From dmb@any.isis.rl.ac.ukFri Mar 8 21:40:48 1996 Date: Mon, 4 Mar 1996 16:25:15 GMT From: Devious Brownies Reply to: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: That Guard Our Native Seas - Part 1. Preface. This story is set in 2259 and occurs soon after the events shown in the television episode "In the Shadow of Za'ha'dum". The events of that episode are some-time past and the brouhaha they caused has blown over, but they are not forgotten, nor completely forgiven. Garibaldi still feels some resentment to his presumptuous dismissal by Sheridan (still a relative unknown), and more than ever he feels alone. This story was written by David Brownless ("Devious Brownies") and comments and criticism should be sent to D.M.Brownless@rl.ac.uk. The characters and situations of the television show "Babylon 5" are the intellectual property of Warner Brothers and are used without permission. Additional material by David Brownless may be used by anyone provided that acknowledgement of its origin is included. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- "That Guard Our Native Seas" ---------------------------- Chapter 1. The building was squat, grey and unremarkable, apart that is from the figure. Framed by the picture window was a comical sight, bulbous, floundering, squeaking and wheezing. The slim hands laboured through the resilient plastic gloves, making the normally deft movements clumsy and uncouth. The dark form cursed the forensic sciences that made the sealed suit so necessary. It wasn't being made any easier by the complexity of the alarm, and the delay - and the haste it generated - made the probability of a mistake much higher. Fumbling the complex active-filter, the thief hissed in frustration and snapped the tiny clips into place without much thought or finesse. The probability of a mistake became a certainty and too late the wrist-light showed the tiny whiskers of copper that were meant to detect such tampering. The shrill alarm shredded the quiet of the night for just a moment before the filter reassured the security system and restored the signal. It was time enough. In the distance the dreaming spires began to wake.[2] The figure looked, and moved, not unlike a trainee astronaut as it paused only to throw open the glass door before setting off across the fields to safety, visibly straining under the weight of its pack. As a break-in it was a complete failure. But this was a break-out, and the thief hoped the delay in realising that would get them to safety. Time was now doubly pressing and their rendezvous could not wait. ---===***===--- "Chief?" The uniformed officer hopped nervously from foot to foot as he waited for the man crouching in front of him to respond, "Investigator Campbell!" Tim Campbell looked up from his study of the little trip that held the alarm in check, he scowled, "What is it Ross?" "The EA liaison is on channel, sir. He wants you!" "Oh lucky me!" Campbell snorted and pushed himself upright, "Where?" The deputy pointed to the screen in the far corner, and hastily got out of the immediate vicinity. Campbell walked slowly to the screen still deep in thought, he looked blankly at it for a second before remembering why he stood there. "Yes?" he said curtly to the flushed face staring at him. The other man did nothing but go redder. Campbell counted silently to himself, "... sir." he added. "I have a case for you, Campbell. Right up your street." Liaison- officer Symms smiled at some unshared joke. Campbell's spine went cold, "I've got a case sir. Tech-theft, possible off-planet espionage, probable insider. Serious." "Trivial. I've seen the preliminary reports..." thought Campbell, "... and it's obviously just vandalism. Some student-rag picked the wrong building. After all, nothing was taken." Campbell leaped, "We can't get confirmation of that until the project-head is found, but preliminary SOC[3] results indicate a theft WAS made." He pushed, "I suggest we ..." Symms cut him off, "I suggest you report to the adjudicator's office and start your new assignment before you wind-up on environmental-hygiene duties." Campbell's spine did another ten-Celsius nose-dive, "The adjudicator, what's up?" The Liaison officer's smile returned, and got wider. And wider. "I am proud to say that my Night-watch operatives have identified the head of `Home Guard', unfortunately she escaped before an arrest could be made, we need your `delicate touch' to bring her back. Zero publicity, understood?" Campbell stood stunned. "She!?" he stammered, Symms looked like a Cheshire cat, "Yes `she', one Joanne Mariner." , the denials chased themselves round his head. He forced the obvious question through his teeth, fighting to level his voice, "Where has she gone?" Impossibly the smile widened, "Ever been in space Campbell?" Campbell thought, "There's a little part of space of great interest to the Home Guard ..." he let the sentence hang. Campbell groaned. "Babylon 5." he whispered, "She's gone to Babylon 5". Chapter 2. The woman was tall, with long brunette hair falling around her shoulders in an elegant wave. Despite being several spaces down the line, the security guard studied her at length, unconsciously tilting his head as he followed the curves of her body. "My day just got better!" he muttered under his breath. He gave the pass he was holding a barely superficial glance and waved through its owner. The shrill sound of his link interrupted his reverie, he tapped an acknowledge, "Chalmers." A tinny parody of the chief's voice was barely audible over the ambient noise, "Paul? What's the hub-bub, bub. Still on arrivals?" Chalmers frowned, "Tell Pan-solar to check their figures next-time, will ya boss? Someone forgot to carry the four or something. The `New Orianna' was carrying SIX hundred and twenty passengers, not two." "Jesus!" Garibaldi sounded strained, "Look, help's on the way. `Til then build a barricade or circle the wagons or something." Chalmers smiled, "All right if I shoot a few Chief?" He looked the business man hopping impatiently in front of him in the eye. "Just make sure they're no-one important! I don't want another screw- up like last time! Garibaldi out." The man came to an abrupt stop. "And what brings you to the wild frontier sir?" Chalmers asked him. He drummed his fingers on the holster of his PPG. The man blanched. ---===***===--- Lou Welch walked up just as the brunette reached the front of the line. "Need a break Paul?" he offered. Chalmers gave him a `not on you life look' and turned back to the woman before Welch could step in. Lou merely smiled. "Your ident-card please." he tried to smile without leering, and was aware he wasn't making a very good job of it. He heard Lou's muffled snort behind him and felt himself going red. "Ident, damn!" the woman muttered and quickly dropped the hold-all she was carrying and began to rummage. She bent from the hip and presented Chalmers with a view that made Chalmers go redder. Behind him Lou appeared to have developed a nasty cough. Chalmers favoured him with as cold a stare as he could muster in his heated condition. Still snorting, Lou waved a few people over to another gate. He turned back and took the waiting woman's ID. "Patricia Campbell. Botanical Engineer." he read. He stopped on the next line. He checked it again, and still it read `Born 2209.' - , he thought. "I exercise." she said, flatly. "I'm sorry ..." - he checked, - "Mrs. Campbell." He paused, , "Look, if you need anything just ask for `Paul Chalmers', I'm easy to find." She smiled, "Yes, you're the one the colour of beetroot." Recovering her hold-all she sauntered away. The sway of her hips looked deliberate. Behind him Lou cracked up. "The ol' `Chalmers' charm' eh Paul?" he gasped. The next man in line was the same colour as he was, but for an entirely different reason. "Now you have got a social life perhaps we can get on!" he snapped and thrust out his ID. In doing so the sheaf of flimsies the man carried came loose and fell to the floor. Chalmers quickly stooped to help gather them up as the man spat a tight stream of oaths. Abruptly the man was silent, Chalmers looked up but instead of an irate business man there was only a single black iris, filling his world. A sight that was both familiar, yet unknown. "Ambassador Kosh!" he stammered. The Vorlon looked through him a moment more, then brushed past without a word. Briefly, the Vorlon appeared to stagger, but caught itself and hurried on. Lou called after him, "Ambassador! Is anything wrong?" But the Vorlon was already gone, silent and inscrutable. ---===***===--- In the adjacent corridor the Vorlon paused. Casting a slow glance around it saw it was alone and slowly the encounter suit appeared to `settle'. A muffled voice came from somewhere inside, "Christ, this thing is heavy!" ------------------------------------- [1] The title is a quote from a poem, "Ye Mariners of England That guard our native seas, Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze." Thomas Campbell, "Ye Mariners of England" [2] "The dreaming spires" is a reference to the University town of Oxford in the United Kingdom. [3] Scene of Crime. Usually the SOC report produced by the senior SOC officer at the scene is the first actual documentation from a crime. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From dmb@any.isis.rl.ac.ukFri Mar 8 21:40:50 1996 Date: Tue, 5 Mar 1996 14:55:03 GMT From: Devious Brownies Reply to: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: That Guard Our Native Seas - Part 2. Chapter 3. Campbell hadn't imagined it would affect him so badly. He was pale, shaking, not to mention tired and hungry. His stomach wouldn't let him watch anyone else eat, let alone hold his own food, and at the `suggestion' of the ship's captain he had spent most of the trip alone in his cabin. Every night the screams kept him awake, every night he saw the broken bodies of his friends. Every night in space was THAT night. Campbell looked around the bay. he thought, He could almost believe it. Almost. "Ten years!" he murmured, "Ten fraggin' years! And I still shake like a leaf." In the cool and the gravity his nausea began to subside and with a sigh he picked up the small cloth sack that held everything he'd been allowed time to pack. THEY had got him out of the way in a hurry and Campbell thought he knew why. Slowly, carefully he made his way to the check-in, he noticed he was the last new arrival. This was good. The woman security officer regarded him with some concern, "Your first time in space sir?" She looked genuinely concerned. "No, I've been in space before." he smiled wanly, "I've been a lot closer to it than this." He handed her his ident-card, face down. Casually she turned it over, but quickly flipped it back when she saw the crest, and the two black lines drawn parallel through it. Her card reader sounded twice in confirmation, the display verifying both that the card was genuine and the meaning of the double black. She handed it back to him as if it could bite her. he thought, "I'll need to talk to Mr. Garibaldi." he murmured at a barely audible volume. As she raised her link he caught her arm, "Tell him in person. And just Garibaldi!" Campbell walked off. Behind him the woman quickly shut the gate, it was locked and surveillance activated with a swipe of her card. He watched her stride briskly into the crowd. "So it begins." he whispered. Chapter 4. "What!" Garibaldi shouted, rising half out of his chair, "Oh man! Just when I though I was over the worst." He looked towards the ceiling, "So what is it with you, huh? One Job wasn't enough for you?"[1] He sank back down into his seat and picked up a report only to throw it aside, "Damn! Damn Earth Force, damn Earth Dome, and damn this ..." "C-C-Campbell sir!" the officer supplied. Garibaldi caught the stammer in her voice and looked up. he thought, and sighed, "Have you told the captain yet?" "N-No sir, just you sir." Her breathing came visibly back under control. "Yeah, he IS a bit of a `kill the messenger' kind of guy." "Yes Chief, I mean no Chief, I mean ..." She paused, suddenly uncomfortable. Garibaldi waited, it became obvious that she needed some encouragement. "Come on Rachel, this is ME remember? The chief? Everyone's favourite `father figure'?" He bobbed his head and shoulders in what he hoped was a friendly way. Rachel cleared her throat, "I kind of got the impression that Captain Sheridan wasn't to know." Garibaldi felt the urge to swear and drew breath. Catching the look in his junior officer's eye he let it out again. Raising his eyebrows Garibaldi flashed her a `put-upon' look. "Hooh boy!" ---===***===--- John Sheridan strolled casually through the Zocalo, listening to the bustle of a thousand small trades, absorbing the atmosphere of the marketplace. This was HIS station, and if C&C was its heart then THIS was its soul. he thought. To one side a movement caught his attention and turning he saw Garibaldi scanning the crowd. Their eyes met and Sheridan raised an eyebrow. The security chief rose two in reply. Sheridan sighed. he thought and made his way through the crowd to Garibaldi. "Were you looking for me, Mr. Garibaldi?" he asked lightly. "I'm not looking for you, I didn't find you and I haven't seen you!" Garibaldi said, his face set and his eyes hard, "In fact I'm very busy catching up with my paperwork at this very minute." He looked at Sheridan from under his eyebrows. The `do you understand' was very clear. Sheridan said simply, "I'm listening." "One of my officers just checked through a rather special passenger. One carrying a Justice Department badge with a double black on it!" Sheridan was taken aback, "Two stripes?" This was a first for him. He remembered his only previous encounter with a one stripe, that was bad enough. One stripe for unlimited jurisdiction, a second demanded unlimited co-operation, and a third? A third stripe was something only the most unlucky ever saw, unlimited means. A great mythology had grown up about the stripes. Psi-corp used a stripe to indicate that a Psi was temporarily authorised to perform mind-scans without a person's consent, Earth Force officers were required to wear one at executions. Over time the stripes had even been given nicknames; judge, jury and executioner. Sheridan took a hold of himself, "Judge and jury, huh?" - Garibaldi merely nodded - "But why the `I'm not here' routine?" "He's informed ME he's here, I don't think he had any intention of telling you. I'm damn sure I wasn't supposed to either but I don't want /anyone/ getting spooked!" Garibaldi accented the `anyone' slightly. Sheridan took his meaning, "I'll make sure /anyone/ who might `spook' is suitable prepared. Thank you, Mr. Garibaldi." "Michael." Garibaldi smiled tightly, "Well that's enough paperwork for now, I'd better go find out what this guy wants." He tapped his link, "Garibaldi. Any messages?" "One message." The answer came in the computer's calm, measured tones, "Message reads: Grey seventeen, apartment nine. Any time." Garibaldi looked at Sheridan, "Doesn't waste his words does he?" With a nod he set of through the Zocalo, towards the transport tubes. Sheridan thought a moment then activated his link, "Sheridan to Ivanova" A pause, then, "Ivanova here, go ahead Captain." "Susan, it must be time for your break. How about I buy you a coffee?" The silence from the other end was blank testament to Ivanova's puzzlement, "Captain, I don't get off duty for another two hours?" "It's not like you to turn down a coffee, Susan. Why just the other night we were saying how expensive it was out here." Sheridan persisted. he thought, <`the other night', when do `we' meet at night.> "You've convinced me Captain. Where can I find you." "I'm down in Med-lab 1," - - "why don't you come by now?" Still talking he started through the crowd, with luck he should just have time to brief Dr. Franklin before Ivanova could shake free of C&C. "Should I bring Michael along, I think you owe him a coffee!" he twitched, "No, Mr. Garibaldi is doing his paperwork. I wouldn't want to spoil so rare an occasion!" He heard Ivanova's involuntary giggle, "Sheridan out!" ------------------------------------- [1] This is `Job' as in the Bible, not `job' as in chief of security. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From dmb@any.isis.rl.ac.ukFri Mar 8 21:40:52 1996 Date: Thu, 7 Mar 1996 11:56:27 GMT From: Devious Brownies Reply to: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: That Guard Our Native Seas - Part 3. Chapter 5. Campbell absently swirled the cup of grey muck that the vendor had assured him was tea. He was tempted to pour it down the sink but couldn't decide whether this would add to its level of contamination or bleach some of it away. Reflexively he drained the cup then threw it across the room with a shiver. He browsed the meagre collection of data crystals he'd had time to grab. "TJ2, TJ3, ooh TJ1 and ... TJ4. Bloody typical!" He scowled, he had nothing he was in the mood to watch. And the entertainment net consisted of cheap porn full of unrealistic but buxom `alien' women begging human males to help `repopulate their planet'. Though two programmes had real aliens with unrealistic but etiolated `human' women begging them to help repopulate the Earth. he thought ruefully. The door chimed. Campbell tossed the crystals onto the table, "Open sesame!" "So you must be Aladdin?" Garibaldi said, sticking just his head and shoulders inside. "It was Ali Baba actually." Campbell corrected him. "So you're after the forty thieves?" "Or perhaps just someone forty times as bad as a thief?" Campbell countered, he noticed Garibaldi appeared to be looking just over his left shoulder. He turned. On the viewer the thin `woman' was doing something a human would have needed surgery just to try. The alien male appeared to be enjoying it though. Garibaldi coughed, "You weren't REALLY watching that were you?" "It's basically the same thing on all channels, although I admit this is a bit harder to follow than most." He looked closer, "What IS that she's wearing?" "It's part of him if you must know." "Screen off!" Campbell looked studiously at the far wall until what he'd just seen faded out of memory. He turned back to the Security Chief, "I think I need a change of surroundings. Your office?" Garibaldi shrugged, "Whatever you say. We can take the central mono- rail, it's quickest." Campbell went pale, "Let's go the long way round. I'm not in a hurry and I'd better learn the layout." "It's still your call." shrugged Garibaldi, following Campbell through the door. Campbell swiped the room card through the lock, then hit it twice before it registered. Garibaldi looked puzzled. "Why didn't you go somewhere better? There're even places with a view." "There is nothing out there I want to see, MISTER Garibaldi." Campbell said coldly, "Now shall we go or do you want to fish some more?" Garibaldi bristled, "This way INVESTIGATOR Campbell." ---===***===--- Inside another room the man detached the tiny device from the door. "They've gone." The room's other occupant, a business man, was still concerned, "Do you think he's after us?" "The better for us if he is, don't you think? Marrick?" The man turned and a quiet whine replaced conversation. Two shots from the business man's PPG disposed of his erstwhile `partner'. "No I don't!" said Marrick, and smiled, "Thank you for your co- operation, I would never have been able to get rich without you!" Reaching down, he pulled the belt from the corpse's slacks. He snapped it a couple of times, trying its strength. Chapter 6. Patricia Campbell wandered through the myriad of colours and shapes that was the