drazi have come close to destruction...bad enough, that every five years, tradition calls on us to fight one another in battle of Green and Purple, but worse has happened recently, this you know. So, I *leave* Drazi homeworld, leave because Drazi people not want to listen to words of peace. Left, because slowly but surely, I became an outcast from family, from people, because of my beliefs. Very disheartening...but because I could not reason with warlike Drazi, I decided to search elsewhere, to look for Drazi who thought as I do. Initially, thought to travel to Babylon 5, to try and speak of peace in that place. But most Drazi on Babylon 5 the same as *everywhere* else, come too easy to anger, too ready to fight." Dasouri sighed. "Finding this out, almost I decided to travel elsewhere, there and then...but before I could leave Babylon 5, I discovered something *astonishing*...learned of great work named Book of *G'kar*." "Well, now..." Durhan murmured in Turval's ear, "Now *this* may be the most surprising revelation of all..." "G'kar, in his book..." Dasouri continued, "Spoke of the way of Peace, and need to find purposes other then fighting. Also, G'kar spoke of pointlessness of seeking revenge to redress past mistakes. Drazi have not learned this lesson, honored instructors, perhaps they *never* will...but then again, perhaps I am too quick to judge them. But in any case, I was *very* happy to discover great writer and speaker, who thought as I do." Dasouri sighed, then. "I would *very* much like to meet G'kar, but G'kar cannot be found easily." "No..." Turval replied warmly, "And that is for a very reason, Dasouri. Several years ago, a great many of G'kar's followers decided that idolizing the *writer* was more important then understanding the principles of the work." "Ah!" Dasouri mused darkly, "I suspected, from what the Narns on Babylon 5 told me, that this might have been the case. But did not wish to inquire *too* closely, I did not want Narns in that place to get angry at me!...but now, I must *conclude* my tale; having discovered the way of G'kar, I then learned of the Rangers, and decided that the best way to help my people would be to become a Ranger. Once this has happened, honored sirs, I will be able to help keep the peace between Drazi and the rest of the Alliance, and practice the ways of G'kar at the same time." Dasouri bowed, then, to the two Minbari. "I hope, that this explanation helps you to *understand*? I am not like most Drazi, wish, instead, to help work in way of peace." "Yes..." Turval replied, a tone of near astonishment in his voice, "I believe that it does, Dasouri; in fact, it is a pleasant change to find, once in a while, a Drazi such as yourself. You may return to your meditation." "There!..." Durhan stated, his grin broad. "As I've always said, Turval, you are far too quick to worry about matters such as these. He will, in my opinion, make a *fine* Ranger eventually, although, the question that must be answered, in my opinion, is how will the Rangers *use* his talents?" "Oh, I'm *sure* the Council will come up with something appropriate for Dasouri to do when the time comes..." * * * The Westcastle Household; Christmas Day, 2265. "This tradition of yours..." Klairika commented, as two dark-haired, nearly four year old demons of destruction ran howling around the house, playing with their new toys, "Is something I have always found somewhat confusing; Jennifer, you must explain to me how giving gifts to one's family equates with honoring the birth of one of your race's religious icons...?" "It's...a long story, I'm afraid!" Jennifer wryly replied, as she bent rapidly down and intercepted the headlong rush of her daughter, Celia. "William!..." "I've got him!..." her husband called from the kitchen, where unique smells (to Klairika) had been emanating for some time, now. "Now, getting Richard to stay still when the other guests arrive is going to be a tough one, however." "I'm *sure* we'll manage, somehow." William snorted, as Klairika moved by, towards the balcony beyond. "Ironic, isn't it? I've commanded dozens of White Stars in the largest battles the galaxy has ever seen, and I can't even get my own son and daughter to sit still for more then a minute." "Comes with the season, love." "I suppose." William muttered. It was then, of course, that the long chime of the door signal sounded. "Jennifer!...I believe that young Miss Tikopai and her...guests have arrived." "I'm on it!..." came the faint call from the other end of the tower. Klarika smiled, as she moved out onto the balcony, and gazed out across the vista of crystal towers that was central Tuzanor, and into another of the brilliantly coloured sunsets that this part of Minbar was famous for. Even though the Westcastle children seemed, at times, to be an almost unstoppable force of nature, she was happy for both Jennifer and her husband. They had their children, and each other...who did she have? "Hello...I don't believe we've been introduced." Klairika turned on one foot, to see a young human woman appraising her with interest from the doorway to the balcony. "Although, Jennifer *has* spoken of you from time to time...you would be Klairika, of the Brakiri House Alidiae?" "Yes...although from time to time, that house connection is one I would rather forget. And in turn, please let me practice *my* knowledge of those that our hosts would be certain to invite to meal, on this, your greatest of festivals. I am pleased to have finally met you...Julia Tikopai." "Interesting..." the other Ranger murmured, one eyebrow inclined. "That was a good guess, on your part." "It seemed *easy* to deduce, from the High Councillor's bellow, who you might be. Although I would be interested to learn who you have brought with you to what will be, as far as I can tell, one of the most interesting evening meals I have yet to experience." At that comment, Julia nodded, a devious smile on her face. "William and Jennifer are trying to honour the holiday customs of both Earth *and* Minbar in this meal, not the most easy of tasks, but I'm guessing they'll manage, somehow. And as for *who* I've brought with me, well...here they are!" Klarika turned, to see a young Minbari male and another human woman arrive on the balcony. "Klairika...this is Larieken, onetime member of the Wind Swords Clan...and a Ranger who has stood loyally by my side, for longer then I have deserved..." "She exaggerates, of course..." Larieken commented, a small smile on his face. "It is an honour to meet you, at last, Anla'shok Alidiae; I have heard of your work among the Rangers, and what I hear is good." "And this..." Julia continued, "Is someone I am *very* pleased to have join us here, on this night, at this meal, one of newest recruits, and someone that Larieken, I, and a number of other Rangers have decided to befriend...perhaps you will be another. Klairika...this is Sheynell Keynes..." * * * Later that evening... "The meal was excellent, sir..." Sheynell declared, as Jennifer cleared off the remains from the candlelit table, leaving her husband the task of keeping the children under control, and their guests, sufficiently entertained. "I thank you for your hospitality, this night." The High Councillor smiled, in return. "For now, Sheynell, we are off duty, and the training day is concluded; there is no need for such formalities." The young telepath smiled her understanding at that comment...it was clear, to him, that her new existence among the Rangers would be a greater freedom then she had ever experienced before, and he would do everything in his power to continue that pattern...bringing her into Julia's circle of companions had *clearly* been the right thing to do. "Julia and Larieken tell me that you have very nearly recovered from the injuries you sustained during your escape." "Yes..." Sheynell replied matter of factly, "And there are several Rangers, here in Tuzanor that are more or less responsible for that. The first is one of your physicians, a Minbari named Veyshahk." "Ah, yes; Veyshahk is known to me. He takes his calling *very* seriously, and for it to be *him* who helped you recover is a good omen, Sheynell...a good omen indeed." "So it would seem; even when I judged myself sufficiently recovered from my ordeal, Veyshahk cautioned me against using my abilities, until we knew for *sure* that I hadn't suffered permanant damage at the hands of the Corps...and that was where another Ranger, Vahzil, offered his aid..." "Isn't Vahzil a telepath, as well?" Julia inquired, from the other side of the table. "Exactly..." Larieken commented. "A rarity, among our kind, for normally, Minbari telepaths are not allowed to join the Anla'shok. Vahzil, however, was *persuasive* about the matter when it came time for him to choose his path, and surprisingly enough, the elders of his family acceded to the request." "In my opinion..." Klairika commented, "This has only been a good thing for you...Sheynell. I will *assume* that Vahzil's aid revealed you had recovered properly, else, you would not be smiling as you now are..." "Yes..." Sheynell mused. "It was *fascinating*, to touch the mind of a telepath *not* of the Corps. And for the first time in my experience, the touch was not what I expected; you have to understand that part of the Corps training that Brianna Tolmanes helped to break was our distrust of telepaths from other races. This experience, of course, only reinforced the truths she taught me..." "That was Vahzil's intent, I suspect...to aid you, in your recovery. Never forget, Sheynell...you are one of *us* now, and the Rangers will do everything in their power to help you, now that you have joined us." Shenell nodded. "That, I suppose, could be one of the better Christmas gifts that I've yet to receive..." Smiling a secret little smile, William moved off towards the kitchen for a moment, one of his children in each hand, to meet another one of his wife's 'I know what you're up to' looks. "I told you so." Jennifer smiled, and nodded in return. "Okay...so once in a while I *am* wrong. Nobody's perfect...so what plot are you spinning out, this time around?" "Maybe not just yet...but in a couple more years, *that* will be the NUCLEUS of the Ranger command crew the President is expecting me to build for him." "And what, do you suppose, will be Julia's response, when the President gives her command of this new ship?" "Surprise..." William mused. "Reflection. Consideration. And, I believe... Appreciation." * * * From: dgolding@connect.ab.ca Subject: STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS, Part 4b Date: Tue, 19 Jan 1999 17:50:42 STAR AND CIRCLE: "AS DARKNESS FALLS" PART IV:II "...and the wait can sometimes be a trying one..." * * * Interstellar Alliance Starship SHARD OF NIGHT; patrol near the Drazi/Centauri border...December 31st, 2265. Night Watch...Engineering. Assistant Engineer Nicolas Dawson reclined in his chair as far it would go, and scowled. Director Halloran had sent Captain Rahkeel and his crew out along the edge of Centauri space...through what could be theoretically considered as hostile territory, since he seriously doubted the Centauri would be *happy* to find them there...and wouldn't you know it? The Minbari *didn't* celebrate *anything* at this time of year, it was just *another* day on the job for the lot of them. Nicholas shook his head bitterly...the good Director has *completely* forgotten about the *sole* human member of the crew, now hadn't she? "Happy New Year to me..." he muttered. Yee ha...and Happy Holidays too, for good measure. On