population of Babylon 5. Her hair was pulled under a very sheer red scarf and she wore a Marcab `poncho' that, she hoped, effectively camouflaged her figure. Amongst this crowd she was a non- descript red-head, as any casual glance would note the colour of her `hair' and only closer inspection would reveal it wasn't hair at all. she thought, Her train of thought was broken by a sight that filled her with horror, and she strode purposefully towards a delicate Minbari with rage in her eyes. ---===***===--- Lennier was quite upset, although he knew it would never do to let it show. Holding the dripping corpse at arms' length, he turned it slightly to the left then the right, looking for something to cut off and save. The alien stall-owner drew his scaly tongue across the back of his teeth in what Lennier knew was a sign of impatience in that race. He sighed and tried again. "You are sure you cannot get another?" he hazarded. "Can get yes! But expensive, rare, beautiful!" The alien spoke in a broken mix of human and Minbari, "Not for HER to murder. She kill too much now. Will not help her butcher more!" Lennier turned away sadly. he thought, A shout caught his attention and he looked up to see a tall woman push through the crowd towards him. Alien and human alike seemed to melt and flow around her, some shying away the fierce expression, others careening off her as if they were dust. Lennier looked to either side for escape but it was too late. The woman was upon him and with an animal snarl she wrenched the tattered remains from his hands. "What the hell did you do to it? I can't believe you'd dare be seen with this! My GOD it's disgusting!" Her tight series of screams forced Lennier back a step, "What have you done!" "I did, I mean I didn't, I mean she didn't." He drew breath, regaining his composure he cast his eyes down and bowed slightly, "Nothing was done to it madam. They become this way and we are unable to ascertain why. I am sorry of the sight of it disturbs you!" The woman subsided, she was watching him closely he knew and after a time appropriate for respect, he looked back up at her. To his surprise it was she who lowered her eyes and bowed, "No it is I who should be sorry, I over-reacted. My apologies." She looked again at the weeping mass she cradled, "But I have never before seen a plant THIS sick!" "They are the Ambassador's favourite, scarce even on Minbar." added Lennier, "But they do not thrive on this station. It is with regret I must admit that this is not the first casualty. Ambassador Delenn is as deeply effected as you by their demise." "Oh it's not dead! Not yet anyway, but if anything can be done it must be done fast." the woman said, not taking her eyes off the plant. It was truly a horror, the blue stems were mottled with yellow bruising and its fleshy, purple leaves wept red `sap' from multiple sores. Lennier perked up at her words, "Anything you can do to save it would be most greatly appreciated by all Minbari on this station." Privately he added, "ME, but I can't ..." she stopped on sight of Lennier's crest-fallen look, she came to a decision, "I'll try, but I can't promise anything. I just don't have the facilities." "Whatever you CAN do is enough! Miss?" queried the slight Minbari. "Mrs. Patricia Campbell." Lennier bowed, "I am Lennier of the Minbari delegation. Be assured I will inform the Ambassador of your graciousness." Lennier smiled and bowed once more. He turned and set off in a more serene frame of mind. Patricia Campbell watched him go, Under her breath she added, "Way to go Patty!" She looked again at the suffering plant. She scowled, "Paul Chalmers!" She said, then grinned, "Well he DID offer!" ---===***===--- Chalmers had just made it to the `Dark Star' when he heard his link sound, "Never fails ... Chalmers!" "Paul? Paul Chalmers?" "Yes?" he replied puzzled, he didn't recognise the voice. Perhaps his luck was in and this WASN'T official business. "It's Patty Campbell!" "Patty." His mind stumbled trying to recall the name. It came to him, "The fox! I mean yes, what can I do you for Mrs. Campbell?" He felt himself starting to blush again. The tinkling laugh from his link's miniature speaker reassured him. "Look I need a BIG favour and it's not strictly regs. So I thought if I want to bend a rule or two the best person to ask is a copper." "Sure, what're you after?" "A Med-Lab." Paul wheezed. "Paul, Hello? Are you still there?" "That's not a small thing to ask for! I can't just let you loose in one of the labs." "I didn't think you could, but you CAN ask a doctor if he'll let me run a couple of tests." "Tests on what? Is someone sick?" Paul asked furiously. "I've got a VERY sick plant down here." She paused and Paul could FEEL her indecision, "Look, it's the Minbari Ambassador's and I've said I'll do my best for it, but without tissue and soil analysis I can't even make a prognosis!" "So that's what you're doing on B-5! I was surprised when Hydroponics said they'd never heard of you." "I'm flattered you checked, I'm old enough to be you're mother." Paul felt himself redden again. "You're NOTHING like MY mother!" Suddenly he was curious, "How'd you get through to my link?" The answer came to him a moment before she said it, "I told them it was a medical emergency. Look I've arranged a message service, call me back okay?" The link went dead. Chalmers shook his head, "Not just a fox, a SLY fox!" He looked at the `Dark Star's beckoning entrance. With a sigh he turned and set off to look for Dr. Franklin. The chief turned the corner in front of him, accompanied by a sallow faced man he didn't recognise, he gave them both a wave as he passed. Only Garibaldi, who was looking particularly pleased with himself, responded. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From dmb@any.isis.rl.ac.ukFri Mar 8 21:40:53 1996 Date: Wed, 6 Mar 1996 10:06:41 GMT From: Devious Brownies Reply to: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: That Guard Our Native Seas - Part 4. Chapter 7. Garibaldi felt as good as Campbell looked bad, and he desperately resisted a sudden urge to whistle. He thanked whatever supernatural power had delivered this retaliation into his hands. he thought, and whistled a tune from his GROPOS days, the lyrics of which were very crude. Campbell just glowered at him. He'd got his first inkling about 12 decks ago, when Campbell and he had come to the end of the mid-shell prior to making the crossing to the fore-section. When they had encountered their first window. Campbell drew a sharp breath and looked fixedly to the front, ignoring completely the spectacular view that drew the eyes of so many other people in the corridor. And Garibaldi had maliciously commented, "Will you just look at that!" Campbell had winced, and Garibaldi had found something to keep him happy for hours to come. Since then, and with complete disregard for the salient points of the station's architecture, Garibaldi had managed to twist, skew and KNOT their progress to his security station. Hence had they passed another seven viewing windows and traversed two semi-glazed corridors, one of them twice! He saw Paul Chalmers heading in the other direction and they exchanged waves. Garibaldi looked over his shoulder at Chalmers' retreating back. He turned back and caught Campbell looking at him. "Do we continue or are we scheduled for another `short cut', a shuttle ride perhaps, or a quick yomp across the outer hull with magnetic boots on?" Campbell's rancour hadn't diminished for his suffering. Garibaldi was unabashed, "Damn! I didn't think of that one!" he thought, "Just two tube rides and one more corridor after this." He dithered over the next question. his brain urged him. "Look, why the hell send a flat-lander like you out here anyway? It seems like a pretty dumb assignment." Campbell started walking again, "I have probably spent more time in space than you have Mr. Garibaldi." "Yeah? Well you sure don't act like it!" Garibaldi answered, sceptically. "And you want to know why, is that it?" Campbell said without looking at him. Garibaldi hesitated, then nodded. Campbell started talking, his voice a flat monotone that chilled Garibaldi's blood. his mind made the unpleasant observation. "I was on a lightly armed deep-spacer during the E-M war. Most of its personnel were on down time when the attack started. The alert sounded almost simultaneously to the decompression alarm. "You can't imagine the confusion of nearly two hundred half-asleep people trying to fasten suits that were little more than mylar and tin- foil. Inside a minute the order came to abandon ship and still dressing we scrambled towards our assigned evac points. I was near the front when they undogged the hatches. There wasn't enough of the ship left on the other side to even alert us to the danger and we were blown into the vacuum, ready or not. "Perhaps a hundred hadn't had chance to seal-up and died immediately, I could see maybe fifty as I tumbled. I watched the blood flowing from their mouth and their ears in the light of the burning ship. Many of the rest were shattered against the bulkheads on exit. "Then I saw the fighter. "It was beautiful. Like a purple and white orchid, as graceful as a swan. I felt ugly and insignificant by comparison and I doubt it even noticed as it brushed me aside. It was the lightest blow but it scored across my face-plate and left a spider-web of cracks that started to leak air like a sieve. "When I thought things couldn't get worse, the wreckage came, or we came to the wreckage, I couldn't say which. But of the twenty or so of us left, one by one we were smashed or shredded by stray metal and plastic. Until we were only four. I floated in the darkness seeing nothing but dying friends and the mosaic of fractures that had already killed me. Hearing nothing except their screams and the hiss of my forty minutes of air becoming twenty minutes, then ten. Then five. "Our escort ship had been taking heavy damage, it weathered the assault just long enough to launch a shuttle before jumping out. The shuttle crew had to trust to the Minbari ignoring so unimportant a target. Turns out the escort was what they were after. My team, my friends, had all perished because we just happened to be in the way. The Saratoga lost thirty people launching a rescue. Only me, David Took, Christi Jansen and Nathan Theroux were left to pick up. None of us ever went into space again, until now." Campbell turned and looked at Garibaldi, who winced at the depth of pain in those eyes. Half-knowing the answer, Garibaldi asked, "What ship were you on?" "The Bletchley."[1] Garibaldi didn't know where to look. "I'm sorry." He thought back over what little he knew about `The Bletchley'. It was perhaps the biggest disaster of the war, except for maybe `The Line'. And it marked the end of any hope of effective resistance to the Minbari advance. Also known as `Big Ears' in security circles, The Bletchley had been home to the best breakers, tappers, tracers and comms-phreaks of Earth and its colonies. They had listened, intercepted, and deciphered maybe a hundred-THOUSAND hours of Minbari communications. They had identified the types and telemetries of a hundred Minbari vessels, revealing the enemy's strength and location. They had saved God knew how many ships from surprise attack and rescued twice that number from starting hopeless engagements. And sometimes they had faked Minbari transmissions, maybe pulling a cruiser far enough out of position to allow a re-supply vessel through. Then they had died, nearly to a person, in the cold, and in the dark, and unremarked. And without its eyes and ears the fleet died also. Ship by ship. Encounter by desperate encounter. Garibaldi thought, "JEEZ, I'm sorry!" "You couldn't know, it isn't on my record for obvious reasons. And I probably gave you cause enough, between space and the lack of a decent cup of tea I'm feeling pretty rough." The tube-doors opened. "Yeah? Well the second I can do something about!" Chapter 8. Dr. Franklin sighed. "You are SURE she's `bona fide'?" "It's on her identcard, that's all I can tell you." answered Chalmers. "What about the plant?" "Well both the Ambassador and her aide were unavailable, but one of the Minbari staff DID say that Lennier had indicated that the plant was being `most appropriately handled'." "I'd prefer to be sure before letting someone fool around in here." Franklin persisted. Chalmers smiled reassuringly, "Doc, trust me, it's on the level. Look, you'll have your staff around to keep an eye on her. And from what I heard about the state of the plant, if we wait the thing's history!" Franklin felt himself caught in indecision. The puzzle sounded interesting and so did the woman. Every scientific conversation of the past month had been about medicine and he was looking forward to a fresh perspective, that was the plus. The minus was some special investigator out of Earth with the authority to poke his nose just about everywhere. After the incident with the underground railroad he knew he was on pretty thin ice with the captain. Some outsider cop catching him bending the rules would probably put him on the next shuttle out. His curiosity won, and he held up his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay! She's got an hour, two tops, and SOMEONE had better be buying me lunch for this." "Thanks Doc, and I promise never to call you `Saw-bones' again." grinned Chalmers, hitting his link. "Message for Patricia Campbell. Message reads, `Path-lab 1, soon as you can.'" Franklin sighed and pressed a button on the console in front of him. "Computer, log access permission to Path-lab 1 and environs for `Patricia Campbell' on my authority. Access expires in plus three hours." He turned back to Chalmers, "Now. Just WHEN have you called me `Saw-bones', and to who?" Chalmers' face fell. "Oops." ---===***===--- Zack Allen hurriedly swept his feet off the desk as Garibaldi entered, then had to stoop to pick up a sheaf of papers that followed them to the floor. When he straightened up he found Garibaldi introducing him to a man he hadn't seen before, politely Zack stood and extended his hand. His father had often repeated the maxim `if in doubt assume they're higher- ups', and he wasn't letting anything hold back his career. Unexpectedly the other's smile flickered, looking false on its return, and Zack noticed the man's eyes weren't on his face. He looked down at his arm. Prominent on it was the black band of the Night-watch. Zack plucked at it uncomfortably. "Nice little earner!" he commented lightly. The man's smile grew thinner. "Yes, but for who?" Zack considered the remark for a moment, the man (whom Garibaldi was calling Tim Campbell) was implying something, but its subtlety had lost him. he thought. His attention snapped back as Garibaldi addressed him. "Zack, pick up a couple of helpers and go down to Grey-17. That pirate station has spliced into the entertainment cables again. Find their patch and pull it, okay?" "This is the same mob that put out that V-flic with the commander and those two giant ..." Zack ventured[2], before Garibaldi interrupted him with a loud cough. Zack grinned. "So you DON'T want a copy if we catch them then?" He almost made it through the door before the Chief's outraged shout. Campbell wondered aloud, "Have you ever considered the symbolism of that armband. I mean here we have an organisation that identifies its member with a single black band." "You think they've set themselves up as `judges'?" asked Garibaldi. "Haven't they?" "You tell me, you've got TWO yourself?" Garibaldi noted. Now it was Campbell's turn to feel uncomfortable. "I'm no happier about it than you are. Think about it; they send me somewhere where I'm unlikely to be politic, then hand me enough authority to tread on everyone's toes, AND tell them to like it. Could YOU come up with a better way to make sure I get the least co-operation possible?" "Co-operation with what?" Garibaldi queried, "You still haven't said what you're here for." Campbell sighed, "It's quite a story, and I believe someone mentioned tea?" "Hell if it'd make you open up I'll tread it myself!" "That's wine." corrected Campbell, completely missing the joke. He glanced at his watch, "And could I trouble you for a channel to Earth." Garibaldi tried again, "Sure, everyone gets ONE call." This time Campbell caught the mood, and laughed. ------------------------------------- [1] Named for Bletchley Park, the centre of British code-breaking during World War Two and home of the first modern computer. [2] V-flic. A film utilising computer imaging to produce virtual actors, or to reproduce real people in virtual scenarios. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From dmb@any.isis.rl.ac.ukFri Mar 8 21:40:55 1996 Date: Wed, 6 Mar 1996 16:55:10 GMT From: Devious Brownies Reply to: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: That Guard Our Native Seas - Part 5. Chapter 9. When Garibaldi came back he was holding a small tray with a teapot and two cups. There had been a slight delay while he convinced man on the canteen counter that `mislaying' some of the VIP reserve tea was infinitely preferable to, say, a spell in council-room catering, on the Pak'ma'ra counter. he thought. Campbell was staring intently at one of the screens. "What are you watching?" he asked. "It seems to be some local-colour drama. It's not very good, the sets are cheap and tacky and the characters are totally unrealistic. I mean they would never make anyone as waspish as HER a commander!" Garibaldi peered over his shoulder. "That's the security-cam in C&C." "Have a high staff turn-over do you?" commented Campbell. Garibaldi was about to reply when he realised he was being gypped. With a laugh he poured out the tea. Campbell inhaled the fresh aroma and groaned. He snatched at the cup greedily, while Garibaldi spooned in three large sugars. Campbell watched him with a pained expression. Garibaldi shrugged. "It helps keep me sweet natured!" He sipped at his cup then grimaced and added another spoonful. "Okay, let's cut to the chase." Campbell hesitated. "I was sent here by the Anglian Province's Adjudicator to track down the ..." he started but was interrupted by the chime of the view-screen. "Comm. channel, open." reported the computer. A fresh-faced young man replaced the Babcom logo. "Hiya boss, how are you holding-out?" he opened, with genuine concern. "Better than expected Ross, thanks for asking. What about you, how goes the case?" Ross looked troubled. "Turns out it was a bust, nothing was missing after-all. The, err, project head said that the space was due to an item having been shipped for, err, underwater testing." "Oh? What was the item for?" Ross appeared to shuffle some papers off-screen. "I wrote it down somewhere ... No it ain't here. Is it important?" Campbell shrugged. "Just interested. What have they got you doing now?" Ross continued to fidget. "Oh I'm tracking a hit and run." "They've put a Deputy Investigator on a hit and run!? I'd ask for re- assignment if I were you." Campbell commented. "Well the victim was, err, some big industrialist's daughter, we're treating it as commercial terrorism." Campbell smiled coolly. "Well good luck! I look forward to reading all about your progress in the papers while I'm out here." He cut the link before the ashen Ross could reply. "He's lying." Garibaldi commented, superfluously. "Not very good at it is he?" added Campbell. "Does this have any bearing on you're being out here?" "No." said Campbell firmly, "Apart from they took me off that case to send me here, they're unrelated. No the reason I'm out here is to ..." This time Garibaldi's link cut him off. Campbell waved at it resignedly. "Garibaldi, go." the chief said. "Chief? It's Zack. You had better get down here!" Came a voice. "Zack? Look you'll have to handle the splicers on you own, I'm busy here!" Garibaldi said irritably. "It's not about the splice Chief. We've just found Ambassador Kosh in one of the rooms on Grey one-seven. I think he's dead!" Campbell choked on his tea and started coughing uncontrollably. In his mind Garibaldi could see the swarm of mottled tan ships, like giant spiders, that had surrounded the station once before, "No! Please, no!" he whispered. ---===***===--- Commander Ivanova turned from the Pak'ma'ra with a sigh and pressed the control for transmit. "This is Babylon Control to the Pak'ma'ra transport," She squinted at the unintelligible squiggles that indicated the ship's identification. "[schree-chup-chup-psseech]" supplied the Pak'ma'ra helpfully. "Thank you! Come in ..." She prompted the alien who dutifully repeated the sound. "Repeat this is Babylon Control." The speaker emitted a series of shrieks and squeals, then a moment later the flatly modulated tones of an auto-translator answered her, "We read you Control, what do you require. Please be brief, the captain will be greatly vexed by any delay." "Yours is not the happiest of captains at the moment anyway. Considering he is this minute stood beside me." she responded, unconsciously indicating the creature next to her. The captain took this to be its cue, and leant in to the microphone, Ivanova recoiled. Vibrating with rage the stranded alien let loose a continuous flow of incomprehensible invective, and the commander covered her ears against the screaming, keening censure. she thought to herself. The Pak'ma'ra appeared to run down. From the speaker came the quiet words of the translator, which had dutifully interpreted the whole exchange, "... again you stupid son of a Vree and you'll eat nothing but VEGETABLES for a WEEK!" , noted Ivanova reclaiming the mike. "Now that we've sorted THAT out. Would you care to PAY to have your captain shuttled to you, or do you want to take up a holding position and wait to be re-berthed?" After the obligatory pause the translation came back, "We will wait, thank you Control." The connection broke. Ivanova turned back to the still seething Pak'ma'ra captain, before she could speak her console called for attention. She held a hand up to the alien and hit the acknowledge, "Ivanova." "Commander? I need to talk to Sheridan and he's not linked in." Garibaldi's words fell over each other, in the background Susan heard a voice she couldn't recognise talking flat out. "Well no, the captain is in closed session with the council. He can't be disturbed until they break." There was a short oath, followed by a long pause. "Okay, YOU'LL have to take it. How fast can you get down to Grey seventeen, apartment?" "Thirteen." supplied the unfamiliar voice. "In about ten minutes should I wish to, Mr. Garibaldi, but I'm busy enough as it is. Whatever it is I am SURE you can handle it." Ivanova replied, privately adding, "Yeah? Zack Allen has just found Ambassador Kosh's body." For a moment Ivanova froze, then, "I'll be there in five!" As she made to leave the Pak'ma'ra caught lightly at one arm. It warbled delicately into a small translator it carried. "I believe we will require that shuttle after all." ---===***===--- Garibaldi and Campbell hit the corridor at a light jog, while Campbell rapidly brought the Security Chief up to date, "I've got one of your people holding the monorail, and another two should meet us on the way and an officer Welch volunteered to assist the commander. Also about half of the personnel in grey have orders to secure the crime-scene, the rest should be checking and logging everyone trying to leave." Garibaldi felt a momentary jealousy at the investigator's smooth handling, aloud he commented, "Only ABOUT half?" "Hell I don't know your people! I just waved my ident in their faces and told everyone who was born in an even-numbered year to do one thing and the rest to do another." Campbell sounded slightly irritated. "Not bad work. Anything else?" "The computer will notify you as soon as your captain links in. Medical staff are on stand-by, I informed the press to ignore any wild rumours or else. And I spat my tea over you paperwork by accident, sorry." Ahead of them a guard was holding a transport tube while another was preventing to animated Centauri males from entering. They hit the tube and the two guards fell in after them, the doors closed on the still gesticulating Centauri. Garibaldi slapped his forehead. "Damn!" He turned to Campbell. "You'd better go back, the Mono's in micro-gravity!" Campbell just nodded. "I know, don't worry about me I'll just be sick in my hat!" Garibaldi could see the sweat forming on his brow. "You aren't wearing a hat." he persisted. "So I'll be sick in YOUR hat!" "I'm not wearing a hat either!" "I'll commandeer a hat to be sick in! Look I'm going, and if I have to I'll pull rank to do it!" Campbell snapped. Garibaldi bit his lip, Eventually he turned away with a shrug. "It's your funeral!" "No." said Campbell quietly, "I've already been to that." Chapter 10. "Then you ARE interested?" Marrick looked around the dimly lit room uneasily. The semi-visible form opposite him shifted slightly, the motion was sinuous and suggestive. "You ask for a great deal, I would need proof that you CAN do what you claim." the voice was chilling despite its warm, low timbre. It had a resonance that reminded Marrick of dark honey, and a feminine roundness that was altogether appropriate. Anticipating this, Marrick reached into his pocket. Suddenly the atmosphere tensed as did the figure opposite him and even the sombre, carmine illumination showed the now taut muscles of her shoulders and arms. her hand held a small, snub weapon, levelled precisely at his head. Breathing lightly, Marrick slowly and gently removed the data crystal, keeping his fingers well apart so that it was easily visible. "There are three files on this crystal." Marrick explained, placing it on the table in front of him. "The first holds the flight paths of all traffic around this station for the past twenty minutes, including their progress through hyperspace. Such information commands a very high price, hence what I am asking could quickly be recovered!" The female Narn snorted contemptuously. "I could conceivably get similar information myself!" Marrick continued unconcerned, "The second and third files are immeasurably more valuable. Showing as they do the current disposition of space defences around the Narn AND Centauri homeworlds." He smiled insidiously, "The contents of one can be used to verify the truth of the other. My gift to you." The alien picked up the crystal, her fingers trembled slightly and her breathing was shallow. "We will inspect this data immediately, but I can do nothing until Ambassador G'kar has been informed. Where can we reach you?" "I'm not settled anywhere at the moment. Perhaps YOU could put me up somewhere?" Marrick accented the `you', emphasising its personal interpretation. He leaned closer to the Narn breathing in her dry-earth scent, "Sort of keep me to hand?" "Perhaps I might want much for such `accommodation'." she sneered. Marrick leaned closer still, "Perhaps it would be worth it!" The Narn recoiled with a hiss. "We will provide you with a room." She said with disdain, "No charge!" Marrick shrugged, "Oh well, I'll settle for just the money." At some unseen signal a Narn appeared in the doorway to one side and made a sharp, ritual bow. The woman jabbered at him briefly in Narn and he indicated that Marrick was to follow. As the strange human left another Narn entered. "Your pleasure, Attache Na'toth?" "Inform me the moment the Council breaks. And tell G'kar that I may have urgent information for him." She pressed the crystal into a small hand-held reader and strode to the console on the far wall. "Put me through to the Narn homeworld, the Staff of the Province of War." Na'toth glanced at the figures scrolling up the screen. she thought. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From dmb@any.isis.rl.ac.ukFri Mar 8 21:40:57 1996 Date: Thu, 7 Mar 1996 12:37:05 GMT From: Devious Brownies Reply to: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: That Guard Our Native Seas - Part 6. Chapter 11. Carole had her eyes pressed hard shut but even so the blood seeped from beneath leaving thick trails - black in the half-light - disfiguring her face. The world turned. Gareth was recognisable only from the ear-ring he had so often been ribbed about, the rest of his face a featureless pulp. The world spun. Christi sang a screaming, keening, weeping song and still she clutched desperately at what the shrapnel had left her of her husband. The world danced. The two halves of the ship tumbled in sick mimicry of the wholes last, desperate manoeuvre all the time spinning threads of glowing, coruscating fragments. And interspersed on this web hung tiny, silver forms like performers in some macabre ballet. The world... was light. Slowly, fearfully Campbell unfolded from his foetal position. As the memory faded did his own quiet screaming subside. He looked up again, still studiously avoiding the scene through the cabin windows. The faces of the four security officers opposite registered shock, disgust, pity and - on Garibaldi - compassion. The chief officer wordlessly passed him a kerchief and Campbell at last noticed how his nails had shredded his palms. "You might have warned me." he whispered hoarsely. Garibaldi shrugged lightly. "I did." "I meant about the tunnels!" "This station is five miles long, did you think we lit all of it?" Campbell though to himself, The car slowed abruptly, and Campbell welcomed the acceleration, a poor but blessed substitute for gravity. Finally it dipped off-centre to the platform and he was first through the doors when they opened, the lure of weight leading him on. One of the guards muttered under his breath, "What a sissy!" Garibaldi turned on him. "You ever been spaced, Mitchell?" he demanded. The man, shocked, grunted a negative. "HE has, so back off!" "Sorry Chief!" mumbled the sheepish guard. Garibaldi felt a tentative tug at his sleeve and turned to the embarrassed passenger behind him. "Can I have my hat back now sir?" he asked. ---===***===--- The guard on the apartment door recognised Campbell - and his authority - and let him through without a word. Inside were another guard and Zack Allen, both stood against the far wall. Both looked very nervous. Garibaldi hurried in behind him. The security chief just glanced questioningly at his aide. "In the bathroom Chief." said Zack quietly. The familiar bulk filled the shower stall, looking for all the world like it was standing at ease. If it wasn't for the crazy angle of the ophidian head, which hung limply, lifelessly, forward. The single iris was dark and still, the many small ducts hard and unmoving. The whole collar radiated an impression of lax arrest. whispered a panicked little voice in the back of Garibaldi's mind. Every nerve cried out for him to rescue a bottle while there's time, and he had to make every muscle keep him in place. Someone swept up behind him and he heard Ivanova's voice. "Bolshi nipriYATnast!"[1] "Ditto!" commented Campbell. He stepped closer to the suspended body. Garibaldi introduced him. "This is Tim Campbell." "Oh, the..." started Ivanova. Garibaldi shot her a warning look. "man who found the body." she finished. "No he's er..." Garibaldi looked at Campbell who waved permission absently, evidently engrossed in his close inspection, "He's a special investigator sent from Earth. He has authority to DEMAND our full co- operation." Ivanova addressed Campbell directly. "You're not what I expected in a special investigator." she said coldly. "And just what DID you expect?" Campbell enquired. "Someone more like a psi-cop, but without the empathy!" the commander snapped. "TOzhe priYATna paznaKOmita!"[2] said Campbell without looking round. Ivanova was taken aback. "You speak Russian?" queried Garibaldi. "Parlo italiano anche."[3] Garibaldi slipped a glance to the commander, who raised an eyebrow, impressed despite herself. Visibly coming to a decision Campbell reached underneath the hood. With a shout Ivanova pulled him back. "I wouldn't! The Vorlons are DEADLY serious about privacy issues." Campbell was unstirred. "The Vorlons use organic technology do they not?" he questioned. "Yes. So?" "Well this is organic chemistry." He rapped the headpiece smartly with a knuckle, it gave back a dull, even sound. Campbell noticed their continued incomprehension and sighed. "It's plastic!" he explained. This time Ivanova helped him pull the helm up, revealing two indented catches where it met the neck. Pressing with his thumbs he undogged them and the facia popped loose. It came off in Ivanova's hands revealing a thin, white face. A man's face, its red-black tongue grotesquely distended from the mouth. The leather strap of a belt cut deeply under his chin, while the other end slipped under the collar to wind through the steel grill of the cubicle's extractor system. "If that's a Vorlon, I'm Santa Claus!" remarked Ivanova. "Srazhdist VOM!"[4] Campbell added distractedly, his expression unreadable, his eyes unwavering. Garibaldi felt uneasy at the blank but intense look with which the investigator was favouring the dead man. he thought to himself. The commander had had enough and spun to face him. "PriniMAItye yad!"[5] she snapped and pushed past him. The look she threw Garibaldi was positively Siberian. But the security chief was watching Campbell. Taken aback, Campbell turned to watch the retreating form of the commander. "I think I'm in love!" Garibaldi's link began to buzz repeatedly, and he tapped acknowledgement. "MR. Garibaldi! Why is MY station in a complete panic?" came Sheriden's voice, dripping irritation. The security chief made an aside to Campbell. "Yeah? Well I think I'M in trouble!" Chapter 12. Patricia Campbell pushed the magnification on the CASTEM[6] an order higher. The ruptured, blistered cell walls came into sharper focus, jagged rents loomed like canyons and the pseudoplasts floundered like stranded jellyfish inside. Something had savaged their microfibril skeletons, devastated their structural integrity. Behind her Dr. Franklin let go a low whistle. "This is pretty heavy damage! Those fissures look more like freeze fracturing than the result of chemical action." Patricia shook her head. "No, frost damage would have cleaner lines, these membranes have been torn not snapped. Besides Minbari plants are well adapted to extremes of cold." "Really? It looks much like an ordinary plant to me." Franklin glanced at the `patient', the tawny patches seemed even more extensive than an hour ago. "Have you ever seen cells like these before?" Patricia wound down the magnification and gestured to the screen. Franklin shrugged. "All the time." "And how many PLANTS have you treated?" "None until now, but ..." Realisation hit Franklin hard. "These are ANIMAL cells! There's no rigidity in them at all, no cellulose wall." "They grow a rigid, biochemically inert skeleton to drape themselves on. Really this is a small colony of plants sharing a common support but they're only distinguishable at the genetic level. In fact you're right they are much closer in composition to Earth's animals than its plants, and are similar in organisation to say a coral or a sponge. But if it grows in the ground and eats sunlight it's a plant, period. We're a remarkably geocentric species at heart." "We're not alone in that failing. I've been to a lot of places and nowhere is much different." Franklin couldn't keep a slight bitterness from his voice as he spoke. "Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose!" "Sorry?" "It's French. `The more things change, the more they stay the same.'" explained Patricia. "I think it's built into every one of us. It took millions of years to adapt us to ONE planet, then in three generations we're supposed to manage a hundred more. Failure is inescapable." "I can't believe that!" denied the doctor vehemently, "I can not conceive of a creator blinding us so thoroughly to another's ways." "Why is it so damning? Why should there even BE a creator?" "Why should there not?" Franklin countered. "Well if he was any good at his job we would all come with self- diagnostics packages and you and I would be out of work!" Franklin laughed. The woman was vivacious, intelligent and able to hold an intelligent conversation while she worked. He hadn't regretted spending a moment of his down-time in her company. Patricia looked round at Franklin. "Have you ever been to Minbar?" she asked. Franklin shook his head. "No most of my travelling was before the war. Before we'd even met them." "I hear it is very beautiful. Very peaceful." Her eyes took on a far- away look. "Sometimes ... sometimes I'm glad the war didn't go the other way. Nothing they could have done to our world could approach what we could have, WOULD have done to theirs!" Franklin could plainly read her loss. "Did you lose someone to the war?" "No. But my father died in the war with the Dilgar, and my husband was killed by a travelling mine in the decontamination that followed it." Momentarily she looked ashamed. thought Franklin, "Yes I'm older than I look!" Patricia finished for him. "What the..." spluttered Franklin in surprise. Patricia laughed. "I've seen that particular expression so often, I know EXACTLY what it means." She affected umbrage. "You men are SO transparent!" ------------------------------------- [1] "Big trouble!" [2] "Pleased to meet YOU too!" [3] "I speak Italian as well." [4] "Merry Christmas!" [5] "Take poison!" Unfortunately my Russian doesn't extend to the language's more colourful vocabulary, so I invented this oath. Think of it as a `family entertainment' version of a more biological suggestion. [6] Computer Assisted Scanning/Tunneling Electron Microscope. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From dmb@any.isis.rl.ac.ukFri Mar 8 21:40:59 1996 Date: Thu, 7 Mar 1996 15:44:32 GMT From: Devious Brownies Reply to: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: That Guard Our Native Seas - Part 7. Chapter 13. Garibaldi and Campbell hovered impatiently around Doctor Hernandez while she made an /in situ/ study of the body, dictating her findings to a nurse. Campbell cut in to the monologue. "How long until you can give us a time of death?" "About two to three hours." Hernandez replied, immediately dropping back into the unmusical jargon of her trade. "No chance of getting it any sooner?" Campbell insisted. Hernandez gave a sigh heavy in exasperation. "The body has been DEAD two to three hours." Campbell and Garibaldi looked at each other as they hastily did the mental arithmetic. "Are you sure?" asked Garibaldi. The Doctor tensed, a dark fury visibly rising behind her eyes, then grabbed the corpse's hair and wrenched the head upright and indicated the blue-pink blotches on the chin. "Livor mortis, with the individual hypostatic marks just combining," she pressed hard with her thumb leaving a blanched, white imprint, "does not yet persist!" She shook the jaw from side to side savagely. "Rigor mortis, the body is still supple except for the eye-lids which perceptibly resist movement" She snapped, raking her fingers down the vacant face, still the dead man stared. "Without sticking a thermometer up his anus I can't tell you anything more before the autopsy!"