top of everything else, Nicholas seemed to have been cursed with a superior who didn't seem to believe in the concept of holidays from the job. Varsak was brilliant, but once in while, he could also be a serious pain...and most of the time, the Director was no better. Because while they *had* undertaken a couple of interesting missions since September, for now, things were quiet. And that, of course, just meant *another* long patrol. Ah, well!...it wasn't as if the Centauri even *had* the technology to detect the SHARD OF NIGHT...Varsak had made sure of that. And there hadn't been a mission the Director had given them *yet* that they had needed to fight their way out of... Although Nicholas *had* been impressed with the weapons trials they had conducted using the primary and secondary weapons arrays. He smiled; the main gun, by itself, was *certainly* comparable in strength to the main guns on those new destroyers that the ISA was building...maybe not *quite* so jarringly powerful, but the SHARD's weaponry packed a hell of a punch, for her size. And for now, everything seemed to be in order...Nicholas rose to his feet. "Lisaki!" "Yes, sir?" his Minbari assistant replied. "Lisaki, I'm think I'm going to go for a walk; if anything goes *terribly* wrong, link in and let me know. In any case, I'll be back in five...wouldn't want to upset the Chief, after all, now would we?" The Minbari smiled a patient, understanding smile. "Of *course*." Nicholas grinned at a little, at that response...Lisaki had, to his great surprise, been very understanding about the situation, and if anyone could be considered a friend aboard, Lisaki would be that friend. Soon enough, Nicholas came to an observation area; beyond the pressure-treated viewport, the ruddy, unforgiving Hell of hyperspace glared back at him...just how *had* gotten himself into this? Was this what it was *all* going to be like?...every holiday, between now and...when? It had been *enjoyable* designing this ship with Varsak and his team...but was he really enjoying things, as they were now? He didn't know anymore...wasn't sure how much more of this loneliness he could take. A hundred light years from the nearest member of his kind, surrounded by darkness, working with members of a race he still didn't really understand. Damn it all!...he had to admit, if only to himself, that he missed his world...and his family, too. And in the end, it seemed as if he had sacrificed everything he cared for to have everything he wanted. Not a fair bargain...not a fair bargain, at all. But there was worse; because of the vows he had made to Varsak, the secret pact taken at the beginning of the trial...there didn't seem to be any way out of this mess. And he *seriously* doubted that Varsak would give him one, in any case... It was then, of course, that his chronometer alerted him, a chime speaking of the unknown yet to come... * * * In the darkness, things were moving...enormous things. And there were those, of course, who saw this as a wonderful thing. They were creatures who had served with *dignity* for millenia, and then had seen that dignity torn away and destroyed by a race that knew not the meaning of the word *service*. The Highest of these beings smiled to one another, and saw their work to be good...for *everything* they had attempted, thus far, had succeeded, the greatest example, of course, being their manipulation of the race named by some 'Centauri', and the punishment and subjugation of that race's Emperor, Londo Mollari. That success let them believe that their *next* objective would also succeed; that the race most responsible for exiling their Masters beyond the Rim would also be made to suffer for their crimes. Yes...the Humans would be made to *suffer* for what one of their kind had done...and in a manner both devious, destructive, and *final*. For the Drakh had been working towards this for a *very* long time, now. And as far as the Drakh knew, there was no one in the universe who knew of what they were planning. Fortunately, of course, the Drakh were *not* infallible. Cruel, yes...but *not* infallible. * * * Was I bold enough, at the end of the beginning, to make a prediction of what would yet be? How wrong I would end up being, and yet, at the same time, so right...because, as everyone now knows, the Earth Year 2266, a year of Light, a year of possibiliites, would lead us inexorably into a time of pain greater then mankind had ever endured, before...and also usher in something I *never* could have predicted... Because, you see, despite my Calling, I still had so *much* to learn, and I had yet, of course, to meet the Instructor who would tell me everything I needed to know, and nothing that I wanted to hear... * * * From: dgolding@connect.ab.ca Subject: STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS, Part V (repost) Date: Fri, 22 Jan 1999 01:43:45 Writer's Note: Now that things are properly set up, this chunk skips across almost the Earth Year 2266. Skipping, like a stone, towards a fateful rendezvous with the Drakh...a time of tragedy, a time of war...and a time for desperate choices. A time of change. * * * But in post-script, thanks must go to Stephen Barringer, fellow Producer, and WANDERING STAR creator, for his aid in exercising grammatical control over this beast, before it wanders off to plot more literary mayhem... Let's try this again, shall we? STAR AND CIRCLE: "AS DARKNESS FALLS" PART V "Now you understand the initial movements. The next twelve months were, to us, as moments of twilight in an ocean of darkness..." * * * Mid March, 2266. On the world named, by some, Sanctuary, the technomage known to some as Galen stood, as he had ever been, alone. This was not the first time this had been the case, and it would, if all went as he believed, certainly not be the last. And then, a movement alerted him that the One who had agreed to meet with him had arrived. "Galen. I have come, as you requested...ask your question." "Damane. Is it true?" "Yes...it is." "I must know everything about this matter." Galen paused contemplatively for a moment, evaluating the other's expression. "And while I understand that this does not please you...ask I must, for it is necessary." The human, one of those who had left Babylon 5 with a Vindrizi within him, three years previously, nodded at this. "We understand the need, Technomage!...but we do not have to like the reason. We will help you, this time, for we remember the bargain your kind and ours made, thousands of years ago. You would, however, be wise NOT to press us too closely, in the future...we do not like to be used in such a fashion." Galen half-bowed, his expression solemn. "I understand, Damane...more then you can possibly know. But this is a necessary evil; if the need had not been so certain, I would never have approached your kind for this information. However, time is running out, and soon enough, I must put even this matter aside, for a time, and deal with a far more...*critical* issue." "That is for you to decide." Damane replied, his expression cold. "Now, we shall take our leave of you *and* your world, Technomage. We have fulfilled the bargain; the rest is up to you." Galen nodded, and once more faced into the fire, his own purpose clear. It was time to cast the spell... * * * The world named Talangahta VI...on the Rim of known space. There was, upon the face of the universe, at the edge of the part of the galaxy known to Mankind, one part of a group of refugees from chaos, who named themselves Zha'shailyl. Their former Masters, known to most of the younger races as the SHADOWS, had long since been banished from this wheel of stars by the Younger Races...and the Zha'shailyl had made a choice, a terribly practical choice, when they had turned aside from the rest, turned away, essentially, from the Path, and gone their own way. This, as the remnants of what had once been called, by some, the Dark Circle, had left Z'ha'dum's funeral pyre behind. It had not, apparently, been the correct one for them to make. Their faces bitter and fearful, the Zha'shailyl Elders sat at table, and discussed what had come to pass...something terrible, something they had *never* thought to see again, in their lifetimes. They had come to Talangahta VI, believing that there was a way, now that the Masters were gone, for them to start making a new life for themselves, for their families...their children. That hope had been shattered; the previous day, a mighty fleet had appeared in their skies, a fleet controlled by those who had once stood equally beside them in the Circle; the ones who named themselves...Drakh. And behind that fleet, its blackness covering half the sky, had come a planet destroyer, one of the greatest, and by far the *deadliest* of weapons their former Masters had ever created. A weapon they had also never thought to see again...for it *frightened* them. And the Drakh had sent an ultimatum; the Drakh knew that the Zha'shailyl had turned from the Path, and while the Drakh understood the reason they had done it, and why, they had decided that the time was now coming when such a thing could no longer be allowed. The High Drakh had decided that all members of the former Circle who could be found were to return to the Path, at once...and in return, the Drakh would have mercy on them, and forget what it was that they had done. But...if these 'refugees' decided that the Drakh's wise *suggestion* should not be taken literally? Well, it would then be obvious what was needed...that a lesson would need to be given, to ensure that the remainder of the refugees would willngly step into line. The Drakh had decided to be *explicit* as to how this would be brought about...their other servants had found, and reactivated the planetkiller for them...eventually, there would have to be a test, after all... "So..." the Eldest stated, his face grim. "Our choices are clear-cut; either we return to the Path, or we, and our kind, cease to exist as a race. I have decided, after consulting with you, that we shall...accede to the Drakh demands...if we wish to survive, we have *no* other choice." The Eldest knew, of course, tha there was one among them, Moreil by name, who would not accept this decision...could not, and had argued this point since the Drakh's arrival at their new home...and now, Moreil stood, to make his point FINAL. "This is...*intolerable*, Most High! The Drakh, the race we once worked with, were closer to the Masters then the rest of us...and were the first to make the Great Pact. But they are not the Masters!...and this demand of theirs...it cannot be borne!" "We *must* bear it, Moreil!" the Eldest sternly replied. "The Drakh, our former brothers in the Great Pact, have never been known to bluff. If we refuse to accept their demands, they WILL destroy us!" "Then LET them destroy us!" Moreil shouted, his face now fierce with anger. "They are pretenders to the throne of chaos our Masters left behind them...they do not deserve our servitude!" The Eldest shook his head, sadly. "The decision is made, Moreil...it cannot be undone; but you will have to understand, we cannot have you among us, disrupting what is. You will leave us, Moreil...NOW. From this time forward, you shall be shunned by the rest of the Zha'shailyl; this is something that you have brought upon yourself by the choices you have made. We are sorry...