[1] Garibaldi waved his hands placatingly. "Woah! We're just concerned because we were both in the area at that time." Garibaldi looked across at Campbell, "I would have thought someone strangling a Vorlon would attract SOME attention." Hernandez snorted. "So much for the `detective's nose', breath a little deeper gentlemen!" Campbell sniffed the air tentatively, beyond the normal cooking smells that were ubiquitous to such small cabins nothing struck him as odd. "Pork chops?" he hazarded. The woman doctor just smirked at him. Garibaldi looked ill. "Close." conceded the doctor, "It used to be called `long pig' because it tasted like pork." The investigator just stared at her in puzzlement. "Flesh, Mr. Campbell. It's the smell of cooking human flesh!" ---===***===--- Patricia Campbell was stood idly soaping her hands when Franklin returned, the air of defeat was palpable. "Problems?" she asked. He shook his head. "Doctor Hernandez is investigating a body someone's found, so I'm covering in case of emergencies." "A dead body isn't an emergency?" "No, it is altogether too routine." said Franklin tightly. Patricia considered the events of the last few minutes, there had been a hell of a lot of rushing around for a `routine' discovery. Suddenly, she felt conscious of her situation. She had been stupid, she'd got distracted by a plant and wasted what little time was given. Something, someone, had the station personnel on edge. The plan was obvious with hindsight, let her get far away from Earth, not out of their jurisdiction but away from the bulk of the media, and arrange a quiet little execution. she thought. A big conference with ISN, UT and News Interstellar, play on public opinion, beat the government at its own game. Then maybe the headlines would have been, `Head of Home Guard to form political wing.' instead of `Woman killed on Babylon 5'. She looked up at Franklin. Franklin misinterpreted her look of despair. He gestured at the plant, glistening with the dull lustre of a raw wound, "No hope then?" "I'm out of ideas, I'm out of guesses, I'm even out of wild notions." She rubbed her hands distractedly. "I can't help feeling I'm missing the obvious!" "Be careful with that stuff." the doctor added concernedly, "That medical cleanser is pretty unforgiving on the skin." Patricia looked up sharply. "It's really meant to be used on surgical gloves, you see." The woman just stared at him. "Is something the matter?" he asked. "Stephen, you're wonderful!" Patricia said, hurriedly rinsing her hands. "Well I know." commented the doctor smugly, then, "Why?" "The damage? As if all the cell membranes have been unzipped? It's detergent trauma! The plant isn't dying, it's being killed, hydrolysed to death!" "I can't imagine the ambassador washes it!" noted Franklin. "Yes, but what's harmless to a mulberry bush could be poison to a menitana. And I have a pretty good idea what the culprit is." Franklin waited. "Well are you going to tell me or do we play twenty questions?" Patricia grinned. "Metal. The plant is being poisoned by a metal." Chapter 14. Campbell watched the security men take the body away in its non- descript `sack'. The costume and room contents followed in two more. Garibaldi watched Campbell. The Security Chief felt someone standing at his shoulder. Looking back, Lou Welch caught his eye and shook his head the barest amount, Garibaldi responded with an almost imperceptible nod. Over Lou's shoulder Garibaldi could see the two technicians carefully, discretely, moving away. He returned to his observation of Campbell. he commented to himself, Campbell turned, and walked over to the waiting chief. "You're CMO knows her stuff!" "The Chief Medical Officer is Doctor Franklin, that was his second." corrected Garibaldi brusquely. "This must be popular tour, she's easily as good as the resident pathologist in Thames-Metropolitan." Garibaldi ignored the small talk. "Hadn't we be getting back?" Campbell shook his head. "I feel shafted. Look I'm going to put my head down for a couple of hours then I'll follow you back." he demurred, "If you've finished searching my room?" Garibaldi cussed, Aloud he added, "No slight intended. I thought it was a reasonable precaution." "You were right." Campbell walked the scant yards to his cabin door, then paused. "Why was your commander so hostile to me?" Garibaldi thought about it. "We had a bad experience with a couple of `eyes' about a year ago. The Psi hit on her and the colonel tried to impeach her commanding officer." Campbell swiped open the door. "They can't have been from my department then." he noted. "What, they don't do THAT kind of thing in your department?" spat Garibaldi sceptically. "Yes they do. But in my department they'd have BOTH hit on her!" Campbell walked through the door, which closed behind him. Despite himself, Garibaldi smirked. ---===***===--- G'Kar stared at his aide, his mouth hung open. Aware of how ridiculous he must look he fought vainly to present some semblance of order, but his body was frozen with a strange rictus. "Yes." Na'Toth commented, "The War-leader I talked to was affected in much the same way." G'Kar raged. "Then we will find this human and wring the name of the traitor from him and bind their inevitable confessions in their own flayed SKIN! As a gift to their centauri spy-masters!" "And the information on centauri fleet depositions?" "Pah! Obviously worthless lies meant to tempt us to some futile offensive!" "No Ambassador, I think you're wrong." Na'Toth said calmly. "What!?" "I think he is `honest', at least as far as that term can apply to his particular kind of vermin." Na'Toth watched his speechless fury pass a second time. "Consider." she continued, "If this were a trick of the centauri then they would have to have known our defences for the ruse to have credibility. If this were so it would have profited them more to exploit that knowledge in an attack of their own." G'Kar collapsed into the nearest seat. "That is true. But perhaps this human is one of these `con-merchants', selling us back our own secrets under cover of this absurdity!" "Then he is a fool as he could have made his fortune from Mollari with a tenth of the risk. But what if it is true?" "If it is true then every last centauri will die in his bed!" G'Kar spat. "Very well, find this man. Bring him to me." "But Ambassador, I have him quartered with our people." Na'Toth protested, "He can go nowhere unless we allow it." "What! And he stood for this?" "He wanted it." the aide answered, then muttered, "And that's not all he wanted!" "Well then GIVE him what he wants! Fulfil his every desire!" snapped the ambassador. "Not if the whole Kha'Ri were to BEG me, Ambassador!" she snarled. ---===***===--- Campbell looked around his room with open suspicion, then shrugged. The investigator revised his opinion of the security chief. Again. The man was likeable, and sharp. If all the staff were as on the ball as that woman doctor then Garibaldi would have to be shit-hot to have got this job, and to keep it. Conscious of the pressing of time, Campbell dropped the blank crystal he had palmed in the chief's office into the rather dusty port next to his display. "This is Special Investigator Campbell, I request the master file directory of Chief of Security Michael Garibaldi. Configure for a comprehensive search, include cross-references. My authorisation is `zaftig babes'" The screen changed abruptly. "Priority clearance accepted. Please state the nature of your query." "Search for active black market traders, focus on arms-dealings, special interests in small arms, Earthforce weapons, suspected caches. Process." Campbell grinned, Garibaldi's console had accepted his credentials and coughed up the appropriate clearances without a murmur. Of course he was SUPPOSED to do so in the presence of the Chief of Security, if Garibaldi was watching he'd be in conniptions by now. "Twelve subjects match given criteria!" interjected the computer. "Discard material involving inside information or undercover operations. Transfer the top three most cited subjects to crystal port. Show me the forth." The port flickered violet for a few seconds. The screen changed again. "Chase, William. Twelve aliases on file. Registered address; room 113, red five. No convictions. Suspected of involvement in..." "Cancel. Double cipher crystal with..." he uttered the two word key, "Clear and off." The screen went blank. Campbell carefully folded the cuff of his shirt over backwards then took the crystal from the port and concealed it in the cuff. He pulled his sweater sleeve back over the shirt. "Well Mr. Chase, this could just be your lucky day!" -------------------------------------- [1] This is /Algor mortis/ - or measurement of the internal body temperature (via rectal thermometer). --------------------------------------------------------------------------- From dmb@any.isis.rl.ac.ukSun Mar 17 21:45:58 1996 Date: Wed, 13 Mar 1996 10:53:53 GMT From: Devious Brownies Reply to: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: That Guard Our Native Seas - Part 8. "That Guard Our Native Seas." ----------------------------- Chapter 15. "Negative for Tin." Franklin pushed the tiny sample tube away and selected a fresh one. Behind him he heard the muted squeak of the stylus eliminating another suspect. "Negative for Manganese and Chrome too." Patricia Campbell amended. Two more squeaks. She reached past him and plucked another tube from their rapidly diminishing stock. "Are you SURE it's a metal?" Stephen queried. "Yes, a LIGHT metal. Minbar's soils lack many transitional elements, particularly the metals. It is most likely that the plant is hypersensitive to one of these." Stephen shrugged and dropped the pin he was holding into the sample tube. The blue-red sap suspension studiously ignored the intrusion. "Negative for Iron." He hunted through their improvised metal samples for something novel, a copper bead caught his eye. "Did you say NEGATIVE for iron?" said Patricia quietly. "Yes. Here, look for yourself." he recovered the previous sample. It was still a ruddy blue. In response Patricia held up the tiny jar she held. The head of a small tack was plainly visible above the purple solution. As Franklin watched, the colour shifted through indigo to an rich, opaque black. "I don't understand." muttered Patricia. "Tip it out, let's look at that pin!" The woman dutifully emptied the contents over the work surface. Franklin rolled the pin out of the melange, it felt rough to the touch. On impulse he touched it to his tongue, under the bitter juice of the plant was an acrid metal taste, distinct from the clean savour of iron and steel. He smiled superciliously at Patricia. "We agreed NO twenty questions, remember?" she reminded him. "It's been galvanised. This pin is covered in Zinc." Her grin was wide and very infectious. "Problem solved." Stephen reined her back. "Woah. Finding it is one thing, getting it out is another!" "When I was a poor undergraduate," she smirked, "I had this mineral deficiency project to do and next to no funding. So I schmoozed this postgraduate chemistry major into running a couple of simulations. And it just so happens that a Zinc and Sodium ion will neatly fill the binding site of a standard heavy-metal chelatant[1]. So much so in fact, that only a REAL heavy-metal ion can shift them!" "And Pfizer's ChelonHM range is available from all well stocked med- labs" finished Franklin. "CHM-4 is best if you can spare me a gram?" The doctor walked to an unobtrusive steel cupboard and unlocked it with a press of his thumb. He tossed her an unopened pound canister. "Take as much as you want." As she hurriedly made up a saline solution with the drug, Franklin inspected the plant closer. It was visibly wilting and through its body a filigree of calciferous threads were plainly visible. "Will it live?" "I said Minbari plants were tough, if it survives the next two hours it will be good as new in two days!" Patricia flooded the soil at the base with the mixture then gently washed the whole plant, letting runnels of solution rinse the stems and stalks. "What I don't understand," she said concernedly, "is where the Zinc is coming from." "From the faucets, I presume." said Franklin, then corrected himself even as Patricia shook her head, "No, even a mild solution of Zinc or Magnesium would give a Minbari an upset stomach. They'd HAVE to purify their water here." "So if the Zinc's not in the water then where?" ---===***===--- G'Timo-Pal feinted to the left, then spun right bringing the wicked, sinusoidal blade to bear. But P'Timo-Zahn had anticipated this, too long had they practised together as adolescents for Zahn to fall for such a basic trick. Zahn raked at the approaching blade, pulling the cut away from her body, then stepped in and gripped her opponents arm. Her cogent backhand stab pierced the shoulder at an oblique angle and the blade erupted through the chest, skewering the vile, green sash. she thought. Zahn felt a moment of regret before the euphoria of her victory swept it away[2]. The Drazi's reverie was broken by the shush of a footstep. She moved her body from idle dreaming to full awareness as a human rounded the corner. She clasped her hands in front of her, the innocent pose disguising how the blades in her sleeves were to hand. The man stopped. "I'd like to see Mr. Chase." he said. P'Timo-Zahn looked the stranger up and down. The clothes were of obvious Earth manufacture, and if the man carried money his posture concealed this fact well. That he was unused to such surroundings (and such dealings) was plain to her and Zahn decided that her employer would not thank her for intruding with this one. She snorted. "Mr. Chaze not seeing today. Another time, yes?" "Another time no!" The stranger held up an ident-card. Though curiously marked the security emblem was clearly recognisable. "Mr. Chaze not here, long time gone!" "Then Mr. Garibaldi will be very upset. Shall we go see him?" "Where's your link human!" persisted Zahn defiantly. "See the black stripes? They mean I don't need a link. They mean if anything happens to me, EVERYONE suffers!" Zahn noticed that the man's confidence didn't waver. Suddenly unsure, she backed down and turned to the intercom. "Vizitor, Mr. Chaze!" Chapter 16. The moment he stepped out of the transport tube Sheridan was aware of the tension. Rachel Walden and another officer he didn't recognise stood stiffly at attention in the corridor leading to Garibaldi's office, both looked distinctly uncomfortable. Raised voices carried all the emotion of a heated argument, but the meaning was lost. Walden's head turned the barest fraction before she recognised the captain. He drew level with her, at this distance the words became clear and he recognised the voices. It was Garibaldi and Ivanova. "If you want to play `ice maiden', great! But I'm telling you to do it somewhere other than around Campbell." That was Garibaldi. "I want to know WHAT he wants and what he intends to do about it!" Ivanova replied. "And you're planning to insult him into telling you? Great plan!" "So you're asking me to suck up to him, is that it? Well you can blow it out your..." "I'm not ASKING you to do anything, I'm TELLING you to keep the HELL out of his way!" "Or what, you'll arrest me?" "Don't think I couldn't! Misuse of the hydroponics, misuse of priority communications, hell I could SPIT a case good enough to have you confined `til doomsday!" There was a pause before Ivanova spoke again, so quietly Sheridan had to strain to hear, "Damn it Michael, I thought you were my friend!" "I'm trying to help you here, Susan!" Garibaldi pleaded, "This guy's sharp, he's not some monomaniac head-case like Ben Zayn! If you slip-up, he'll take you apart. He's ex-intelligence for God's sake, can't you see how dangerous that makes him?" "How long has this been going on?" Sheridan asked not looking at Walden. "But he killed that man! We can use that to get him the HELL off this station. I want him out of here, Michael, I don't want to spend the next few weeks looking over my shoulder." "About ten minutes, sir." the officer replied. "This is a security matter, Commander. Let it drop!" Sheridan's face set hard, he clenched his jaw until the nerves in his teeth protested. He activated the door and stepped through. Ivanova stood with her back to him, waving at admonishing finger at Garibaldi. "Well you're not my only `friend' on this station, we'll just see what the captain has to say." She turned and just caught herself before she collided with Sheridan. "Captain!" she stammered, "I was just saying to Mr. Garibaldi". "EVERYONE is quiet aware of what you were just saying, Commander!" John replied flatly. Garibaldi watched him closely with some trepidation. He reached out and activated the door mechanism, the door shut with unusual finality. "This is not the kind of behaviour I expect to see from officers under MY command." He turned to Ivanova, "This matter is Mr. Garibaldi's problem and unless specifically asked, you are not to interfere. If you have any problem with this investigation you bring it directly to me. Is that clear?" "But..." Ivanova protested. Sheridan feigned interest. "Yes sir." "Mr. Garibaldi. Your `guest' has demonstrated an extraordinary ability to spread panic throughout this station. I suggest that you inform him that I WILL require briefing, in confidence if need be," he shot a look at Ivanova, "as to his purpose here." "Sir." the security chief acknowledged. Sheridan stood aside from the door. "I believe your station is in C&C, Commander." Ivanova made to leave. "Oh, and Susan..." "Yes sir?" Susan questioned. "If I ever suspected you of using our friendship to exert undue influence on other crew-members, you would spend the rest of your short career taking census of the alien sector until I could have you transported back to Earth. Clear?" "Yes sir." replied the young commander, stiffly. She saluted and left. Sheridan nodded to Garibaldi. "Mr. Garibaldi." "Captain." the chief returned the gesture. By the time Sheridan made it back into the corridor, Ivanova was already in the transport tube. She held the doors. As Sheridan strolled towards the waiting officer, he caught Rachel Walden staring at him. And winked. She only just managed to muffle her laugh. ---===***===--- Chase liked to wield his influence with malice aforethought. `Power is for getting, power is for using' - that was HIS creed. But the card on the desk in front of him belonged to a man who had been HANDED more power than he could hope to accumulate. "I can ensure you, Mr. Campbell, that my business is quite legitimate." he opened in a low murmur. "Oh, of course." replied Campbell, without a hint of sincerity. "I have valid end-user certification for all my shipments. Resale is of course forbidden, but it is not my business to enforce this." "And you would never contemplate supplying proscribed weaponry inside the environs of this station, naturally." hazarded the investigator. Chase nodded his agreement. "Right!" continued Campbell, "That over with, I want a clean, untraceable PPG pistol and a full charge." Chase protested, "I object to this obvious attempt at entrapment, and maintain that I am unwilling and unable to provide such an item." The investigator produced a data-crystal, apparently from nowhere. "Between my wasted time and your missed opportunity, I hope not." Campbell put the crystal on the desk next to his badge. The small arms- dealer regarded it questioningly. "These are full copies of this station's own security files on your principal competitors; N'grath, `Deuce' Mozechenko and Mannix. You should find it invaluable reading." Chase made to take the crystal, "It's encrypted, of course." The hand retreated. Chase held out a hand to his bodyguard, who relinquished his PPG with some reluctance. Removing and checking the power-cell, Chase placed the snub weapon on the table in front of him. "Will that be all?" he asked with delusive politeness. In answer Campbell pushed the crystal across the table towards the susurrating criminal he faced. He rubbed his fingers over each other as he took his hand away, suddenly they felt dirty. Chase pushed the gun and charge unit towards him, then placed the crystal into the port of his desk reader. "And the access code?" he inquired. Campbell deliberately armed and pocketed the firearm before replying. "`Commercial advantage'." Chase's expression changed as the data started scrolling up the screen. Campbell felt sick at the visage of callous eagerness he witnessed. he prayed. He turned and left without a backwards glance. ------------------------------------- [1] Chelating compounds remove ions from solution by binding with them without precipitating. Hence the ions are eliminated from the metabolic process. [2] I believe JMS indicated that the Drazi are a hermaphrodite species, so I've adopted the usual biological parlance of referring to them all as with female grammar. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- From dmb@any.isis.rl.ac.ukSun Mar 17 21:46:01 1996 Date: Wed, 13 Mar 1996 11:40:48 GMT From: Devious Brownies Reply to: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: That Guard Our Native Seas - Part 9. "That Guard Our Native Seas." ----------------------------- Chapter 17. Garibaldi studied the shelves with as much interest as he could muster. Anything was better than watching the probing examination being conducted on the table behind him. He took the cap off a bottle of shocking pink liquid and sniffed it, and barely avoided dropping the bottle. Hurriedly he snapped the cap back on and replaced it. He was just reaching for another when he noticed that some of the containers on the shelf bore poison warnings. he decided. While he thought of what else he could be doing he missed Dr. Hernandez start her report. Realising she was speaking he turned, and winced at the sight of the half dissected corpse the doctor was discussing. "Sorry Doc," he interrupted, "I was miles away. What were you saying?" The petite medic pouted for a moment, Garibaldi imagined she was counting to ten, then resumed. "I was remarking that the plasma halo damage is quite extensive indicating that the shots were probably fired at waist height from a pistol and at close range. Also the core penetration extends cleanly through the whole body cavity which bears out this hypothesis. The entrance wounds are through the lower left lung just below the heart and there is no indication of a collapse bell inside or upon exit. Given that this indicates that the shots must have passed clean through, if you can find where they hit the wall you should be able to reconstruct both men's positions pretty accurately. The time of death is pretty much as I said before, perhaps a bit later." "If they were both men." Garibaldi corrected. "DNA scans of detritus from the body turned up two distinct genomes, the victim's and one other's. There wasn't enough for a blot, even with PCR[1], but it's pretty obviously human, and a man's!" "I couldn't ask for any more!" Garibaldi paused, "IS there anything more?" Hernandez allowed herself a small smile, "Well since you put the idea into my head, I measured his core temperature and compared it against the amount of anaerobic degradation in the tissues. They were a pretty close match. From which I deduce that there wasn't much of a struggle, if any, meaning the victim probably knew his killer well." "That's a lot of help, thanks!" Garibaldi noticed a sheet of adhesive stars on a tray to his left. He peeled one off with great ceremony and stuck it on the doctor's shoulder. "I hereby promote you to security officer, first class!" The doctor snorted dismissively, "Work for your money? You're out of your mind!" Garibaldi glanced at the caricature of a living thing laid out in front of her. "There are points in your job I'm not so hot on either! See you around, Doc." He made to leave when his link stopped him. "Garibaldi, go." "Sir? This is Lieutenant Corwin. I've just received positive ID on the DNA profile and finger-prints Dr. Hernandez submitted to Earth-dome. The victim is one David Took, but we don't have any record of his entry to this station." "I've heard that name somewhere before!" the chief mused aloud, then to Corwin, "What can you tell me about him?" "That's just it, sir. Only the basic physical data is available, everything else is stamped `classified'!" Something clicked and Garibaldi swore shortly. Now he knew where he'd heard the name, Campbell had mentioned him. David Took had been on the Bletchley. He turned back to Hernandez. "You say he KNEW his killer?" "Mr. Garibaldi?" Corwin continued, "Earth-dome want to know where we got our data, sir. They're quite insistent about it!" "Tell them we pulled his body out of a shower a couple of hours ago." Garibaldi replied, then reflected for a moment. "And tell them that Special Investigator Campbell is already on the case!" The security chief smiled. he thought, and paced to an available console. Repeatedly his calls to Campbell's quarters were either ignored, or unheeded. Frustrated, Garibaldi reactivated his link. "Get me Zack Allen." "Allen here." "Zack? Look, as quietly as possible I want you to tip a few of the guys to keep an eye out for Campbell." "The investigator? I saw him about ten minutes ago." "Where?" Garibaldi spat. "He was in the Zocalo, buying food, clothes and stuff. Do you want me to tell him your looking for him?" "NO!" Garibaldi shouted. Incongruously, he remembered Campbell's reaction to the arm-band Allen wore. He brought himself back under control. "I don't want him to think we're crowding him in case he takes it wrong." he dissembled, "I was just worried he'd got lost." He broke the connection. he thought to himself, ---===***===--- Lennier nodded to the guard as they passed into the ambassadorial wing. "I was very glad to receive you're call. And more so to hear that you had succeeded. Please accept my undiminished gratitude." The lithe Earth-women flushed a little. "I cannot accept all the credit, a good measure is due to Dr. Franklin." "Then I shall thank him also once I have finished escorting you to the ambassador." "I was hoping you could help me find the source of the contamination. So I can prevent a reoccurrence of the affliction." "Ambassador Delenn would be a much greater help in your quest. They are primarily her quarters after all." "Won't she be busy?" Patricia queried. "Oh no. We can always find time to honour a palora." Lennier remarked with a small smile. Patricia looked askance at him but he declined to explain. "We are here." he noted, and opened the door. He placed the restored plant he had been carrying on a near by pedestal and left with a bow. Patricia looked around the room with wonder. The initial impression was of space, though the room was in fact of only moderate size. Delicate chimes filled it with an atmosphere of gentle music and inspired use of light and colour gave the suggestion that she was in dwelling that bordered great plains. A delicate, almost oriental, woman was watching her with an indulgent smile, her lustrous hair falling in a natural cascade to her shoulders. With a start Patricia realised that THIS must be the ambassador. "I am glad you like it." commented Delenn simply. Patricia could only stare, her hand rising to touch the impossible mane. She snatched her hand back to her mouth, shocked at her actions. "I'm sorry!" she stammered, "You must think me terribly rude." The Minbari laughed, with a slight alien inflexion that gave the sound an exotic quality. "I am not offended." she reassured, "It is a quite natural reaction." Delenn played with a stray lock absently. "I think it quite suites me. Though I am not sure on the colour." Patricia smiled, disarmed by Delenn's relaxed intimacy. "Well they do say that blondes have more fun!" The fey ambassador looked puzzled and Patricia anticipated her next question. "It's just an Earth expression Ambassador. Really, that colour suits you just fine!" Chapter 18. Dieter Weiss was astonished to hear the chimes announce an unexpected visitor. He glanced up at Nalier who read his expression and ducked out of sight into a side-room, taking the papers they'd been studying with her. As soon as she was out of sight he released the door. A stranger entered, hauling several large foil carrier bags through the door after him. He bluffly dropped them in a pile at his feet and rubbed his shoulder with a sigh. The man caught Dieter's puzzlement and suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I have come to the right place?" he asked. "Dieter Weiss, Ranging Ways Incorporated." the German introduced himself, "How can I help you?" "Tim Campbell, Earth. I just promised our mutual friend, Nathan Theroux, that I'd look you up. And, in the spirit of enlightened self- interest, I hoped you might be able to help me out with a little problem." Weiss looked the man up and down, there was no pin, the clothing was all Earth standard and the man had conspicuously failed to mention his allegiance. Everything felt wrong, Theroux hadn't been off his home colony of Bethany in a decade but he and Weiss had talked quite recently about expanding their base of operations there. "And how is Nathan these days?" "Oh I really can't say. We haven't talked properly for far too long, not since the war in fact. we served together, you know." Weiss gave an barely perceptible start, but he noted the man opposite heeded his slip. "I can't say I expected to meet one of Theroux's old friends all the way out here." "Well we don't travel overmuch. But I go where my business leads me, and it leads me here." Campbell answered. He reached into an inside pocket. Instantly Dieter tensed, and knew that Nalier would be equally tense in the other room. The other man appeared not to notice and casually produced an ident-card, he passed it to Weiss wordlessly. Dieter inspected the crest, and the supplementary markings, with some trepidation. "I hope I'm not in any trouble, Investigator!" "Actually it's the other way around. Nathan was expecting a package and I'm afraid it got lost on B5. I was hoping you'd give me a hand in finding it." "What is this package? And what makes you think WE can help?" "What is lost is mine and Nathan's business, I'll tell you what you need to find it and no more. And you can help because Nathan said you can. And if Theroux thinks you can win where I'd lose then I'd be a fool not to use your resources." Suddenly the Investigator straightened, his eyes gazing into space. Looking directly at Dieter he added, "You might tell your colleague that I don't bite." Nalier calmly re-entered the room. She walked with the relaxed energy common to all warrior Minbari, and her movements were supple and soundless. Dieter was pleased to note that this time Campbell was the one surprised. "This is Nalier," he introduced, "my girlfriend." Nalier's look was pure venom. "We try not to be too obvious. Not everyone would appreciate our relationship." "I can well believe that." Campbell replied, "Though personally I just think you're a very lucky man." Dieter caught Nalier's expression and hurriedly steered her past the investigator and to the door. "We'll just say our goodbyes and then you and I can continue our business in confidence." Once outside Nalier wrenched herself from Weiss's grip. "Girlfriend?" she spat, "Could you think of nothing else?" She hit him in both kidneys with the edge of her hands. Weiss's breath left him in a rush. "Set a recorder going on LC4, I opened it while he was watching you." he wheezed, "Then get on to Nathan Theroux and find out about this guy, and this mysterious package." On his return Campbell had spread half a dozen items and a range of small tools out on Weiss's desk. His mild annoyance was swept away when he recognised what the investigator was toying with. In silence he watched as Campbell pried out part of the gun's control mechanism, then successively opened the backs of the other items. Weiss could make out a clock, a card- sized receiver unit and E-book reader among them. "The missing item is a nineteen by ten inch unit, suitable for rack mounting with the letters `LKL-1' on the side. It features two six by five, high definition screens, a bunch of controls and a crystal-port." Campbell explained without looking up. He casually extracted three planar-processors from the miniature circuit-board and lined them up on the table. He reached for the calculator and began to study it's workings intently. "The item was last seen in the possession of two men. One of these men has disappeared, and his movements are probably of great interest. His name is Simeon Marrick and he's a `free-trader'" Campbell emphasised the euphemism, "I haven't got a picture for you but it should be on file." "What about the other man?" Dieter queried. "He's dead." Campbell was now on his forth item, and had added two new pips next to the three already on the table. He exchanged what he held for the last item, the receiver unit. "Did you kill him?" "No." Campbell paused, "He was another associate of mine and Nathan's." The investigator looked thoughtful for a moment. "You'll undoubtedly check my story with Theroux. If you could tell him that David is dead and the LKL is loose." He extracted a third chip. "He'll understand." Quickly substituting the three new circuits into the control board and began reassembling the PPG. Realisation dawned on Weiss. "You're making a `hot-shot'! Are you crazy?" The investigator just nodded. In answer to what Weiss couldn't decide. "Are you aware that those things explode when fired, three times in five?" "Yes." answered Campbell, reinserting the charge, "And if I'm lucky I'll be one of the sixty percent!" ------------------------------------- [1] Polymerase Chain Reaction - a method of amplifying trace amounts of DNA. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- From dmb@any.isis.rl.ac.ukSun Mar 17 21:46:03 1996 Date: Wed, 13 Mar 1996 12:44:00 GMT From: Devious Brownies Reply to: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: That Guard Our Native Seas - Part 10. "That Guard Our Native Seas." ----------------------------- Chapter 19. Patricia sipped her `tea' tentatively, its strong herbal taste was unfamiliar but, she decided, not unpleasant. And the ambassador had insisted that she stay a while and talk. She observed the strange Minbari discretely while the ambassador fussed over the restored plant. She thought Delenn gentle, and at peace, and envied her her serenity. she thought. "And you say that a metal was causing the ruin?" asked Delenn. "Yes, Zinc. It is a very rare Metal on Minbar, and unfortunately to the Menitana it makes a pretty good bleach." she broke off to look around the room again, "What I can't understand is where the Zinc came from. Dr. Franklin said that the Minbari would have taken measures to remove many impurities from their water, as a precaution." "We treat our water, that is true." Delenn corrected, "But the presence of Zinc would have induced no more than mild nausea or headaches in any case." Satisfied, she stopped her careful arrangement of the soil around the plant and sat down again opposite the lissom Earth-woman. Delenn was pleased to note that Patricia had finished her tea, something very few non-Minbari would have managed. She noticed the Earth-woman regarding the tiny brush she held with perplexity. "I was just reassuring the soil." she explained. "Sorry?" Patricia asked, if anything more confused that before. Delenn laughed. "It is part of a ceremony surrounding Menitana plants, a little ritual for Minbari children to perform. You see the belief goes that if the Menitana is at peace then where it grows will also become peaceful. So children are taught to speak to it only in whispers, and brush the soil until it is smooth and undisturbed. And in doing so they learn patience and tranquillity." "And with your children behaving the house DOES become more peaceful." noted Patricia with a smile. Delenn laughed, "I see you have understood perfectly. I am afraid I was a very unruly child and always misbehaved. But I adore Menitana and was always diligent in observing the ceremony. So I refuse to put away this childish thing and give solace to my plants still." "I think it is a fitting ceremony, for a beautiful plant." Patricia concluded. "I would have expected no less from a palora." Delenn favoured. "Mr. Lennier called me that as well, what does it mean?" "It is a title, an honorific for someone who cares for plants." "You mean a gardener." Patricia hazarded. "No." Delenn corrected, "It describes someone who cares ABOUT their plants as well as for them. Someone who has made it their vocation!" "On Earth we would say they had `green fingers'." commented Patricia. Delenn glanced down at the Earth-woman's hands. Patricia laughed, "Not literally Ambassador. It means someone is very good with plants!" "Yes," agreed Delenn, "that is very accurate description of a palora." She walked over to some shelves and took down a small glass ewer. She gazed at it fondly, running her fingers round the fragile patterns of the delicate glass-work. It always looked to her like a thousand white ribbons, frozen in time just a moment after being thrown from some child's hands. Patricia walked over to join her, "That's exquisite, Ambassador! Is it Minbari?" "No it is in fact from your world. A gift from the previous commander of this station, just before he left to be Earth's ambassador to Minbar. Of course the gift and his appointment are completely unrelated." Delenn remarked, then looked conspiratorial for moment, "Though I understand that this was VERY expensive. Now I use it in the ceremony, I fill it with water and then let it stand until all is completely still before watering. And I use the time to think of him." "Ambassador," Patricia commented carefully, "Are you aware that unless specially prepared, Earth glass contains trace impurities of Zinc, Manganese and other minerals? And that these would leech into the water over time?" Delenn was crest-fallen. In a broken voice she whispered, "No." With an unsteady hand she made to replace the ewer on its shelf. Patricia caught her arm and held it lightly. Delenn read the compassion, the understanding, in her eyes. "There might be a way, Ambassador." Patricia assured her, "The glass it's made from is very thin. The impurities may be removable with a solvent treatment. It would be best if you ask a hydroponicist, they would know more about mineral-free glasses." Delenn smiled brightly, "I shall do as you suggest. And now I am in your debt for TWO of my most treasured possessions. I insist you tell me if there is anything I can do for YOU!" Patricia stared at the ambassador, uncomfortable. The battle inside her, her indecision, was plain in her eyes. She cast her attention to the floor. Delenn saw her lips tremble. Finally, in hushed tones, she said, "Tura mini sacni. Mi trina!"