*I* am sorry, Moreil. But as things stand, there was nothing else we can do for you." "So *be* it." Moreil snarled, as he strode out of the chamber. "I fear that we will not speak to one another again this side of the Veil...Eldest. By the Darkness, it is sworn." And with that dire pronouncement, Moreil left them to their thoughts...and their despair. "It had to be done, Eldest!" another of the Elders stated, a moment later. There was nothing else we could do! The Race MUST be preserved." "Yes..." the Eldest muttered...but then, is was as if the shadow of death passed across the table, and the Eldest looked up, to meet the unflinching gaze of the Drakh emissary who had come upon them, before. "*You have...decided. Wisely, I hope?*" "We have." The Eldest replied, knowing, in his heart, that what he did was for the best. It *had* to be for the best. "You may tell your Masters that, save for one who is now lost to us, forever... We are theirs to command." * * * White Star Four... All alone in her quarters, Julia stared intently into the candle, and thought about what had happened over the last half year. Back on Tuzanor, Sheynell was well along her path to becoming a Ranger, not that this was at all a surprise to anyone involved with the matter. Her training as a member of the Psi Corps had already given her a disciplined mind; this, combined with her *need* to follow in Brianna Tolmanes' footsteps, had made the rest *far* easier. She smiled wryly, then; the most difficult thing, in fact, for Sheynell to accept had been the necessity to unlearn some of what she had previously learned. But Sech Turval, Jennifer and others would ensure that this would come to pass...she *knew* that they would. And because this was so, two months previously, she had returned to her duties beneath the Sha'vei, her tasks in Tuzanor, for the moment, complete. Although, quite certainly, that Brakiri Ranger, Klairika Alidiae, would be someone she would find a reason to talk to again, as soon as possible. Klairika had *such* a fascinating personality; what little time they had spent together let her believe that there was even a possibility they might become friends, eventually... Suddenly, she yawned; it seemed clear that she had been up for far too long, already. With a deep sigh, Julia slowly laid down on her bed, which was inclined, as was proper, in the Minbari fashion. She smiled, at that thought; it had taken her far longer then it should have, for her to accept *that* ritual, but she had, in the end, understood the reasoning behind it. The room shimmered around her, and she blinked, and rubbed her eyes; in Valen's Name, she hadn't thought she was this tired! "The'kash shau'ray..." she whispered, and within a moment, the White Star's computer had complied with her request, as the lights in her quarters faded to low, leaving the candle to dominate the room with its slow, pulsating...rhythym... She blinked... ...And rose to her feet in astonishment. If *this* was a dream, it was absolutely the clearest dream she had ever experienced! All around her, the darkness was paramount...there was evidence of great trees all around...while overhead, two moons lit the sky, together with the uncounted fires of the night that filled the skies over this impossible place... "Not a dream..." a voice pronounced, and she whirled, to see a fire, and around it, a great ring of dark stones...and the figure, robed all in black, who had spoken to her. "Not...entirely; it's been a very long time since I've cast an incantation quite like that one, but I've noticed, over the time I've been watching you, that you seem to have an *obsession* with candles, of all kinds, and shapes...it seemed to be the easiest way to summon you here." "What?...who are you? And why..." "Are you here?" the robed figure replied, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Now that is the question, isn't it? And as to who, and what *I* am, well, that is something I will have to tell you eventually; it may as well be now, Ranger...although you may already be far more then that...as you will soon learn. I am named Galen!...and my order, as you well understand, from the tales your former mistress has woven for you, over the years, was most responsible for starting her and her husband, the man you think as Rimstalker, on their travels..." Of *course*. "You're a Technomage!" Galen nodded. "Astute...you've *always* been astute, though, haven't you? And as your wisdom has grown, through the Fire, through the Storm, that quality has grown. You are correct...but come! I did not bring you here to discuss matters such as these; there are greater things for us to worry about...and darker. I must tell you, even if you do not wish to hear it, that your life is about to change, and quite possibly, for the worse..." "Attend!..." Galen commanded, his gaze now intent. "There are things my Order knows that many others do not. We have walked between the stars for longer then I know, or *you* can understand, and we know many things. And one of the things we know is this: eons ago, as the great Shadow Wars began to wreak their havoc upon this galaxy, there existed a race named the Ch'akra..." "Then they were..." "First Ones...yes." Galen's mouth twisted ironically. "Before they transcended, and passed beyond the Rim, they endured a period in which they gained the dubious ability to see things which *might* yet be. The Ch'akra did not consider this a gift, but a burden, instead...but they were diligent about the matter, and wrote down all they could see, and some of what they saw was good. They saw, for instance, that there might come a time, eventually, when the *One* would stride forth, and end the Shadow Wars...forever. As you know, Julia Tikopai, this time has now passed us by. And if we are to believe the Ch'akra, this event has set other events in motion...great and *terrible* events, some of which we must work to prevent. For their prophets said the following: that a Great Sacrifice might be necessary, if all were to be saved. And that the Sacrifice would be guided by a child who is many things...and none, at the same time." "Now *wait* a minute!... you can't mean...you can't be trying to say..." "I am...and I do." Galen snapped. "Do not interrupt! As I was saying...a child who is many things, and none. A Watcher. A Warrior. A Seeker of truths. The one who is *Promised*, beneath the Stars and within the Flame of the Dark!...to save all, through the Sacrifice she will make. I believe that you are this child...a Promise of the future yet to be...or, if things go badly, perhaps, instead, a damnation to us all. Like so many others in this time, you may be the pin on which destinies turn...and only *you* will know which way is the right one, when the time comes." "In Valen's Name..." she whispered, half in shock, half in horror. "And I'm supposed to believe your claim that a race now passed...beyond...saw *this*? Was able to predict my birth, and my fate, from what, a million years in the past?" "*You* will have to decide the answer to that question, yourself..." Galen replied matter-of-factly. "I am only the Messenger. Although, I believe, from time to time, if you *do* make the right choices, there may be more...Messages that I can relay to you." Galen thought about the matter for a moment, and then said one last thing: "Though this aid will come only in a place, and time, of my own choosing. For now, I can tell you no more; the time for this meeting has come to an END..." "Wait!..." "*Sleep*." Galen commanded, his gaze bright, and focussed. Julia slept. * * * For all of thirty seconds, or so...and then she arose into consciousness, her scream loud enough to wake the dead, themselves. There was a moment of confusion in the passageway outside, and then Larieken burst through the door, his expression one of alarm. "Julia! Are you...well?" "I..." She paused, then...what exactly, could she say about what had just happened? "A nightmare, Larieken...I think...I *hope*, it was just a nightmare." The Minbari paused for a moment, looked at her closely, and then nodded, if a bit irritably. "I *see*. Perhaps, then, you can, in the future, refrain from screaming in the middle of the night? Then, I will not have to do this again..." She laughed, and even if the laugh was a little bit forced, it was a genuine one. "Heard and understood, friend...now, go back to your own rest, Larieken; I'll be fine...really!" "It shall...be as you say, Julia." Larieken bowed to her, then, a bow she half-returned, and then he was gone, leaving her alone with her memories of what had happened in the Dream...and her fears. Because, if what if what that impossible Technomage, Galen, had told her *was* true...there would be more nightmares coming into her sleep, soon enough. * * * Personal Log of Anla'shok Larieken... Several standard months has now passed since what I must consider to be a determining moment in the career of the Ranger I have sworn to protect even unto death. Something is worrying Julia, and I do not know what that something is...though the longer this goes on, the more I wonder what it is all about, since everytime I have asked, recently, she shuts herself behind a shell, and will say no more. It seems *clear*, however, that she is more worried about the future then she was...but while this may be true, she now approaches her duties as Anla'shok with even greater zeal then before the night I awoke, to hear her screams. It is a curiousity. It is a question that must be answered. And eventually, I will find the answer to that question. By Valen, I swear this to be true. * * * Mid June, 2266...Primary Ranger Training Facility, Tuzanor, Minbar. The heat of the morning was beginning to make itself felt, now, but Sheynell ignored that heat. She knew that everyone who had helped her to reach this goal were watching the Ceremony unfold...Julia, and her comrades Larieken and Klairika Alidiae; she *suspected* that Veyshahk was also out there, somewhere, watching as well. The heat was unimporant...for the vows she was making were even more important then the vows she had once held, in service to the Corps... And all too distantly, she heard herself say the final sentence..."We live for the One...we die for the One." And as hundreds of Rangers before her had wondered, over the last few years, exactly who *was* this 'One'? An interesting question, a question that no Minbari she knew in this place would give her an answer for. She rose to her feet, then, and moved to join the circle of Rangers around Julia, now that the final Ceremony was complete. "Anla'shok Tikopai; what an astonishing coincidence it is to find you here, this day..." Julia smiled a calculating smile, in response. "Anla'shok Keynes!...as we have learned, there are never coincidences...the Universe knew what it was doing, when we first met on Babylon 5...and this, of course, would be the *end* result of that meeting." "That would be, I assume, a Minbari belief..." "In part..." Larieken interjected, "You are correct. Although, I am afraid, Sheynell, that it goes on from there...for some time. Perhaps, when next we meet, I will have time to explain it all to you." "But that time, as we all understand..." Klairika cautioned from behind, a smile on her face, "Is not now, Larieken! Our duties within the Fleet call us onwards, and there is no time to waste on, shall we say, *idle* discussion." "You just had to remind me about that part, didn't you?" "You have nothing to fear, Sheynell. Val'na Montoya is respectful, for a human...you will do well, serving beneath him. And, more importantly, this service will allow you an opportunity to practice the tactical skills you learned in the Psi Corps in a different, and also a *better* environment." "Well said, Larieken!...I