[1] Delenn stared, her face frozen in surprise. Chapter 20. Campbell found Garibaldi waiting for him as he stepped out of the transport tube. He checked his watch and found he'd run over the time he had allotted with Garibaldi. "Sorry." Campbell apologised, "I found I had to shop for some essentials." The security chief was unimpressed. "Save it for the captain. He's waiting in his office for your briefing." He started down the corridor. After a moment's hesitation, Campbell hurried after him. "I don't really see the necessity of briefing Captain Sheridan. This is a law enforcement matter not a military operation!" "You don't get it do you?" queried Garibaldi, "After today's fiasco he's ALREADY involved!" Campbell shrugged, "It wasn't me who found a dead `Vorlon'. Anyway, now everything's blown over we can carry on as before." "What, until the NEXT time?" Garibaldi shook his head, "As far as a lot of people are concerned you've had your chance. If you turn up and take a whiz in someone else's pool, don't expect to be welcomed back there with open arms!" "Okay, I get the message!" Campbell assented, Garibaldi threw him a `do you?' look, "I'll be sure and `whiz' more carefully next time." Garibaldi stopped. "We're here." he said, and rang for attention. The door opened noiselessly, and just as quietly closed behind them. Captain Sheridan stood up from behind his desk. "Investigator Campbell? Hi, I'm Captain John Sheridan. Welcome to Babylon five." He held out a hand. "Good afternoon Captain Sheridan." Campbell sounded flatly. He ignored the proffered hand until the captain self-consciously withdrew it. "Mr. Garibaldi is of the opinion that due to some unfortunate circumstances that have arisen in this case, it would be best if you were included in this briefing. I have followed his lead in this but wish to remind you before we start that this I have sole jurisdiction in this matter." The captain regarded Campbell coldly. "So noted!" The investigator drew a small data-pad from his coat pocket and activated it with his thumb. It projected a picture of a youngish woman, with long brunette hair. Her face was elegant, almost sculptured. A ripple of distortion passed through the picture making her appear to scowl. Campbell placed the card on Sheridan's desk. "This is Joanne Mariner, born on Earth in New Jersey in 2209, lived most of her life in the south of England. She is believed to have fled to Babylon five sometime in the last forty-eight hours, after a Night-watch operative identified her as the head of Home Guard." "What!" shouted Garibaldi and Sheridan together. Sheridan cut in first. "You mean we've had the Home Guard wandering around a station inhabited by over a hundred thousand aliens for two days and you've said nothing!" "It's probably nearer a day, day and a half." Campbell corrected. "Why weren't we told immediately?" Sheridan demanded. "Earth-dome wants her recovered quietly. I was sent to bring her in with NO publicity. If her capture and trial became a media-circus there's a good chance public opinion might be swayed the wrong way. People are going to see this as `big, bad bureaucracy' coming down hard on an attractive woman for the crime of wanting to put human interests first. If this one gets out my next job'll be playing myself in the film of the book of the trial." Garibaldi cut in, "Yeah, but that doesn't explain why you've been dragging your feet since you got here!" Campbell shrugged. "So I don't work the way you do, Mr. Garibaldi. I never got a chance to brief you before dead Vorlon started turning up. Given who I was looking for I thought it warranted some investigation while any trail was still fresh. After all, Mariner could be here on some `blaze of glory' mission." "And you were intending to follow all this up on your own!" objected Sheridan hotly. "I hoped Mr. Garibaldi and a few select officers would help. And if I'm trying to keep things quiet the last thing I'd do is involve the military." Sheridan seethed, though Campbell apparently failed to notice. "Also, everyone here is a possible sympathiser. I decided not to inform anyone I thought was not worth the risk of telling, as I have the authority to do." Garibaldi dived in hurriedly. "I'll make sure all security personnel know to look out for this woman." Campbell opened his mouth to protest but Garibaldi overrode him. "You may not know my people, Mr. Campbell, but I do! And I trust them!" He turned off the data-pad and pocketed it. "I'll catch you up, okay?" he commented to Campbell, "I've just got a couple of routine matters to discuss with the captain." Campbell looked disdainful at the lie, but left wordlessly. "Of all the arrogant..." Sheridan started. Garibaldi interrupted, "Yeah, he's all that and more. Look Captain, this Mariner woman wasn't involved in the killing on Grey-17. Doctor Hernandez says the only people in that room were both male. On top of that the guy's name is David Took, and he's an old war buddy of Campbell's." "That COULD be just a coincidence!" Sheridan countered. "Not when there were only four survivors from the ship they served on. And if it is just chance, why didn't Campbell identify him? And there's something else," Sheridan just nodded for Garibaldi to go on. "Hernandez also said that Took probably knew his killer!" Sheridan winced, "I don't like what I'm hearing!" Garibaldi nodded, "Yeah, it's beginning to look like Ivanova had the right idea all along!" ------------------------------------- [1] "Give me sanctuary. I beg of you!" I'm afraid I don't speak Minbari so I've substituted ancient Etruscan instead. Actually I don't know very much Etruscan either so apologies to any archaeologists reading this if I've got the grammar wrong. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- From dmb@any.isis.rl.ac.ukSun Mar 17 21:46:05 1996 Date: Tue, 12 Mar 1996 19:42:42 GMT From: Devious Brownies Reply to: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: That Guard Our Native Seas - Part 11. "That Guard Our Native Seas." ----------------------------- Chapter 21. Campbell was waiting for Garibaldi outside the captain's office. "Well that went as well as could be expected." the investigator remarked. "You'd just better pray you never need a favour off him!" replied the security chief, letting the matter drop. he thought. "Look I might understand your attitude back there if you two had met before, but you don't even know the guy! So why bug him?" "I know OF him. He's the man who destroyed the Black Star." Campbell said with obvious bitterness. "Well that's a hell of a reason if you were a Minbari but your not. Give!" "He lured one of their battleships into an area he'd seeded with mines using a fake distress call." explained Campbell, Garibaldi just shrugged. "So how do you imagine Sheridan got his hands on the Minbari distress codes?" Garibaldi started. "Oh boy!" "When the Minbari figured out what had happened they changed all their codes prematurely. Overnight our intelligence output went to zero. And in the two weeks it took us to re-crack their codes we lost the Mary Chance, the Kohl, and the troop-ship Pleiades Star. One jug-head commander goes glory-hunting and over a thousand people suffer. Hell, maybe if he'd killed a couple of thousand more he would have made major!" "So you've got some ten year old beef with the captain." Garibaldi rebuked, "Well you'd better get your head together in the here and now pal, because if you don't start working WITH people you'll get nowhere fast on THIS station!" "It's just he's so..." Campbell laboured for the right word. "He's just... so!" Garibaldi waited, finally Campbell caved. "All right already! I'll be nice to your captain, just as long as I can keep my fingers crossed." Campbell rubbed his stomach absently, "Can I buy you lunch?" "The canteen's that way." Garibaldi gestured, "Me? I'm going to start about finding this Joanne Mariner." He strode off, feeling Campbell's eyes on his back till he turned the corner. ---===***===--- Rachel Walden sat on the edge of the console with her arms crossed and tried hard to keep the smirk inside her. Chalmers had pulled his now obligatory schmooze on her, with the usual lack of results. His task wasn't being made any easier by having Lou Welch stood behind him shouting `strike' every time she blew off one of his lines. He had just made a third futile attempt at a date. "Steeerike three! You're OUT!" yelled Lou. Chalmers turned on him. "Have a heart Lou! I thought you'd be on my side?" Welch put on a straight face. "The umpire is strictly impartial." he corrected. Rachel lost her private war and collapsed into a fit of giggles. Garibaldi stomped in and threw a data-card onto his desk. "Party's over people." he asserted. The officers straightened themselves out and gathered round their chief. "It's time for another game of `Chinese whispers'. I want you to pass this on to all the security personnel you meet, but keep it quiet and tell no one else!" He activated the data-pad and waited as the image rebuilt itself in the air. "I want everyone to look out for this woman, I'll get some hard-copies of this picture to pass around as soon as I can. If you see her, keep your distance and call me!" Paul Chalmers broke in, "Mrs. Campbell's all right isn't she Chief?" Garibaldi stared. "What!?" he barked. "Patricia Campbell." Chalmers indicated the hologram. "She IS okay, right?" "This woman is Joanne Mariner. She's the head of Home Guard!" Garibaldi corrected firmly, "Now WHERE did you see her?" "Uh-oh!" murmured Chalmers, "Uh, sir? I think she's in one of the med- labs with Dr. Franklin." Garibaldi let slip a tight oath. "Walden? You and Chalmers get down to Med-bay as fast as you can and find Franklin. If Mariner's still there, isolate her fast. Failing that get everyone out and back-off! The last thing we need is a shoot-out with a stone killer in a room full of poisons!" The two guards left at a run. The security chief hit is link. "Garibaldi to Captain Sheridan." "This is Sheridan. What's up Mr. Garibaldi?" came the reply. "Mariner is definitely on the station Captain. She was last seen WORKING in one of the med-labs! And that's not all," Garibaldi paused, "She's here under the name of Mrs. Patricia Campbell! What makes me think that this is NOT a coincidence" The captain's voice came back sounding decidedly strained. "Keep me informed. Sheridan out." Garibaldi turned to Welch. "Lou? I've got a little job for you." Chapter 22. "Patricia? No she finished up here about thirty minutes ago." Franklin answered, "Why?" "Finished up what, Doctor?" Walden asked. The doctor started and looked over at Chalmers. The officer was studiously looking elsewhere. "She finished tending to Ambassador Delenn's plant. I'm delighted to say it's going to make a full recovery. Look what's this all about?" Rachel persisted, "Do you have any idea where she went?" "I'm not saying another word until someone tells me what is going on!" replied Franklin stubbornly. Chalmers coughed. "Patricia Campbell, AKA Joanne Mariner, is Home Guard, Doctor!" A thought occurred to him. "Could she have taken something out of here, a poison perhaps?" "Don't be ridiculous!" Franklin snorted, "Look, there's obviously been a mistake. I spent the past four hours with Patricia and she isn't the Home Guard type." "I'll put you down as a character witness." Walden snapped, "NOW, where did she go?" "She left with Lennier to return the plant to the ambassador." Walden slapped down hard on her link, "Garibaldi!" "Garibaldi here!" came the chief's voice. "Sir, this is Walden! Mariner left thirty minutes ago to visit the Minbari ambassador! She must be already there by now! Sir, she has been working for Mr. Lennier, he must have got he past security." "Get down there now, I'll join you soon as I can! Garibaldi out." ---===***===--- Lennier was running, hard. The burning shame inside him drove him to ever greater efforts. Unseen outside the med-lab he had overheard part of the conversation. he told himself. Unbidden a prayer to Valen leapt into his mind. He pushed it aside not wishing to shatter his concentration. his mind wept, He redoubled his efforts. The rushing walls seemed to blur, and then fade. Anything that did not move him closer to his destination became unimportant, then unseen. He tried to condense his thoughts to `the singularity'. To unbecome anything but a purpose seeking its goal. To exist as a will to do, not to be. He fought the disquiet in his own head. Wild thoughts and images tried to pull and deflect his mind. Delenn's eyes filled with grief and incomprehension and shame, her forehead branded with the male-female symbol. He faltered. The ambassador's body, broken and pathetic, her dead eyes staring, accusing, her blood staining the floor to the colour of his soul. He missed a step. Again the prayer was forced into his thoughts. He accepted it as a mantra for his steps. "Father of the nine, Who waits in the Well of Souls, Who, as you welcome the great souls, Also welcome the lesser. Draw on your wisdom, and guide this soul. Let your will be its purpose, Let it aid you in your endeavours." A door loomed up in Lennier's path and momentarily he despaired before he realised that he had reached the ambassador's room. His breath laboured with exertion and trepidation, as he activated the entrance mechanism. Inside Delenn and the Earth-woman stood facing each other barely three feet apart. Lennier noticed that the ambassador looked disturbed, even shocked. He reached focus, and instinctively leapt off his leading foot, pirouetting in the air to strike at Delenn's opponent. The blow flashed through empty air and Lennier only just managed to keep his balance on landing. He turned just in time to see Patricia complete her backwards roll and regain her feet alert and on her guard. He used the extra distance to interpose himself between her and the ambassador, "Stay away from Delenn!" he warned. Silently he added, He felt Delenn's hand on his shoulder, a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "It is all right Lennier, she is no threat to us!" "But Ambassador!" he protested. "Shhh!" Delenn admonished, stepping round him. The frail Minbari nodded to the human, who immediately dropped her guard. "I think I can explain!" started Patricia. ---===***===--- Garibaldi's hand hovered over his link. If he didn't tell the captain, and Sheridan found out his career he was over. he thought. That decided him. He activated his link. "Blue-7 canteen." A chirpy voice answered "Blue-7 Food-a-rama, can I help you?" "This is Security Chief Garibaldi. Tell me you have a man there, tall dark, unshaven. Looks a bit like a lurker only cleaner." "Yes I think I can see someone of that description, shall I get him for you sir?" "No." Garibaldi dissented, "Just tell him that Mariner is holed up in the Minbari ambassador's quarters and he's go haul his ass down there, stat!" "Ass... haul... will do!" came the reply, "Have a n..." Garibaldi cut the connection quickly. He clipped on his PPG. "No way is this going in my diary as a `nice day'!" he snorted. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- From dmb@any.isis.rl.ac.ukSun Mar 17 21:46:10 1996 Date: Wed, 13 Mar 1996 16:17:27 GMT From: Devious Brownies Reply to: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: That Guard Our Native Seas - Part 12. "That Guard Our Native Seas." ----------------------------- Chapter 23. Campbell strolled round down the corridor. Not going too fast in case he missed a turn in following the guard's directions. As he turned a corner he came across a small assembly of security guards surrounding a diminutive Minbari. The Minbari, though outnumbered, was steadfastly obstructing access to a door. The investigator concluded that he'd arrived. "Ambassador Delenn wishes not to be disturbed." insisted the Minbari. Garibaldi fumed. "Yeah? Well I should think she'll find an assassination attempt pretty disturbing." he snapped, "And that's what'll happen if you don't let us through." Lennier looked shocked. "I would not think to hinder you if the ambassador was in any danger." he objected, "But I can assure you that Ambassador Delenn is quite safe and has merely requested some privacy." "Well I'd rather check on that myself!" "But how would you check on her privacy without destroying it?" queried Lennier. The security chief sighed in exasperation. There was a cough from behind him. Campbell was stood there, waiting patiently. "May I?" he asked. Garibaldi waved him through. He produced his ID and handed it to the Minbari. "My name is Timothy Campbell and I am a special investigator from Earth." he began, "If it would not form an intrusion I would ask you to pass on a question to the ambassador." Lennier bowed. "I will be happy to do so at the earliest moment." "Would you ask her, `Icham mina lautun?'"[1] Garibaldi started. he thought, then mentally slapped himself, The door behind Lennier opened, and Delenn emerged. The security chief noticed that she was careful to let the door close behind her. "I heard your question, Investigator." the Ambassador noted, "`Lautun'?" "Anam mina ativu."[2] "I see." commented Delenn, "Then the answer to your question is `Acnu sval Minbari ratum.'"[3] "An alpnu sala menitu?"