couldn't have said it better, myself." "So...when you believe we'll next see one another?" she asked. "Could be a while, huh?" "Indeed..." Julia muttered. "As long as The Telepath War continues, back home, the Sha'vei will probably keep us on full alert. And afterwards, who knows what may happen, next?" Before they left one another's company, however, Sheynell could feel, at the top of Julia's mind, a pool of dark worry and uncertainty. She seemed to know *something*...something she was hiding, deep inside, where only a deep scan could pull it out...but Sheynell was going to be polite about this, for the time being. When her new friend was ready to tell her, was ready to tell them all what she knew, or suspected...then they would know. And not a moment before. * * * Elsewhere... "You may be interested to hear of this." "Ah...this is about Dasouri, is it?" "Of course it is! During the course of his training, we were able to determine that Dasouri was, to our great surprise, a star pilot of notable character and disposition. As such, the Council has decreed that he shall be trained as a flight control officer..." "For a White Star?" "Exactly." came the droll reply. "Astonishing...I would not have believed him capable of such a feat..." "Dasouri has surprised us already, my friend; I do not doubt that there may be more shocking discoveries ahead of us with that Drazi, if only we know how to look, and what to look *for*..." "Ah well, in any case, from what we now know of him, there is little doubt he will do well in his coming duties." "Very true...now come! The day is wearing on, and there is still *much* for us to do, before the shadows come upon this place." A regretful nod. "Such are the trials of life." * * * And Elsewhen...in passing... "High Councillor." "Mr. President." "And how is the matter we've decided to set in motion progressing?" "Finer then I might have believed, the last time we discussed this matter. Give me nine more months, and I think we'll be ready to finally move on this..." * * * Unfortunately, the Drakh decided not to give us that much time, and all things considered, I *should* have worried more then I did...tried to find out the answers to the questions, and revelations, that Galen had posed, that fateful night. But duty called, and the months flew by...months in which we moved on, hoping that the worst was now over... Months in which Sheynell allowed herself to relax into her new tasks, now that the Telepath Crisis was over...the Psi Corps, her dark nemesis, dissolved. Months in which the rest of us allowed ourself to hope that things might go on as they were, for just a little while longer... We should have known better, of course. And it was only chance that allowed the completion of the EXCALIBUR and the VICTORY, just in time to meet the enemy's first, fateful move. And with that move, the future that Galen had predicted, a prophecy that had waited a million years for my birth, began to come to pass... * * * From: dgolding@connect.ab.ca Subject: STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS, Part VI, Act I of II Date: Sun, 24 Jan 1999 17:49:04 STAR AND CIRCLE: "AS DARKNESS FALLS" PART VI, Act I of II "To dream the dream was to learn of my fate. And to walk amongst the ashes was to understand the nature of the long road we were about to walk upon..." * * * Approximately twenty hours before the Drakh attack on Earth. White Star 4, enroute to the Earth-Minbari Frontier. "I feel that I *must* inform you..." Larieken commented, as Julia turned and looked at him irritably, "That you *still* don't look comfortable, sitting in that chair! Has it, perhaps, insulted you somehow? Or, are you merely still dealing with what has ailed you from the start of your service amidst the Anla'shok?" "I think you *know* the answer to that question, Larieken. But I cannot change what I feel about this...situation." Larieken shrugged. "It is inevitable, from time to time, that the Sha'vei of the White Star Fleet will be recalled to Minbar, to consult with the members of the High Council. But it would not do, in this day and age, to leave the flagship of the Fleet *unused* for the period our commander will be on Minbar, now would it? And since *that* is so..." Julia glared at her friend and guardian for a few seconds more, and then allowed the glare to soften. "I suppose you're right, Larieken; even though I don't want to admit it, it does make sense for us to fulfill our duties within the Fleet, even when the Sha'vei *isn't* with us. And because of a whole lot of conspirators, it seems that I've managed to pick up a whole lifetime's experience in the last five years...so I'm probably fighting against a flood of inevitablities, here." "Forged by Fire and by Storm, and called upon to act as you must." Larieken mused. "Still, there is a precedence; during your time of training beneath Sech Westcastle, you told your mother that if you had your way, there would eventually come a time when you and she would meet, between the stars, as equals...captains of your respective ships." Julia smiled, finally...every once in a while, a moment like this would come, and give her cause to remember that her mother's ship was out here in the darkness somewhere, as well...and eventually, such a meeting *must* occur. "Yes. I suppose I did at that, didn't I?" "And now th.." It was then, quite naturally, that a deep resounding chime warned the two Rangers that something was amiss. "There is a priority signal coming in from Minbar..." Larieken reported, and then the Minbari's expression sharpened. "It is from High Councillor Westcastle, Julia!...and the matter appears *urgent*." "I knew that this was too good to last..." she muttered, and rose to her feet as the image of her friend, the High Councillor, rippled into being, and immediately realized that things were not as they usually were...his expression was *terrible* to behold. "High Councillor!...whatever is the matter?*." "Julia...we have a problem, a very *large* problem, as I've just learned. And because of the nature of what I am about to tell you, I, and Sha'vei Tashann, have decided that there is not sufficient time for you to return to Minbar to pick him up." What? "I don't understand, sir! What's going on?" "Then LEARN...Anla'shok Tikopai." She stiffened...that William had become formal meant much...and none of it was good. "Less then thirty minutes ago, a message arrived on Minbar from President Sheridan; he, and others he has drawn to his side, are currently aboard the newly commissioned Interstellar Alliance Destroyer EXCALIBUR. Together with her sister ship, the VICTORY, the EXCALIBUR is currently enroute to Earth...minutes ahead of a Drakh attack fleet of considerable size." "In Valen's Name..." Larieken muttered beside her, his expression disturbed. "It was bound to happen eventually..." "And there is worse news...*far* worse. The President and his companions have learned that the Drakh have a Shadow planetkiller with them...and it would appear that their first target is going to be our homeworld." "NO..." she whispered, the whisper a whisper of horror. *Now*, she understood the desperation visible on William's face...a planetkiller, and the Drakh had activated it. "Sir!...how much time remains until the President and his squadron reach the Earth?" "Not nearly enough. But all the same, our Entil'zha has promised him that every ship and command that can come to Earth's defence *will* do so. And that, Anla'shok Tikopai, is where you and your crew enter into the equation." So *that* was it. "And WE are nearer to Earth then any other member of the Fleet, save for the group presently *in* Sol system.." A grim nod. "In the name of our Entil'zha, and the One, I command you to join your White Star with the Alliance units gathering to protect Earth from the Drakh advance." "I understand, sir. We are Rangers...this is the reason we were created, to fight the Darkness wherever it can be found. We will protect Earth from their fleet and their weapon of terror, sir...I swear it, in Valen's Name, and yours." "Good...I can expect nothing else of you, this time." And then, the High Councillor smiled, amazingly enough. "There is one other matter for us to discuss before you leave for Earth. Since the Sha'vei will not be able to join you, there is something we must...correct; and it is this. By the power invested in me by the High Council of the Anla'shok, I raise you to the Anla'shok Val'na for the duration of this crisis, Julia. And if you do well, and Earth is saved...then this may become *permanant*." "I..." On top of what had come before, *this* shocked her to the bone. She had expected it would happen eventually...but so soon? "You honour me, sir...I don't deserve this, not yet!" "Honour is earned, not given, Val'na Tikopai." The High Councillor sharply replied. "And sometimes, duty summons us to positions beyond our years. I learned this the hard way...now *you* must do the same." She bowed, then; it was quite apparent that she would not win this argument. "I understand." Another brief smile came to William Westcastle's face, and then it was gone, as if blown away. "Then go! There is no more *time*." The signal abruptly ended, allowing Julia a moment more to consider what had just happened. Once again, it seemed she was facing a responsibility far beyond her years...but this was no longer a surprise; there was, instead, almost a grim *inevitability* about it all... "Anla'shok Larieken..." "Val'na Tikopai..." Larieken slowly replied, as if trying out the title to see how it fit..."Command us." "You will set course for Earth..." she replied, settling herself back into the chair that destiny seemed hell-bent on throwing at her. "BEST possible speed." * * * Interstellar Alliance Destroyer EXCALIBUR; enroute to Earth. Fourteen hours before the Drakh attack. All alone with his thoughts, John Sheridan sat in the EXCALIBUR's conference room, and wondered what he could possibly do to make this situation any better then it was. He *knew* that Delenn would pull together as many Alliance ships as she could find, and he *hoped* that Earthgov would believe that he was telling the truth, as well...that Elizabeth would be able to convince them. Because if they didn't... And then, he remembered something he hadn't done, yet "Communications, this is the President; I need another connection to Babylon 5." "Yes, sir; and the receipient?" "Director of Covert Intelligence Theresa Halloran." "Stand by." Sheridan waited for the moment that it took for the connection to be established, and then, the Director's face sprang onto the screen, her expression cold and resigned. "Mr. President; I've been expecting your call." "I'll be brief, then, Ms. Halloran, and get straight to the point. In only a few more hours, as you may have heard, a sizable Drakh fleet, together with a Shadow planetkiller, will be jumping into Earthspace. Is there *any* chance the SHARD OF NIGHT can reach Earth before that happens?" Director Halloran paused for a moment, and then said something Sheridan had not wanted to hear. "I know you don't want to hear this, Mr. President, but we're looking at one Hell of a bad case of timing at the moment. The SHARD's just about as far away from Earth as it's possible to be, and *still* be in Alliance territory. Even at maximum burn, Captain Rahkeel and his crew won't be able to get to Earth until the battle's over...one way, or the other." Sheridan gritted his teeth, and nodded. "That's what I was afraid of. Fair enough, we can't work miracles, with both time *and* distance against us. Guess we're going to have to take care of this one on our own, then..." "Wait...Mr. President!..." "EXCALIBUR out." * * * Ten minutes later...the bridge of the SHARD OF NIGHT. "So..." Captain Rahkeel mused, as the Director Halloran's image floated in the air in front of him, "The Drakh have finally moved; it was to be expected, eventually..." "Eventually has become NOW, Captain." "So be it...I understand, Director, all too *well*, what must be done." Rahkeel sharply replied. "Know that we are breaking off from our present intelligence-gathering mission," at which point, Drakan, his first officer, began issuing *that* very order, "And setting course for Earth. But to continue; we both know and understand, Director, that this ship and her crew will *not* reach the homeworld of the Humans in time to meet the Drakh advance...but we *will* be there, eventually...and if the Drakh have gained the upper hand in their battle with the defence fleet, and Earth has been destroyed, the Drakh will be made to pay for their crimes with their own destruction, to the last generation... So do I swear." * * * Tuzanor. His mind working over the tasks ahead, Veyshahk finished putting together his travel pack, muttering under his breath. It was bound to happen again, sooner or later, and as per usual, sooner was the alternative that had happened. "I have told them, have I not..." he muttered to himself, "But do they listen to me? Never!" Since the beginning, the Sech'veht had chosen to train new recruits in the mountains north of the city...and inevitably enough, someone would become careless, and injuries would result. At least no one had been *killed*, yet, that he knew of... "Veyshahk!" He looked up irritably, and sighed. Not again. "Have you heard? There is..." "Forash, you will have to forgive me, but I do not have time for your...excitations, at the moment. There has been a training accident in the mountains, and since this is so..." "No!" Forash exclaimed angrily, halting the surprised doctor in mid-word. "This time, I will *not* listen to one of your lectures, Veyshahk. The Sech'veht have commanded that all of us should learn what is occurring on the outside; it is important, it is terrible, and if the instigators succeed in their aims, the world of the Humans will CEASE to be." "Cease to be?" he replied, his incomprehension at these words paramount. "What is this you say, Forash? We are not in the time of the Shadow War any longer!" "Nevertheless..." the other Ranger muttered darkly, "The legacy of that time has now reached out to the present. The news is this, Veyshahk; the Drakh, one-time allies of the Shadows, have amassed a fleet to attack Earth; and they have, somehow, resurrected a *planetkiller* that their Masters left behind." For a moment, even breath stopped; this was *terrible* news; Veyshahk had joined the Rangers in time to experience the end of the Shadow War...he knew, all too well, what was at stake, here. "I will assume, Forash, that some of our kind move to stand against this dark onslaught?" "Yes...and in addition, a number of Alliance and Human vessels are close enough to reach Earth before the Drakh. Finally, I have learned that the President and his new destroyers will also be there, to hold the line against the Drakh and their dark purpose." So. Veyshahk nodded briskly. "If anyone can stop their advance, Forash, it is Sheridan." "I pray that you are right, Veyshahk..." Forash replied, his face somber. "Because if you are *not*..." Even he could finish that sentence. If Sheridan failed, the Drakh would destroy Earth, and all her peoples. And *War* would come again. * * * The bridge of White Star 27; Earth orbit... Five minutes before the arrival of the EXCALIBUR and the VICTORY. Her thoughts troubled, Sheynell looked out upon the world that had once been hers; a world she had exiled herself from, by design and by principle. And now, that world, a world she cared for, even so, faced a threat it had faced several times before, and this time around, there would be no surrender or last-minute miracles to halt the dark tide. And as for the defence fleet, it seemed likely that the score of Earthforce destroyers all around them would only be able to attack the Drakh's conventional fleet units...even the White Stars might do no better. Sheynell feared that there was only two ships in known space that would be able to take on the planetkiller, and they had not yet arrived; were, in fact, only minutes ahead of the Drakh fleet, itself... And then, her board chimed, and Sheynell blinked, and came back to the here and now. While she had taken her vows, and trained as a Ranger should, every once in a while, her mind would wander...it was a bad habit, and *needed* to be broken. "Anla'shok Keynes..." Captain Montoya began. "What is..." "Sir. One jump out, a single vessel..it's a White Star, sir, they're hailing us." "Do you *have* to keep doing that?" Captain Montoya replied, a hint of annoyance now in his voice. Oops. "Sorry, sir...the question you were about to ask was right at the top of your mind...I couldn't help it!" And then, seeing his expression darken, she straightened to attention. "I won't do it again, sir." Montoya snorted, and then turned back towards the matter at hand. "Well now, who could this be? I didn't think there were any more of the Fleet this close to Earth. Accept hail, and display." At that, the viewscreen rippled down, and Sheynell could not help but jump, so surprising was the revelation. Julia was commanding that ship!...and if *that* was the White Star she thought it was, then where was Julia's commander? "Val'na Montoya...my regards to you and your crew. We stand ready to join your squadron, in Earth's defence." Montoya's eyes narrowed. "With all due respect, Anla'shok Tikopai, you are not our Sha'vei, and yet, you act as he would. You will, I assume, explain to me the reasoning behind this?" "Of course. Firstly, less then a half day ago, I was called upon to join my command to the fleet defending Earth by High Councillor Westcastle. Secondly, we were near enough to reach this place before the Drakh...we are Rangers, this is *our* highest duty; and this is a battle that we *must* win, if our homeworld is to survive." And then, Julia's gaze sharpened, and Sheynell smiled. Here it came..."And finally, the High Council has seen fit to raise me to command rank, for the duration of this crisis. And possibly *longer*, if any of us survive what is to come, that is." After a moment, Montoya laughed. "Interesting. And how much higher will your star rise, young Tikopai? One is given cause to think you are blessed, somehow, to have risen so far, so fast." "Or damned." was the reply of White Star 4's present mistress...and then, Sheynell saw Larieken lean over and murmur in his captain's ear, and Julia's expression became hawk-like. "The time for talk has ended, Val'na Montoya...it seems we're about to have another arrival; and I can *guess* who this is going to be, without even trying. And if they're here, then the Drakh are RIGHT behind them...White Star 4 *out*." "Is it them?" Montoya asked, after a moment. "Yes, sir." She winced, then, as the background anxiety on the bridge climbed by a rather healthy margin. This was going to be the first major engagement of her Ranger career...she had *no* doubt whatsoever that before the end of it, the stray mental leakage was going to give her one Hell of a headache..."The EXCALIBUR and the VICTORY are maneuvering to join our forces, sir." "And the Drakh?" "Not yet, sir, but..." she stopped, unable to believe what she was seeing...but the instruments could not be argued with; an *immense* chunk of space out near the Moon had just been torn asunder... "*Now*, sir." * * * The SHARD OF NIGHT...enroute to Earth. "He is mad!" Varsak exclaimed, while just out of range of that bellow, Nicholas winced. Ever since Captain Rahkeel had changed course and decided to push the SHARD's speed out to the edge of the envelope in a bid to reach Earth if not *before* the Drakh, then before the battle was concluded, the Chief Engineer's mood had gone from the usual (overly protective) to bad (overly furious). Varsak seemed to think that no one, not even the Captain, had the right to push *his* ship to the limit...Nicholas shook his head once more; someone had to stop Varsak before he did something that *everyone* on board would regret. "Mad, I tell you! He *cannot* push her this much, this fast...I will not have it, it must be stopp.." Okay, to Hell with this nonsense. Nicholas strode over, and got right in Varsak's face; if the rest of the department wouldn't tell him this, well, *he* would; he was a human, after all...and even though his species was in the minority aboard the SHARD, he wasn't about to let *that* stop him..."VARSAK! I am going to come straight out and say this, whether you want to hear it, or not. While I understand that you don't want the Captain to put even a SCRATCH on this ship, sooner or later, the time for a firefight is going to come, and well, it sure looks to me like this might qualify as that..." "Your opinion does NOT count, Dawson!" Varsak roared, his fury unabated. "I designed this ship, and as her creator, I will not have this! It cannot be borne...I will not allow it!" Nicholas nodded, as Varsak turned away...okay, if that was way he wanted it, fair enough, that was the way he was going to *get* it... "Lesaki." he snapped out. "Yes, sir." "As Assistant Engineer of this vessel, I am relieving Chief Engineer Varsak of his duties for the duration of the present crisis. You *will* take him to his quarters, until this...period of madness has passed." Varsak turned back towards him, then, his expression now mocking. "They will not listen to you, Dawson!...you are a human, after all, not a Minbari. They will not..." "Sir." Varsak paused in mid-tirade, to realize that Lesaki and another member of the engineering crew had placed firm hands on his shoulders. "It with *regret* that I must accede to Assistant Engineer Dawson's demands." "What? You *cannot*. You WILL not!..." "We are." Lesaki bowed briefly in Nicholas's direction, and he smiled...before letting out a big sigh of relief. Damn, but that had been close... "Engineering to Bridge." "This is the Bridge." Captain Rahkeel replied, after a moment. "Mr. Dawson, you wish to report something?" "Yes, sir. It is with regret that I must inform you that we had to...relieve the Chief Engineer of his duties for the time being." "I *see*." Rahkeel sighed. "I do not blame you for your choice, Dawson...the inevitability of this moment does not escape my attention. I fear that Varsak will have to be transferred, shall we say, ELSEWHERE once this crisis is concluded. The blindness of the creator cannot be excused, and partly because this is so, but also for a number of other reasons, I choose *you* as Chief Engineer, in his place." Well, I'll be damned, Nicholas thought. "Thank you, sir." "Do not assume that this will become permanant, however..." Rahkeel cautioned. "Until Earth is saved, nothing, as you humans say, is set in stone." "I hear you loud and clear, sir." "Good. Then if there is nothing else, Mr. Dawson, be about your duties..." Nicholas nodded, as the image faded away. What was done was done. "Sir." He turned, expression now grave. "Lesaki." "It is done, sir. We are yours to command, for the time being." He nodded. "Sure seems like it. Okay, we know what needs to be done, gentlemen...and that would be whatever the Captain wants of us. If he wants speed, well, we'll give him speed. If he needs to