[4] "Alpan!" replied the ambassador firmly. She turned and re-entered her apartment. Lennier resumed his position in front of the door. Campbell turned to Garibaldi. "There's nothing for us here." he commented, "The ambassador is evidently not her target." The security chief remained unconvinced, "You expect me to believe it was a social call?" The investigator deliberated a moment. "It could easily be a diversion. If we were to think that the ambassadors were threatened, and tightened our security here. Then perhaps security around the real target would be weakened." "Real target?" questioned Garibaldi. "If it's not the ambassadors," commented Campbell carefully, "then maybe it's the station itself." He regarded Garibaldi coolly. "Perhaps we ought to start thinking about sabotage." "Start informing all category three or higher installations to be extra alert, Walden will help you." Garibaldi instructed, "And get reinforcements to all category one sites. Chalmers, with me." Garibaldi started off in the opposite direction to the investigator, then pulled up short after a short way to activate his link. "Computer, access Minbari dictionary, search for `lautun'." After a pause the computer responded. "`Lautun'; Minbari word for `family'." Garibaldi thought, He turned on Chalmers. "Okay, HOW did she get clearance to a med-bay?" The guard gulped. "Me, sir." he admitted, "I talked Dr. Franklin into it." "We'll discuss that later." snarled the chief, "Right now I want to know how you know her!" "We hit it off... that is I hit on her when I checked her through from the New Orianna. That must have been just about the time Ambassador Kosh returned." Garibaldi's eyes narrowed, "Kosh hasn't been off the station in days!" "But you can ask Lou," Chalmers protested, "He saw him too!" "I'm sure it looked like the ambassador. But I'd bet my favou... SECOND favourite thing in the universe that it was no Vorlon in that suit!" Garibaldi mused a moment. "Campbell is probably in my office, so we'll have to use C&C." He gestured to Chalmers. "Come on. It looks like you're going to get a second chance." Chapter 24. Chalmers couldn't shake the feeling that the commander was just waiting for a nod from the chief to throttle him. She had greeted the news that there were TWO Campbells on the ship with an icy rage. Paul could well imagine that rage directed at him. "But that's not why we're here." added Garibaldi, "Right after Chalmers checked HER through he says he saw the Vorlon ambassador in arrivals." Ivanova favoured the young officer with a frigid glance. "But odds are that was our corpse from Grey-17." the security chief continued. To Paul's relief, the commander turned to her console. "Computer replay the camera recordings from the arrival bay for the New Orianna." The console screen lit up with a replay of the events of that morning. Chalmers was momentarily thrown by the unusual viewing angle, and again when he recognised the back of his own head. Garibaldi cut in. "Correlate recordings against the immigration logs. Forward to the time-stamp on the entry for Patricia Campbell." The images flickered briefly then settled to a wordless replay of his initial meeting with the Home Guard woman. As the easy banter between Lou and himself unfolded, punctuated by aberrant attempts at intimacy towards the woman, Chalmers grew increasingly uncomfortable under the occasional glances Ivanova directed his way. Garibaldi broke the tension. "Woah!" "What is it?" asked Ivanova. "Watch this." the chief remarked, rewinding the image a short way. On the screen a short business man stepped up towards Chalmers. After a brief exchange he thrust forward a hand, spilling its contents on the floor. From the angle of the camera it could be clearly seen than his thumb had deliberately flicked the flimsies forward. At that same moment, what appeared to be a Vorlon stepped through the gate from where the New Orianna was berthed. Silently the recording showed Paul step back, and the `Vorlon' blithely step through the gap created and walk swiftly away. The encounter suit swayed briefly before vanishing from the field of view. Garibaldi turned to Chalmers. "Well Paul, it looks like you were the victim of a very smooth piece of misdirection. One man distracts the guard to let his accomplice slip through the gate. Once through, the guy just acts all enigmatic and everyone mistakes him for the real Ambassador Kosh." He turned back to the console, "Identify the man checking in from immigration logs." "Individual is registered as Simeon Marrick, born on Thursday, 7th. July, 2214 at Wisconsin General Hospital, Earth. Occupation listed as independent trader. "Looks like we've got a lead." he addressed Chalmers, "Find him and bring him in." Ivanova was still looking at the screen. The final seconds replayed over and over. Finally she turned to Garibaldi. "Why did he sway like that?" Chalmers answered, "The ambassador, that is the man in the suit, staggered a bit as he walked away. I remember Lou asking him if he was okay." Ivanova looked from one man to the other. "That suit was made of lightweight plastics. It could only have been a few pounds. Whoever came through in that thing must have been carrying something pretty heavy underneath." "Then maybe Campbell is right." Garibaldi mused, "Maybe there IS a bomb on board." "We should also consider that if there is a plot to sabotage Babylon five then Campbell is probably involved!" Ivanova remarked. ---===***===--- Patricia Campbell scrutinised herself in the mirror. It felt like a stranger staring back at her and she was fleetingly dejected at the loss of her hair. She shook off the self-pity. she thought, She laughed at the reflection, stared it haughtily in the eye. "Je ne regrette rien!" She had just finished stripping of her outer clothing when she heard a series of soft clicks from behind her. She turned to find Lennier stood uncomfortably beside her, she realised the sounds had been him politely drawing her attention. "I've finished carving your `bone'." he stated. The material felt quite unlike bone against her head. It was soft and pliable, and had a velvety feel to it. Though not tacky it appeared to have a natural adhesiveness to it that held it to her skin quite firmly. "How do I look?" Patricia queried. "It is unlikely to fool a Minbari," Lennier noted, "but if you are careful few others will give you a second glance." The modest Minbari cocked his head to one side. "Personally, I think it rather suits you." he added. "Thanks, that makes me feel better. Though I doubt you mean it." "Minbari do not lie." replied Lennier solemnly. "Not even when the truth would cause offence for no reason?" asked Patricia mischievously. Lennier smiled, but declined to answer her. She picked up the heavy robe Delenn had obtained for her. "These clothes don't resemble yours." she noted. "No. Priestly robes would be too light. You are not..." the aide floundered for the word, "SHAPED much like Minbari. This is the dress of our warrior caste. Under the robe, armour and cloak it will not be obvious you are `well stacked'." Patricia burst out laughing. "Is that not the right phrase? I was most careful to note how Mr. Garibaldi applied it." "No, you applied it just fine." Patricia reassured, "But I wouldn't recommend you use say it to too many women directly." "I thought you world did not have separate languages for each gender." "Don't you believe it!" chortled Patricia. She quickly finished dressing, and pulled the hood of the cloak over her head to further disguise her. When she and the small Minbari re-entered the room she found that Delenn had been joined by another Minbari dressed like she was. The Minbari glanced casually at her, then looked at her again, his eyes narrowed. "This is Aylit Corsal of the transport `Scapri'." the ambassador introduced, "His ship leaves to take mail and diplomatic traffic to Minbar within the hour." "THIS is your `special passenger'? She is a human!" the captain shouted, "How dare you mock my caste by dressing this animal as a warrior!" "The deception is necessary to enable her to pass off this station." answered Delenn, "This is also why I asked you bring a female crew-member's identification." "I will not have this creature on my ship." snapped the captain. He gazed levelly at Delenn, "You are not Satai now, Ambassador, your orders alone are not reason enough for me to suffer this insult!" Patricia saw Delenn recoil in shock at the affront. She grew angry at the offhand treatment of someone who had helped her so much. Before anyone could think to stop her she crossed the distance to the captain in half a dozen strides. He was not much taller than her and she put her self `in his face' as much as possible. "How about this for a reason, Minbari." she spat at him, "I am Home Guard, the group that has attacked many Minbari. In fact I am the LEADER of Home Guard! She has offered you the chance to bring me to Minbar, make me subject to Minbari justice. And you have not the courage to do more than bleat about `honour'!" Taught muscles moved under the skin on the Corsal's face as mastered his fury, "And why should you WISH to be tried on Minbar." he inquired. Patricia smiled, "Because your judgements are so much softer than Earth's." The captain's fury gave way to amusement. "My apologies Ambassador, I can see now how right you were." He handed her card of unfamiliar design. "You're identification." he explained, then went on, "Oh, and human? Say nothing more to me for the duration of this journey. My good humour is very thin." He walked to the door and waited. Delenn walked over to her. "An unusual tactic." she commented. Patricia shrugged. "The worst outcome was that he wouldn't take me. And that was where I stood anyway. But I think it was his rudeness to you that got to me." "On arrival at Minbar you will be arraigned to decide on what charges you are to be tried. Give them this," the ambassador handed Patricia a data crystal, "and tell them what you told Lennier and I. I wish you good luck." Patricia bowed and turned toward the impatient captain. Taking position a pace behind him as he left the room, she threw one last look over her shoulder. But the door had already closed. ------------------------------------- [1] How fares my family? [2] She is my mother. [3] She has asked to live under Minbari law. [4] She willingly makes this offer? --------------------------------------------------------------------------- From dmb@any.isis.rl.ac.ukSun Mar 17 21:46:12 1996 Date: Thu, 14 Mar 1996 09:20:47 GMT From: Devious Brownies Reply to: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: That Guard Our Native Seas - Part 13. "That Guard Our Native Seas." ----------------------------- Chapter 25. Campbell stepped carefully through the Bazaar on his way back Grey- 17. With the woman officer's help the organisation of `search and secure' parties for the station's sensitive installations had been a trivial task. Walden had seemed relieved when he suggested she join one if the teams. Campbell too was allayed, he had half suspected Garibaldi of landing him with a chaperone. Just as he was leaving the mall, and despite his care, he found himself colliding with a shopper who was hurrying with her bargains. She fell heavily to the ground. Concerned, Campbell stooped to help her up. It was Nalier. "Take me to a table!" the slender Minbari hissed urgently. "I'm terribly sorry!" apologised Campbell, "Here, you'd better sit down." He recovered her purchases and gently escorted her to a cafe table. He ordered a refreshment for her from the table console. One hand demurely at her throat she made a show of accepting his hospitality. "I have two messages." she remarked levelly with smile and bow, as if she were merely acknowledging an apology. "Marrick was seen purchasing a storage hold of scrap metal under an alias, SH-3 on Red-22. And he was last reported in the company of two Narn in the ambassadorial wing." A waitress approached with the drink Campbell had ordered. "I ordered you a Nacine tea, I'm sorry if that was presumptuous of me." he covered. "I can only commend your appreciation of our cuisine." Nalier dissembled as the investigator payer the waiting hostess. Once she was gone Nalier continued without changing expression. "The other message is from Nathan Theroux." she murmured, "We appraised him of what has happened and the steps you are taking, and he has asked us to pass on this message. He is sorry about David, he'll miss him. And he promises to make sure Christi understands that you had to do this." "Thank you. Now if you are well, I'll be on my way." Campbell stood. Nalier called him back. "Human," she questioned, "how did you know I was in the room?" "There was an unfamiliar scent in the air." the investigator explained, "Once I had determined that it was not coming from Mr. Weiss I concluded that there must be another source." The Minbari woman tensed and for a brief moment her visage slipped. "Are you saying I smell?" she asked with a quiet passion. "I'm saying you smell NICE." contradicted Campbell, "I only noticed the fragrance because I found it pleasant." As he walked back through the crowd Nalier sniffed at her wrist discretely, but could smell nothing. She looked suspiciously after the departing Earth-man. ---===***===--- Patricia matched the pace of the silent warrior in front of her step for step. If he was surprised at her stamina he had not shown it. For her part Patricia was determined not to lose this war of attrition. Over the captain's right shoulder she saw a group of four, no five, young Centauri males joking and slapping each other boisterously. Some held bottles and she suspected that they had been celebrating the `renaissance' of their republic. One of them noticed the pair of them and hastily alerted the others. Concerned, Patricia drew level to the aylit. One of them called out to them. "Hey Minbari, drink with us eh? And bring your woman!" Corsal ignored them, his pace never altering. "Too proud for us eh?" called another, "Too MIGHTY to drink with us animal Centauri." This too elicited no response. One of the group made a snatch for the aylit's cloak as he passed. He managed to pluck it out of their reach without showing any effort was involved. The first youth to speak followed after them. "Maybe we find out just how mighty the Minbari are, yes?" he taunted, "Maybe after we finish with the Narn we come after you?" The whole group skipped down the passage after him, cheering him on. "Don't worry Minbari," he reassured, "You'll get your chance to surrender. After all it's what you're good at!" Corsal turned with a roar and threw his tormentor to the wall. The others stepped back hurriedly as he moved to pursue them. Patricia saw movement to her left. The first Centauri had regained his feet and was drawing a wicked looking knife. As he lunged at the unsuspecting aylit, she stepped forward, her hand flashing out to enclose his wrist. Fleetingly she was stumped by the lack of vulnerable tendons under her fingers, she settled for crushing his wrist bones together. The knife dropped with a clatter. The Minbari warrior turned at the sound in time to see Patricia kick the weapon away and crack the young male by his wrist like a whip. His second collision with the wall was much more solid and this time he stayed down. The other Centauri took advantage of his distraction to charge and Corsal braced himself for their combined impact. A grey blur flickered at the periphery of his vision and one of the charging youths fell aside his knees buckled under him. The aylit realised that the Earth-woman was stood again at his side, and it was her kick that had evened the odds. He swung his left shoulder forward and distributed the blow of two of the remaining assailants through the mass of his upper arm and torso to his firmly planted back foot. The unprepared Centauri found themselves hurled backwards as if they had run into a wall. He spared a glance towards Patricia, watched her block a backhanded chop with her left arm, spin, and plant her right elbow solidly into the soft area exposed beneath. Her opponent fell in a hail of high-pitched squeals. Turning back he took a pace towards the breathless Centauri. They back-peddled hastily and at a safe distance scrambled to their feet and ran. He regarded the remaining attackers; one unconscious, one gripping his knees and the last holding his sides and moaning quietly. He stepped over the agonised youth and addressed the disguised Earth-woman, "You fight well." "Of course," Patricia replied, "I trained to fight you!" Corsal smiled, "Yet now you fight with me, I am intrigued. We will talk more aboard my ship." He glanced back at the still crying youth. "Were you aware that a Centauri male's genitals are located down the sides of his torso?" he queried. Patricia's smile was all the answer he needed. Chapter 26. Chalmers pocketed the blow-up of Marrick from the camera film. He'd now checked with all security personnel who had done a stint on departures in the past day and drawn a blank. Either Marrick was still on the station or he'd slipped away, just another face amongst thousands. If he got nothing from the traders in the Zocalo or the Bazaar he'd face to face the chief with zip. Somehow he didn't relish that eventuality. He glanced up to see two Minbari, male and female, approaching the gate. "Thanks Sean," he told the guard, "keep an eye open okay?" He stepped aside for the pair to pass, Sean Hamilton checked and logged their ident-cards. As they moved off the female looked up, briefly she stared through him, disinterested, almost oblivious to his presence. Chalmers smiled politely but she looked away. Something troubled him, nagged at him as he walked away. The alien woman had been very pretty, with much finer features that other Minbari Paul had met. The eyes had been softer too, making the face very reminiscent of Ambassador Delenn's. thought Chalmers as he wandered away, "Mother of God!" he cried in hushed tones. Turning, he sprinted back to the gate. ---===***===--- Garibaldi's link sounded in the quiet of his office, he hit it smartly. "Lou?" he asked. "Sir? It's Chalmers. I've just seen Patricia Campbell leaving through gate 9!" "What!? Well stop her damn it!" exclaimed Garibaldi. "Sir, there's something not quite right. She left disguised as a Minbari, using Minbari ID and was with another Minbari, an Aylit Corsal." Garibaldi's interest conquered his anger. "What do we know about this Corsal?" "He's a diplomatic courier, Chief. And captain of the Minbari transport `Scapri'." Chalmers paused, "Sir, I don't think she was being coerced into boarding. It doesn't add up, Chief." "No, it doesn't." Garibaldi agreed, "And we can hardly detain a diplomatic ship and demand an explanation." "Sir if she's Home Guard then I'll sweep out the latrines in the alien sector for a month!" Chalmers protested. "Strange," the chief commented, "I had you down to do that anyway!" He broke the connection. Immediately his link sounded again. "This had better be you, Lou!" he warned. "Yes Chief." came Welch's voice, "I've got an update on Campbell." "Shoot." "He just had a run in with a Minbari woman, and I mean a run in! He knocked he off her feet in the Bazaar and had to sit her down with a drink to make sure she was all right." "Sounds like an accident." Garibaldi commented. "That's what I thought sir. Except when he left, he set off in the opposite direction to before. He's now entered the rented storage section of the Red-20's." "Another Campbell, and ANOTHER Minbari." muttered the disgruntled security officer. "Sorry Chief?" Welch asked. "I'll fill you in when I get down there! Keep him in sight, I'll be with you in a minute." Garibaldi was already half way through the door. ---===***===--- Campbell let the door of the hold shut behind him and waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. He found a metal spar and propped it against the door's edge, then turned back to the gloom. He cast an apprehensive look around the bay. Piles of twisted and darkened metals towered to the ceiling, waiting to be recycled. Here and there smaller piles of shattered plastic and broken cards glistened, displaying their meagre treasures of rare metals and salvageable components. Campbell thought to himself. He took a step forward, then froze. Listening hard he took another. The tiny sound intruded again. A light, crisp noise like a spoon in a sugar bowl. The investigator squatted down and fished in his pockets. He carefully set the torch to its lowest intensity setting before he lit it. He inspected the area at his feet, puzzled at its pearlescent sheen. He touched the surface gingerly with his fingertips, to find that they too now sparkled softly. he smiled, He crouched lower and aimed the insipid illumination along the length of the floor. Very barely, a series of darker patches appeared. Footprints revealed where the weight of a passer-by had crushed the tiny crystals. While most appeared to skirt the edges of the room one took off towards one of the smaller piles. On a hunch, Campbell followed. Sure enough the footprints resumed on the other side. Only one visitor had actually stepped over the debris towards the centre of the hold. Campbell smiled. "Gotcha!" he whispered. It took nearly ten minutes of careful tracking for Campbell to reach the terminus of the barely discernible trail. A tarpaulin shapelessly covered a squat object that lay discretely amongst the litter. The investigator took a deep breath and pulled the tarp away. It was there, grey and shiny, with the gloss finish only newly manufactured metal possesses. The Earth-Alliance logo was displayed prominently down one side, and the letters `LKL-1' were stencilled down the other. A small sheaf of folded paper half projected from a plastic pocket on the top surface. Campbell started as a hollow ring sounded mutedly behind him, someone else had opened the door to the hanger and caused the pipe to drop. He gathered up the dust sheet and retreated further into the cover of the dark. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- From dmb@any.isis.rl.ac.ukSun Mar 17 21:46:14 1996 Date: Thu, 14 Mar 1996 10:18:09 GMT From: Devious Brownies Reply to: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: That Guard Our Native Seas - Part 14. "That Guard Our Native Seas." ----------------------------- Chapter 27. Stooped in the doorway, Garibaldi inspected the fallen metal tube. He whispered to Welch, "The cunning bastard knows we're here. Circle round to the left and try and spot him." He drew his PPG. "And keep your back against a wall." "What do I do if I find him Chief?" Lou queried. "If you're exposed, nothing. If you've got cover, pin him down!" They split up, and Garibaldi angled right slowly, his gun covering every danger-zone as it was revealed. The crazy silhouettes of the junk- piles made him edgy, their broken outlines could easily conceal Campbell's. A dirty sheet half covered a pile of twisted machinery, Garibaldi stepped gingerly over it when a pale shine caught his attention. A box stood uncovered near a stack of shattered consoles, it's factory fresh appearance incongruous in the grubby surroundings. He took a step forward then froze as the familiar adamantine nose of a pistol pressed against the base of his spine. He heard a rustle behind him and Campbell's voice carried over his shoulder. "Guns make me nervous." Campbell remarked, "Especially other people's, so why don't you drop yours and kick it over there next to the box." Garibaldi complied with a sickened grunt. "And tell Officer Welch to do likewise." the investigator added, "Unless he's after a quick promotion that is." With a clatter another pistol joined Garibaldi's. Welch stepped out of the shadows opposite his superior. "Sorry Chief." he murmured. "Okay, over there next to Welch." Campbell dictated, with a slight shove of the gun for emphasis. Garibaldi sidled over to his deputy keeping his eyes open for any chance but the special investigator never made a slip. Campbell walked swiftly over to the enigmatic box. "There's no way out of here, Campbell." Garibaldi called. "Don't be stupid, there's ALWAYS a way out!" came the investigator's reply. "Are you going to tell us what that is?" the chief asked nodding at the discrepant apparatus next to Campbell. Campbell shrugged. "There's not really much point." "Because you're going to kill us." finished Garibaldi quietly. "Not quite, Mr. Garibaldi." Campbell dissented with a laugh. He rapidly swung the pistol round and targeted the box at his feet. With his eyes half closed he squeezed the trigger. As Garibaldi heard the PPG's whine ramp into the ultrasonic, confusion playing on his face. Then strangely he again became aware of the gun's sound. Though out of his hearing range the sheer intensity of it began to beat against his eardrum. "A hot-shot!" he shouted and dragged Lou to cover. He risked a look towards the investigator. A violent stream of plasma flared from the pistol's snub barrel, not as a ball but in a coruscating stream of blistering destruction. He realised what Campbell had meant about there always being a way out. The investigator expected to be leaving `feet first'. The little weapon was now red-hot and Garibaldi marvelled how Campbell still held it. Not just held it but played it back and forth, slagging down every inch of the mystery device. For three, maybe four seconds the gun discharged, then without warning the world was white. A wall of scorched air hit Garibaldi's face like a slap and beside him he heard Lou swear blasphemously. As his eyes recovered he saw Campbell's body complete the course the explosion had set for it and smash through a pile of waste metal to slump unmoving at the base of a wall. The two security officers got groggily to their feet. Unheeded behind them the door opened briefly. ---===***===--- G'Kar strode quickly down Red-22, the obnoxious human trailing after him like a broken kite. "Now wait a minute!" objected Marrick. "No device, no deal." the ambassador persisted. He turned a corner sharply and Marrick briefly walked the wrong way. G'Kar cursed silently as he caught him up again. Marrick wheezed, "We had an agreement Ambassador!" "I'm afraid our `agreement' has just gone up in smoke." replied G'Kar unkindly, "The Narn Regime will reclaim our money from the holding agent and go our way. And you can go... yours!" "You've got to get me off the station!" the human wheedled. "And why should we go to so much risk for you?" "What about the risk of them finding out YOUR involvement if I get caught?" Marrick threatened. He bounced off the unyielding Narn as the ambassador lurched to a halt. The Narn turned slowly to face Marrick. "I would not raise that point too strongly," G'Kar warned, "lest we find it prudent to still the wagging tongue!" A thought occurred to the thief. "What about the data I already gave you! That's got to be worth something!" G'Kar considered the matter. "Very well!" he pronounced, "In recognition of your SMALL service to Narn, I will ensure you are smuggled safely off this station and taken to Home-world. After that you are on your own!" He stalked off again. "Thanks a bundle!" Marrick sneered at the ambassador's retreating back. He cast one last look back to where all his dreams and ambitions lay fused to the deck, then started off after G'Kar. Chapter 28. No more pain, no more fear. Warmth, welcome, whiteness. Campbell stirred gently and opened his eyes. The whiteness changed, receded, became the sterile ceiling of an unfamiliar room. Sounds started to intrude, oddly familiar noises, which Campbell strained to recognise. "He's awake." someone said. Campbell didn't recognise the rich, low tones. A dark man he couldn't place leaned over him, "How do you feel?" "I'm alive." Campbell noted in a neutral voice. "Yes you are." agreed Franklin, "Due mainly, I might add, to my tremendous skill." "Shit." Campbell whispered. The doctor looked taken aback at this unexpected response. The investigator turned his head away. "I'm sorry Christi." he murmured softly, "I tried!" "Is he able to answer questions?" someone asked. Campbell recognised the voice as Garibaldi's and turned to find the source. Stood quietly to one side were Garibaldi, Sheridan, Ivanova and surprisingly Ambassador Delenn. "The inquiry should be `am I WILLING to answer them'." Campbell corrected, pulling himself to a seated position. He winced as his shoulders took the strain. Sheridan glared at him. "I'm only this far from throwing you out of an airlock myself, Campbell!" he barked. The investigator smiled, "An excellent idea! Shall we go?" The captain made to go for him until the Minbari stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "John, wait!" she cautioned. Sheridan watched the Earth investigator look from his face to the restraining hand to Delenn. Campbell's eyebrows twitched by the smallest fraction. The captain glanced at Delenn in time to see he respond with the barest of nods. he thought. Campbell appeared to deflate, "I think I owe you an apology, Captain." he started, "Given your record I had assumed you were part of it." "Part of what?" Ivanova queried. "Part of the `Lead Kindly Light' project." "I think you had better back up a bit." suggested Garibaldi, "What the hell is `Lead Kindly Light'?" "Okay." agreed Campbell, "You are no doubt aware that tachyon emissions aren't directional, so tachyon communications are effectively untraceable." A few heads nodded. "This means that all ships have to multiplex their broadcasts with a `telemetry information carrier', or TIC, which signals their position. Obviously military TICs are encrypted to prevent interception." "We know all this!" objected Sheridan. "Well it's wrong!" Campbell insisted, "Tachyon signals ARE directional, it's the receivers that aren't. Their static particle fields are randomly oriented so the transmissions are demodulated as coming from any direction. If you could build a receiver with a coherent field it would be able to pinpoint the precise direction of the transmitter. And if you knew the original signal strength you could determine its range. David Took did just that. He was the head of `Lead Kindly Light', a civilian project to produce directional tachyon scanners for search and rescue, navigation and survey work. The LKL could track ship movements, in and out of hyper- space, from here to Earth. Think of it, no ship need ever be lost to space again!" "But?" the security chief prompted. "But it wasn't a civilian project at all. It had been conceived and funded by a clandestine military group who had organised it through civilian front companies. They didn't want a navigational aid, they were after a `Bletchley in a box'. An automatic strategic intelligence gatherer that could be fitted to any ship larger that a fighter. They wanted the LKL badly, they NEEDED it in fact." "Why?" the commander asked. "For Earth verses the Minbari, the rematch." Campbell answered. The room fell quiet. He could see Sheridan's fury just bubbling under, though it didn't seem to be directed at him this time. The ambassador's eyes were wide with shock. The two junior officers just looked sick. "When David found out he came to see me, and I reassembled my old Bletchley team. Together we decided Took and the LKL had to disappear. "David was to steal the prototype from his own laboratory along with his notes. The lab was in my bailiwick so I was to ensure that I handled the case and then go slow enough to give him time to get away. He was to deliver himself and the prototype to Nathan Theroux, who had demobbed back to his home colony on Bethany. They were to make sure the LKL was available if REALLY needed. Christina Jansen now works for Pan Solar, she arranged for an incorrect roster to be sent for the New Orianna so that Took would have a better chance of slipping through in the confusion at the other end." "Which he did dressed as the Vorlon ambassador." remarked Ivanova, "So what went wrong?" "They had to bring in outside help to get from here to Bethany." Garibaldi replied, "The hired hand got greedy, popped Took, and left to sell the device to the highest bidder." Campbell nodded in confirmation. "Simeon Marrick. He was a Earth- force small transport captain in the EM war." he explained, "They used him to make priority one shipments to groups that had been cut off by enemy advances. The Bletchley was often used to help get him in and out so we thought he'd by trustworthy. I forgot how much time can change people." Campbell glanced at Sheridan and Delenn. "I've been doing that quite a bit lately!" "So what's all this business with Patricia Campbell?" Franklin interjected, "I mean Joanne Mariner." "Patricia Campbell is my mother." Campbell explained, "Her maiden name was Joanne Patricia Mariner. Somebody herded her to this station knowing I'd have to drop the break-in investigation and follow. Presumably they were organising their own cover-up in the mean time." "Then she's not really Home Guard!" Sheridan declared. "Oh yes." the investigator contradicted, "She was one of the people that founded the movement. I should know, I helped her!" --------------------------------------------------------------------------- From dmb@any.isis.rl.ac.ukSun Mar 17 21:46:15 1996 Date: Thu, 14 Mar 1996 11:54:45 GMT From: Devious Brownies Reply to: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: That Guard Our Native Seas - Part 15. "That Guard Our Native Seas." ----------------------------- Chapter 29. "What!" Sheridan roared, glaring icily at Campbell, "YOU'RE Home Guard?" "No, not really. I just helped arrange for them to get the supplies and training they needed to get set up, assisted them with their intelligence network, got them organised. That sort of thing." Campbell shrugged. "That's a hell of an admission to make in a room full of people who are looking for a nail to hang you from!" muttered Ivanova. Her antipathy was mirrored in many of the faces in the room. But not all, Delenn smiled at Campbell and silently encouraged him to continue. "After the Bletchley was destroyed I was invalided back to Earth as a trauma case. It was soon apparent that without our intelligence information the Minbari overmatched us with ease, ergo Earth was going to lose. Others had come to the same conclusion, they met, organised and started to recruit. With my and other's help the Home Guard became the nucleus of Earth's resistance movement. When the Minbari invaded they would have faced a well-armed, efficient and dedicated underground ready to harry the Minbari forces as they tried to entrench." The investigator smiled, "You should pay more attention to your history Captain. `Home Guard' was the name of the British volunteer army, made up of those people who hadn't gone to fight in the second world war." "But the Minbari never invaded." Garibaldi remarked. Campbell smiled sadly at the ambassador, "No, and without an obvious enemy to focus on other groups, with other agendas, started to influence the organisation. The original leadership was effectively side-lined, and my mother cut her ties to Home Guard over five years ago. It seems they didn't do likewise, not when she might be useful in the future as a convenient scapegoat." Sheridan signalled to his junior officers and they left silently. Delenn caught the mood and followed with a bow to Campbell. Franklin however hovered around Campbell prodding and scanning his dressings and making noises of satisfaction at the results. Sheridan coughed, as the doctor looked up Sheridan glanced from him to the door and back. Petulantly, Franklin scooped up his instruments and stalked off to find another victim. The captain approached Campbell. "Mr. Garibaldi told me what you said about the Black Star." he began, "I'm sorry, I didn't know." He looked away. "When the distress code passed through my office it was exactly what I'd been looking for. When I asked about it I was told that it was a chance interception, probably for security reasons, so I used it. I lost some good friends on the Mary Chance, now I feel like I as good as killed them!" "Everyone makes mistakes, Captain." Campbell replied, "Especially if they are badly informed. I think I've demonstrated THAT as completely as possible these past couple of days!" Sheridan made to leave when the investigator stopped him. "Captain Sheridan? I know I don't deserve one but I need a favour." Sheridan waited. "Leave Christi and Nathan out of your report, make it look like just David Took and I were involved!" Campbell begged. Sheridan thought for a minute. "I will certainly have to consider my report VERY carefully!" he commented, then turned and left. ---===***===--- Delenn sat down with her tea and began again to wait for the message she knew must come. Much time had passed and with each second her concern increased. she worried, Her hand trembled as she sipped her tea. The computer chimed for her attention. "There is a message on Gold channel." Her tension built to near fever. "Accept the message!" A Minbari face, lined with strength and dignity, replaced the station logo. "It is good to see you again Delenn." he began, "Are you well?" "I am fine, if tired, Satai." the ambassador replied, "The war between the Narn and the Centauri makes for more demands on my time." "Then I will waste no more of it. The arraignment is complete, judgement has been passed." the satai replied levelly. He paused, his blue- white eyes studying her face, before continuing, "Patricia Campbell is found to have committed no crime under Minbari law. As she appears to harbour no ill will against us, it is decreed that none be directed against her for the unforeseen consequences of long past actions." - Delenn sighed with relief - "With both your and Aylit Corsal's testimonials to back the evidence of her own words this was an effortless judgement to make." The ambassador bowed. "Thank you for informing me Satai Hedronn. I was unsure of the wisdom of my action as the time passed." "Some delay was unavoidable." Hedronn answered with a smile, "On hearing the decision the aylit immediately demanded the human be posted to his staff. It seems she has found a loyal ally in Corsal." "This has not been allowed though." Delenn queried. "It was necessary to dissuade him." Hedronn continued, "Besides, the palori were equally vocal in demanding her after they received your communication. As you suggested, old friend, Patricia Campbell is now a neophyte at the palori compound in your home district." "I will inform her son that she is well." "No!" Hedronn dissented, "She lives as a Minbari now. All other memories of her are to disappear." Delenn bowed her head. "As you wish Satai." she said humbly. "As I wish Ambassador." the satai replied. The connection was broken. Chapter 30. Tim Campbell juggled the data crystals in one hand, then inserted one at random into the reader on his apartment's console. He collapsed into the threadbare couch. "Play." he instructed. Immediately, the door chime sounded. "Mute." he amended irritably, to the door he called, "Open." Garibaldi strolled in casually and sauntered over to where the investigator sat. "How are you feeling?" "The doctor says I'll be lucky if I ever use my hand again, and I've got a cracked shoulder, a couple of bruised ribs, and splash burn across my chest in the shape of North America" Campbell shrugged stoically. "I'll live." "I thought you might want to know the Captain has finished his report." the chief remarked. "Interesting reading?" Campbell asked disinterestedly. "You might think so. He's careful to point how you turn up at this station with an attitude problem, find the body of an old friend, and flip out on some crazy, private crusade to catch the killer." Garibaldi began, "Then you corner him in a storeroom, get caught up in a fire fight, cause an explosion, and wake up in a med-lab feeling stupid." "Well it's creative!" commented Campbell. "It's a hell of a lot more than you deserve." said Garibaldi sourly. He glanced over his shoulder, then turned to stare incredulously at the screen. "Your watching cartoons!" he exclaimed. "There's nothing wrong with cartoons." Campbell answered snootily. "Hey, don't tell ME!" the security chief protested. On the screen the grey cat got hit by yet another bowling ball. "Though I'm not much of a `Tom and Jerry' fan, I prefer to watch the masters, you know, `Daffy Duck'." "Woah, woah, WOAH!" Campbell scolded, "Not in the same breath, NEVER in the same breath!" He gestured to the screen, the mouse hopped back and forth on a bowling pin avoiding the hard flung balls. "Look at the timing, the visual flair! You'd trade all that for a few corny puns?" "Puns nothing, there's a whole comic plot in there!" "With all that reliance on dialogue, no way!" Campbell asserted, "Is Daffy Duck funny with the sound off?" "Is Tom and Jerry funny with your eyes shut?" Garibaldi retorted. Campbell rolled his eyes heavenward. "I beg for comedy and he gives me silly noises!" "Hold it, hold it!" Garibaldi drew a line under the exchange with his hands. "There's only one way to settle this and that's head to head! Grab up your cartoons and I'll match you gag for gag! Hell I'll even whip up some popcorn!" he offered. Campbell scooped up the crystals. "Real popcorn?" Garibaldi nodded. "Real popcorn with butter sauce and sugar?" The security chief pulled a face. "Are you kidding? You put SALT on popcorn!" They left the room. "Salt!" Campbell gagged, locking his door with the obligatory thump, "No wonder you put sugar in your tea. It's to wash the taste of the popcorn away!" "You English, you know nothing!" Garibaldi nagged. They set off down Grey-17. "I know not to put sugar in my tea!" "Well I know not to put it on popcorn!" They turned the corner together. "No you put salt on it, like it was porridge or something." Garibaldi laughed, "No it's SUGAR on porridge!" Campbell drew breath, and the argument raged throughout the night. It was none the less heated for its essential friendliness. [The End] ---------------------------------------------------------------------------