fight, then weapons, he shall have, and all the power he needs. Clear?" "Very." He smiled, then, and strode over to look upon the massive generators that kept this ship howling, as it did, towards Earth...towards these Drakh things, and their nightmarish weapons...but then, the smile faded, and became a worried frown. He understood the distance to Earth, all too well, and even at this speed, they weren't going to make it in time. And the Drakh? THEY had that planet-killer thing...it had to be stopped...it had to! His parents, his two sisters...everyone he knew, and billions more besides, were under the gun, and the man who was about to lead Earth's defence was a man a previous government had declared a traitor, and more besides... "Sheridan..." he muttered, "Or Mister President, if you so prefer that title. You've *got* to stop that thing, I'm *not* going to get back in time, to help Mom and Dad...or Gwen and Vic. Damn it..." he stopped for a moment, and fought away the fear. Word was that Sheridan was going to draw the line against the Drakh with those new-fangled destroyers of his...and also that a lot of Earth and Alliance ships has climbed on board for the battle, as well. But would it be enough? * * * White Star 106; enroute to Earthspace. Dasouri sighed deeply, as he went about his duties. The humans and Minbari on his ship, and most especially the Captain, were not in a very good mood at the moment, and it was easy to understand why. It wasn't his world, of course, but he knew what evil was...and the Drakh certainly qualified as THAT. "Is this as *fast* as we can go?" his Captain exclaimed behind him. "Cannot go any faster, Captain." he testily replied. "Already at limit of endurance, going any faster would damage ship, then we would not reach Earth at all, will have failed in mission." "He's right, you know..." the White Star's first officer commented. "If we push her any harder, the engines will be damaged." "Of course he's right..." the Captain snapped. "He's almost ALWAYS right; that's the annoying part, as well you know." Dasouri closed his eyes for a moment, and sighed. He wished that a time would come when being right would not equal being *shouted* at. But he had chosen his path...and the decision made, could now now be *un*made. "The battle's already begun, hasn't it?" the first officer inquired. "Yes...it has." * * * From: dgolding@connect.ab.ca Subject: STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS, Part VI, Act II of II Date: Sun, 24 Jan 1999 18:09:58 STAR AND CIRCLE: "AS DARKNESS FALLS" PART VI, Act II of II * * * "To dance the dance of fire was also to live the memory of what was... The Memory of War." * * * White Star 98. Ten minutes after full engagement. Klairika closed her eyes briefly for a moment, as her White Star passed neatly between two immense Earthforce destroyers, their weapons glowing with the heat of constant fire; the constant thunder of weapons fire from her own command was equally as fierce. Lines of fire crisscrossed the heavens, a sign she had not seen before...not this seriously, this fiercely. There was a beauty to it, but also a horror... So many battles and so many wars had raged across the known galaxy in the last twenty cycles. Worlds had been scorched, and torn asunder, and millions upon millions of innocents had died. And now, war had come again...but this was a battle they *had* to win, or Earth would be destroyed... Now, she understood why her father had seemed so sad, during the few leaves he had taken, during her youth...before his death, at the hands of the Shadows. From time to time, he had been forced to take his cruiser into combat...and he had seen members of his own crew die, die because of orders he had given. And sometimes, he had told her, it was no easier to kill those who sought to kill him. Sometimes. But not now. On every side, death surrounded her; Drakh ships spinning across the sky to destruction, burnt to shreds by the fires of their own undoing. But those who fought on *her* side were taking just as many casualties...as she watched, the bow of one of the Human destroyers splintered, and the capital ship shuddered, and began to list out of the fleet's advancing wedge. Good men and women of Earth were dying on that ship, even now...and it was all in aid of the two arrow-like destroyers at the heart of the Fleet. Even now, they were drawing near to the edge of the deathcloud...and the time was coming for the President and his ships to do the impossible...the improbable. But to give the EXCALIBUR and the VICTORY their chance, the rest of the Fleet had to do their job as well as they were able. And even as another cluster of Drakh ships approached, spitting deadly blue fire, she realized that another White Star had fallen in at their side...and smiled, knowing exactly who commanded that ship, and why. And side by side, they fought with the rest to return most of the Drakh squadron to the night that had given them birth. And then, there was a sudden lull, and Klairika realized that they had reached the edge of the deathcloud... and the two ISA destroyers moved inwards, moved to dance what might be their own dance with destiny. One of the two, the EXCALIBUR, she thought, fired its forward batteries, the beams lancing out at maximum dispersion into the deathcloud. If there were something inside that thing, then maybe the President could kill it...somehow. Maybe he knew something the rest of them didn't... She only understood that the Drakh had to be stopped...that they *had* to keep on fighting until the Drakh were either all gone, or driven away. Because if the the deathcloud could be destroyed, the rest might become easy; hopefully there would be *more* then enough capital ships in the fleet to take on the Drakh that would be left. Hopefully. And these thoughts kept her and her crew alive to fight the good fight, until several astonishing and tragic things happened... * * * Rahkeel didn't realize how wound up he had become about the matter of the Drakh attack on Earth until after it was over. To him, not reaching Earth in time was a failure of unescapable magnitude, but *everything* had been against them, this day. And most certainly, they had been cursed by the inescapable nature of space-time; they had not even been *close* to entering Earth system by the time the call from the President came, the call that told him the battle was over. "Captain Rahkeel, this is President Sheridan." "Mr. President..." "I am going to come straight to the point, Captain. You are to cease your approach to Earth and set your course for Minbar, no questions asked. We have a lot of difficult decisions to make because of what has just happened, and this is only one of the first." "Mr. President!" Rahkeel began again, rising to his feet. "I must assume, since we are having this conversation, that you and ther rest were successful in preventing the Drakh from destroying the Earth?" "That is correct, Captain..." The President stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Unfortunately, to defeat and destroy the deathcloud, the VICTORY, and all aboard her, were forced to give up their lives...but yes, we prevented them from destroying the Earth...we killed their deathcloud, and destroyed their fleet." "Then we won." Rahkeel declared, a smile coming to his face. "No, Captain...we did not." "Mr. President?" It was then that President Sheridan explained to him why there had been *no* winners in the battle for Earth. And after the conversation concluded, Rahkeel gave the order to change course, and then left the bridge in silence, his bridge crew equally silent and numb around him. Admittedly, there were some of them, in the past, who had thought of the Humans as the Enemy...but since then, the Humans had done a great deal of good; for them to come to this end would be a terrible thing. A terrible thing, indeed. * * * "We must speak, Dawson..." Varsak began, as he cornered his former assistant in the Engineering ready room. "About a great many things." "I'm listening..." Nicholas ground out, after a moment. "Start speaking..." "To begin..." Varsak stated, his expression terrifyingly bitter. "I must ask if what you did, during our recent run to Earth, was done on purpose. Did you move, then and there, to take advantage of my weakness? Because if that was the case, all the rest of what I wish to say to you may be in doubt..." Nicholas thought about those words for a moment, and then replied, "No, Varsak...I didn't. What you did, you did all by yourself, by going nuts when we were placed in a period of crisis. A Chief Engineer is supposed to keep his ship working for his Captain...but when the need to protect the ship becomes stronger then the need to serve our Captain...that was when you forced me to draw the line. I'm sorry, Varsak...that's the just the way it is." Varsak's expression crashed from bitterness into regret, at that statement of fact. "So. In the end, it has come down to something I swore I would never allow; my blind spot has struck me down. It is bitter medicine to swallow, Nicholas Dawson, more bitter then you can know. And Captain Rahkeel will undoubtedly have his way in this matter; if I am transferred off of this command, it would appear that I chose my assistant wisely..." Nicholas frowned, and then realized what Varsak was driving at. "Oh, now WAIT a minute..." "Peace, Nicholas." Varsak continued, his expression now genial. "You knew when to act, when it was right to do so...when it was necessary. For that, I cannot blame you...but there is more." Varsak paused for a moment, and then continued. "As you inferred, there comes a time when the mission must come *before* the ship, and the crew, before the mission. I ignored both of these rules, when I sought to stop Rahkeel...if things had gone badly, in my rage, I might have killed us all. This is inexcusable, and as such..." "You wish me to follow in your footsteps." Varsak smiled thinly. "That would be...the *acceptable* alternative, yes. When I chose you to aid in the design and construction of this ship, I was taking a chance, Nicholas...and that decision was the correct one, or so it would seem. I will retire from this duty, as I have been...commanded, and you will carry on in my place...if that is what you wish. That *is*, what you wish, is it not? I cannot demand of you this thing, given what has happened to Earth, and those you know, down there. I must assume that your family was down there, when this...happened?" Nicholas nodded numbly. "My parents, my sisters, their husbands, and my niece and nephew...they're ALL down there, Varsak. They've *all* got this thing...this plague the Drakh sprayed into the Earth's atmosphere. They're all living on borrowed time, Varsak, and I don't know what to do! I don't know how I can help, by staying here...and I certainly can't go back to Earth; I'd get it, too." "Attend, then, to this piece of wisdom..." Varsak told him. "We have been recalled to Minbar, and I do not believe it is for an idle reason. Our time amidst the stars working for Director Halloran *may* be coming to an end; this plague that afflicts your homeworld is a problem that overruns all others. And I do not doubt that President Sheridan will shortly call upon this crew, and this ship, to help find a *cure* for the plague that ails your people. A struggle is starting, a struggle that will last until either a cure is found...or your people lie dead, in their billions. And given President Sheridan's past history, I do not believe that he will accept the latter alternative. Varsak bowed to him, then, a bow that he returned, if a little jarringly. "Good day to you, *Chief* Engineer Dawson...and good luck. Because if VI'DALAE AN'SHAKA, my creation, is sent where I think it will be sent, you will need all the luck you can find, and more, besides..." * * * White Star 4, enroute to Minbar. How had it happened, Julia asked herself, her thoughts dischordant and broken, as she sat there, in silence, on the bridge of the ship she had commanded through the battle just past. How could they have *allowed* this to happen? They had failed...somehow, they had *all* failed in their mission, their duty, and what had happened had been the result. In her memories, she saw the Earth, shimmering beneath a greasy black pall...a cloud of death, left by the Drakh in the ultimate act of spite...and now, *billions* of her kind had been poisoned by their final gift...their curse. She sat in silence, and beside her, Larieken did the same, his expression troubled. When they reached Minbar, she had no doubt that a great many things would be decided...that a great many difficult decisions would have to be made. Many of them, she suspected, would revolve around the surviving Alliance destroyer, the EXCALIBUR...for now, or so she had heard, the only one of her kind, for some time to come. But the EXCALIBUR was a great and noble ship, nevertheless...perhaps, if all went well, it would be an ideal center for the struggle ahead of them all. We went to space, she pondered, because we wanted to learn what was out here, between the stars, in the dark places we could not see. And in the end, that might be the only thing that will stop Earth from becoming the dead world the Drakh wish it to be. But at the same time, she could not help but think back to what Galen had told her, all those long months ago. That if all were to be saved, a Great Sacrifice would be necessary. And if the Technomage was right, what would she have to sacrifice, to save the countless people and creatures of Earth from their fate?" "And a Child will lead them..." she whispered to herself. But to where? And more importantly... How? * * * Coming early in the new week! From: dgolding@connect.ab.ca Subject: STAR AND CIRCLE: AS DARKNESS FALLS, Part VII, Act I Date: Fri, 29 Jan 1999 23:59:33 STAR AND CIRCLE: "AS DARKNESS FALLS" PART VII, ACT I of III Tuzanor; President Sheridan's office. Three days after the Drakh attack on Earth; just before midnight, Minbari Local Time. Outside the broad window of his office, the gloomy, rain-filled night seemed all too appropriate, John Sheridan mused, as he stood, all alone, the smell of the rain filling the night, the falling drops silouetted against the pale, glowing towers of Tuzanor. It was a dark and stormy night...as, for all intents and purposes, a dark and stormy night of the soul had come upon the people of Earth. For even though the Drakh had been driven away, their dreams of conquest unrealized, the task ahead of the crew that was, even now, pulling together on the EXCALIBUR would be a tremendously difficult undertaking. He *hoped* that he had made the right choice, in picking Matthew Gideon as her captain...time would tell, on that score. Time would tell, indeed... But there were other choices to be made for now; equally difficult, and equally necessary. While EXCALIBUR and her new crew were well capable of taking care of themselves, given the choice, he wasn't about to only rely on their skills...since the Drakh would no doubt begin to try taking out the destroyer once they learned of her mission; would keep on trying, until either they succeeded, or the EXCALIBUR and her crew, did. There was, however, a way to boost the chances of the later outcome; an option that would, as he realized all too well, send another crew, and another ship, into the darkness until the EXCALIBUR's mission was completed...however long that took. Sheridan prayed that it wouldn't take the full five years that Earth's people and creatures had left to them, on the *outside*. And even though he knew he would have to fight tooth and nail with some involved to make this happen, in his mind, it had *already* happened...the decision had already been made. And it wasn't as if there wasn't a precedence for this sort of thing...the concept went back to the days when Earth's great powers sailed the oceans of water instead of the vastness of space... Three centuries before, the 'big gun' ships that been the top of the line in that age, such as battleships and aircraft carriers, had *always* gone on their missions escorted by other, lesser cruisers and smaller ships. This 'escort group' had served to draw a line against the Enemy...and while battle tactics had certainly changed in the galactic-scale warfare of the present day, many things hadn't changed in the slightest. Although the matter of EXCALIBUR's escort was certainly trickier to plan then those of bygone days . On one hand, there were the myriad ships of the White Star Fleet to draw on...but he had promised the people of Earth that the Rangers and their Fleet would be out on the front lines of the search, and to hold any of them back from that task would be difficult. That, when it came down to it, only left *one* other option open to him...an option even now holding station at the Langrange point sixty degrees ahead of Minbar's outer moon... The SHARD OF NIGHT was something that almost no one involved, not the threatened billions of the Earth Alliance, not the Drakh, and *certainly* not the crew of the EXCALIBUR, knew anything about...and it had to stay that way, if this plan of his had any chance of working; the powerful little ISA battlecruiser could end up being his ace-in-the-hole...but only if the Drakh spies that Galen had warned him about didn't find out about her first. And if the secrecy could be maintained, the SHARD and her crew stood a good chance at fulfilling the role he had planned for them... ...as one of the only, if not *the* only ship in the Alliance that the Drakh wouldn't be able to see coming, *until* it would already be too late for them to do something about that advance. Admittedly, the SHARD was only one ship, and no matter how hard she fought, some of the Drakh would get through from time to time, to attack the EXCALIBUR. But that would be acceptable odds; the crew and weapons of the EXCALIBUR would stand a much better chance against a Drakh offensive fleet weakened in such a fashion... It was then that the main doors to his office opened, and Sheridan turned away from the view and his thoughts to see two out of the handful of people he trusted implicitly enter the room. The first, her long dark hair swept cleanly away beneath the tiara-like shape of her headbone... was his partner...the only one he now loved; Delenn. Tonight, she wore black, the jewel of her present calling vivid against the darkness...and again, he was reminded that she was Entil'zha to those he would shortly be sending into the Night on this impossible, improbable mission; she was their leader, and he knew that the responsibility of sending the Rangers into tasks that might possibly kill them weighed heavily on her. The second, steps behind and beside his Leader, was a human who had chosen to walk at his side throughout the battles that had raged during his final years in Earthforce, the time he had spent commanding Babylon 5. This man, his hair now streaked broadly with silver, his beard close behind, had served both he *and* Delenn loyally for the better part of a decade; and had, for the most part, been responsible for making of the White Star Fleet what it was, today. But the smile that had come so often to Councillor Westcastle's face over the past five years was missing, now. "In the darkness, with the rain..." his wife began, her eyes heavy with the knowledge of his many moods. "You may think the image appropriate, John, but in my opinion, it is a little overdone. The skies do not yet weep at the passing of Earth's people...there is still *hope*, I will not let you forget this..." "I *know*..." he replied, the weight of what had happened in the last week showing in his voice...but he didn't much care. "But for a while, I needed to be alone. The decisions I've had to make about the EXCALIBUR and her mission were difficult ones..and the decisions aren't finished with, yet." "We understand this, sir..." William interjected from the other side of the window, as he reached out his hand to touch the rain falling from Minbar's skies. "But the decision you have *yet* to make is one that the Entil'zha and I have decided should not...*cannot* be made alone...Mr. President. By my estimate, one hundred and twenty Anla'shok will be required for this task...would you speak to each and every one of those Rangers, and send them to their deaths, yourself?" "While some of the decisions may be made by you..." Delenn reminded him seriously, "This is something that only *I* can do." "I know..." Sheridan slowly replied, his voice rough with exhaustion. "But I *have* to talk to the command crew, Delenn!...and especially the Captain, whoever we end up choosing to do the job. And I'm *damned* if I know who that should be..." Beside him, William turned away from the gloom and the light beyond the window's edge, his expression all too bleak, and knowing. "Mr. President. Entil'zha...if you will please let me make a *suggestion*?" * * * A short time later; the Westcastle family quarters. Faces stony, William and his beloved wife and instructor sat across from one another, their table of black stone bare, save for his half-eaten dinner, now gone cold, and the single, tall candle that burned between them. For the first time in his memory, something had come between them...a something that affected billions of humans, across a hundred sectors. He had not wanted to tell her what he and the others had decided, less then a hour before...had wanted to put off this matter for as many hours as was possible. But *she*, of course, had seen it in his face the instant he walked past the threshold of their home. Had *known* that a terrible and momentous decision had been made...and had demanded that he tell her what had happened, in the name of their union, and what they had shared in the past, together. He could not refuse such a request...and so, he had told her. And the walls of silence had come crashing down; a wall of pain, terrible to behold. And so inevitable. Eventually, she spoke again, as he knew she would. "I will not ask you explain *why* you and the others are doing this, William; I understand the reason. But I will never be able to bring myself to *accept* what you have done together, this night." He nodded, all too bitterly, in response to those biting words. "The President has called upon the Rangers to help save the people of Earth, in their darkest hour of need; and the Call must be answered, the duty borne. We are Anla'shok, Jennifer, and so is *she*...and when the President asks her to do this, as you know, she *will* go, with the rest, because it is the right thing to do. Even though this could mean death at the hands of the Drakh, or worse..." And then, Jennifer raised her gaze to meet his, her cheeks streaked with tears. "Or worse? I seem to have forgotten!...there's always 'worse' out there, isn't there? The Universe wasn't content to simply throw the Shadows at us, and steal away part of our lives, now was it? NO!...it also had to pull the Drakh out of its deck, and steal the rest of HER youth, as well! Will it never end, William? Will there never come a time when we can simply stand back and say, 'it is done...the battle is over? And will the war against the Darkness continue through the lives of our children, and theirs? *Farther*?" William quickly rose, then, and moved to end her suffering...and time enough it was, as Jennifer turned, and clung to him, as if seeking solace from the Night beyond their balcony's verge. "Valen willing..." he whispered, "That will not be the case. But if they are to enjoy the future they deserve, for now, Julia and the crew she will surround herself with must walk the path of the Fire, once again...one more mission, a mission of terrible importance..." "Five years..." Jennifer replied, her eyes now beginning to dull with the need for slumber. "An exile from all those they know and love... In the name of Earth, and her people. What have they done, to deserve such a thing?" William nodded somberly at that final comment, as he gently took his love towards their bed, and the sleep that he hoped they would both be able to find. Five years; only, he hoped...he *prayed*...that it would not take that long to find the cure. For everyone's sake. * * * Outside ISA Headquarters, Tuzanor; mid-morning, local time. Four days after the Drakh attack on Earth. What I do, I do in the name of duty, she thought, as she strode briskly down the stone and crystal colonade that curved around the tower just south of ISA headquarters. Behind her, to the southeast, the brilliant white sun of Minbar was rising above the deep layer of fog that filled the Valley of Sorrows...the calling card of the previous night's rain. The sun, however, shone cleanly through the fog layer, casting shards of rainbow light from the crystal pillars of the colonade... A new dawn; bringing with it so many questions... What I do, I do in the name of honour, she mentally added, moments later, as she passed through the sun-facing entrance of ISA HQ, emblazoned, like the other two portals, with the star-and-spiral emblem of the Alliance. The President has called upon me, and come I must, for that is the way of my kind; to follow the orders of the man who has guided us through eight of the most frightening, wonderous years the galaxy has ever seen... But there were, however, some things she didn't understand. Already, her Sha'vei had begun to redeploy elements of the Fleet in response to the President's command; the ones nearest to the Rim, the ones most able to begin the search, had already gone, and most of the rest wouldn't be too far behind. So why, then, wasn't she with Tashann, at this moment, helping to direct that deployment? Why, in Valen's Name, had the President summoned *her* to this place? The possibilities...both troubled and excited her. And finally, the moment came as expected, and she found herself in the foyer that lead to the President's office; a place of light, and of the Minbari whose place it was. Her name were Chiraval; chosen by Delenn, as Julia understood it, another member of the family of Mir...and Julia arrived to find Delenn's younger cousin attentive, and waiting on the threshold. Chiraval bowed to her, a bow that Julia returned. "Anla'shok Val'na Tikopai." the young Minbari whispered, her smile a smile of tragic repose. "You are...expected." Julia frowned at that...it had been her understanding the rank was only to be temporary...what was *going* on? "I understand...if I may pass?" Chiraval nodded, and pulled open the door to let her pass...but even as she made to do so, Julia felt a touch upon her arm, and turned. "In the last five of your years..." Chiraval murmured, "I have seen many different visitors pass through this portal, Val'na. And it is often the case that those visitors emerge, changed by their ordeal. This is your first time into his place of power...and I have heard of you, what you are, where you have beenn...and you will not emerge from this without being *changed* by his touch. This I know to be true, already." "We shall see." "We shall, at that." Chiraval backed away, then. "You may enter." Julia paused at the verge, took a deep breath, and then stepped inside...beyond the point of no return. As if in grave accompanyment to that thought, the door closed behind her with a rather ill-timed boom, while her eyes were drawn, as if magnetically, to meet the gaze of the man whose room this was; the tired, but penetrating gaze of President John Sheridan... And then, it began. A moment of revelation. A moment of perfect beauty...before the storm. "Do you know why you are here, Captain Tikopai?" the President began, rising out of his chair. At this beginning, she felt an almost palpable shock go through her...CAPTAIN? This was the title that all but screamed the word 'Mother', in her mind!...her mother had been a captain through thick and thin, through crises both known and classified, and was still out there, on the deep range, even now probably receiving new orders to do with the search for the plague cure... Her mother was the captain in the family...not HER! And that shock must have certainly reached her face, by now, because President Sheridan was nodding grimly at her discomfort. After a moment, he gestured her to take a seat, which she did...before sitting down, himself. "You heard correctly, *Captain*...and you will forgive me if, for the time being, I do not use the Ranger rank you hold, because I am not familiar with the term. 'Captain' is a word I know, and a word I understand, all too well...and its meaning, and all the baggage the comes with the rank." "Of course, sir..." she whispered, still doing her best to deal with what had just happened; she knew her histories, and would not even question his wisdom on *that* topic... "I...understand." "No, Captain..." the President replied, his gaze now sharp. "I don't believe that you do; but that's the reason I summoned you here, today, so that you might *begin* to understand what this is all about. First: it is my understanding that High Councillor Westcastle temporarily conferred upon you your present rank just prior to the defence of Earth against the Drakh. Is this true, or not?" "It is...sir." The President made a note on a piece of paper on his desk, before bringing another into plain sight, and signing it. "So far, so good, Captain...as of right now, as President of the Interstellar Alliance, and with the agreement of your leader, Entil'zha Delenn, I am making that promotion PERMANANT." The President pushed the scroll across the desk, and with a nod of his head, invited her to pick it up, and read it...which she did, her hand shaking, all the while... "I...thank you for this honour...sir." But why? What did this *mean*? "You may not want to thank me just yet, Captain; with that permanancy comes a job I wouldn't wish on anyone, not even you, despite the glowing recommendations I've received from the Rangers who have both trained with and commanded you, over the past five years." She nodded at that, knowing *exactly* which Rangers would appear on that list...but what of the task that went with the rank? What *was* the mission? "Sir...with all due respect, and you will forgive me for saying this, but I don't believe I understand where this is going, any longer. My commander, Tashann of the Minbari, is even now redeploying the White Star Fleet in preparation for the start of the EXCALIBUR's search for the cure to what ails the people of Earth. You imply that I must *command*...and yet, every Ranger command I know of is already on its way out towards the Rim..." "Not *every* command, Captain..." came the inevitable reply. "There's one closer to home then just about anybody realizes...and if your mission is to succeed, that must continue to be the case." The President rose to his feet, then, inviting her to follow suit. "The mission that the EXCALIBUR is about to begin is a critical one; it is a mission that cannot fail, if the people of Earth are to survive...and they must survive, because if we let that plague run its course, we will have conceded victory to the Drakh and their forces... and that cannot be allowed. As such, the EXCALIBUR must be PROTECTED against attacks both by the Drakh, and also by any other hostile forces she encounters, while searching for the cure. And for the protector to succeed in its aims, that protector must remain secret, and hidden...*must* do the job, and do it well. " President Sheridan closed his eyes, for a moment, before continuing. "To be honest, Captain, the only way the EXCALIBUR will end up being destroyed by its enemies, is if its protector has already *been* destroyed. The job must be done perfectly, until the mission is complete." "Forgive me for interrupting, sir!" she interjected, almost desperate now to find out where this was going. "But I must know what this *means*! 'Protector', you say!...WHAT protector are you referring to?" The President finally smiled at her directness, and with a flick of a switch on his desk, both darkened the office and activated the holographic projector on his desk. "THIS protector, Captain." Julia's thoughts paused, then, the astonishment now prevalent upon her beyond even that which had come with the President's earlier pronouncement. In future years, she would look back on this moment as the beginning of something both terrible and wonderful, a duty heavier then a mountain and brighter then a rainbow... A gray and silver ship hovered over the President's desk; at first, she thought it a White Star...and then, she leant closer, realizing the image was being projected in real time...and *saw*... "In Valen's Name..." she whispered, her voice near to cracking with the awe she felt, at seeing this vision of possibilities made *real*. "It's...it's *beautiful*, Mr. President! And terrifying, at the same time, so...purposeful. What is she? What is her *name*?" "Her name, Captain..." the President replied, almost fatalisically, "Is the SHARD OF NIGHT, the first battlecruiser-class starship to serve the Interstellar Alliance, to date...and there is, besides the EXCALIBUR, no other ship in known space that can do what she can do. And it has been decided that the Rangers shall crew the SHARD OF NIGHT, and serve as escort and protector for the EXCALIBUR, in all the dark places she must walk." "Vi'dalae An'shaka." she murmured in translation, her mind whirling with the possibilities of what this meant...and...and did *this* mean what she thought it meant? Was he asking her to... The President finally smiled at that comment. "Well, I suppose I should have *expected* that, from a Ranger...but the time for hinting is past, Captain...it's time to answer both the question you just asked, and also the question that began this meeting between us. The Interstellar Alliance, in consultation with the Ranger High Council, had decided to declare *you* the Captain of the Interstellar Alliance battlecruiser SHARD OF NIGHT, for the duration of the present crisis." The President stuck out his hand. "Congratulations, Captain Tikopai...in the words of someone we both knew, long ago... 'And so it begins.'" He was...and the declaration still hit her harder then she had been expecting. Another hammerblow, to accompany the rest that had come before it. And for almost the first time in her life, she didn't know what to say. Which didn't last, however...because even as she took the President's hand to accept the task, a buzz of exhilaration and astonishment still resounding through her, that the door to the President's office slammed *wide* open... Revealing someone who had a *great* deal to say on the matter of the ISA battlecruiser SHARD OF NIGHT. A *great* deal, indeed... * * * ->dgolding@connect.ab.ca