From ravensteel@usa.pipeline.com Sun Aug 18 21:10:02 1996 Date: Sat, 10 Aug 1996 21:07:30 GMT From: Les McBride To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: New Story: "To the Gallows-Foot..." Part 1 Hi, y'all! New story here. It's been pestering me for a bit, ever since I read Ali's "To Fight Legends" at the archive (which is also when I found out about the list). For those of you following "Convergence" you should recognize the security officer who doesn't call Garibaldi "Chief". I made a couple of assumptions for this that I hope won't be too glaring. 1) Apparently, EarthForce has three branches: Navy, Marines, and something else. (cf.: General Hague, General Smits, Major Ryan). At least, they don't wear the same uniforms as the Marines, in spite of the similar rankings. Now, it might be the equivalent of the US Air Force, but I know the US Army enlisted ranks better, so I used that. 2) I assumed that at least some of the security contingent on B5 are actually MPs (military police) and not hired civilians. This runs concurrent to the True Arc, so I've included both dates and episode titles in brackets as points of reference. Thanks to my beta (and gamma) readers: Jenny, Julie, and Mary. Gifts will be forthcoming. Thanks (maybe) to Ali Hopkins for giving me this idea in the first place. :-P Thanks also to Mark Carlson for the chronology I used, up through 2259. I don't know where I even came up with it, but I found it on my hard drive at the precise moment I needed it. Babylon 5, technology, setting, equipment, and most of the characters belong to J. Michael Strazynski, Babylonian Productions, and Warner Brothers, and will be surrendered to them upon request (if they *really* want them). Torana Dain is MINE, (c) 1996, Leslie C. McBride. Hope you enjoy. Comments? ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "To the Gallows-Foot..." Part One (2257-2258) by Leslie C. McBride [probably Dec 2256 or Jan 2257 (date subject to much conjecture)] [before "The Gathering"] Looking around the spacious docking bay, she couldn't quite decide how she felt. Relieved? Frightened? She shook her head. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the assignment, and whatever happened, happened. While they were waiting for billeting, one of the other security officers -- one of the older ones, most likely a war vet -- stopped in front of her. All the other eyes were on them. This was going to be interesting. "They say you survived the war." She matched his casual air, but both of them knew exactly what was going on. "Yep." "They say you fought at the Line." "Yep." There was a slight murmur. There hadn't been any ground pounders at the Line. Draftees and wartime volunteers without special skills generally got dumped in infantry. Necessity, but it caused a bad "us against them" attitude. This was going to be the tricky part. If they didn't accept her.... Self-deprecatingly, she shrugged. "Hey, I was already in when the war started." A few relaxed, but not all. "They couldn't tell me what ship you were on." "Oh, that's easy. The _Boyington_." He stared for a minute, then relaxed, grinning. "I *thought* you were all right." He extended his hand. "Lou Welch." "... I hope you don't mind, the only quarters we have ready has a full kitchen. I know most people prefer the extra space in the living room." Torana Dain snorted. "This is a *problem*?" The young ensign -- impossibly young, Torana thought -- looked at her in confusion. "You mean... you *cook*?" "Yep. Always have. Prefer to. Any, uh, word on who the security chief's gonna be?" "Aw, some loser the Commander picked. They'll be here next week some time. Glad I'll be gone." Irritated, she frowned at him. "You don't think this'll work?" "Hell, no. The whole project's cursed. I'm surprised this one hasn't blown up yet. And it's all hype, `last, best hope for peace' and all that. Don't tell me you *believe* it?" "We can always hope. Don't you... no, you're too young. I survived the war, somehow. If there's anything I can do, however small, to prevent something like that from happening again.... That's why I'm here, why I volunteered." "You *volunteered*? Uh!" Then he looked at her almost hopefully. "Gropo, I suppose." He was really wanting to be wrong. "No. I was an MP before it started. Then I got assigned to boarder-repulse." "That means you were on a ship! Were you at the Line?" "Why has the Battle of the Line gotten so glorified? Don't you know what it was? If the Line fell, then there would've been nothing stopping them from taking Earth and Mars!" "But... but they said... the survivors were all named heroes." "Words. We weren't there looking for honor, or fame. We were -- most of us -- protecting our homes, our families. If we failed, then there would be no hope at all. And there nearly wasn't." "But... you were there, weren't you?" She sighed. "Yes." "What ship? Please tell me." "The EAS _Boyington_." He gaped at her. "The _Boyington_ was hulled. The only survivors..." "... Were three members of a boarder-repulse team," she finished wearily. "We were far enough down for the section to be sealed off while we still had enough air. We have to keep that from ever happening again." She shook her head. "And I think Jeff Sinclair's just the man for the job." [the following week] "Torana Dain, reporting for duty, sir." She saluted smartly. "Stop it, stop it. I'm no officer." She squinted a little at him, trying to determine the right answer based on what she knew about this CWO she was now supposed to work for. Which was admittedly not much. "Yes, boss." "Stop that, too." "Yes, Boss." Her eyes were twinkling. In spite of himself, Michael Garibaldi smiled. "Sit." Grinning, she did. First test passed -- he could be teased, at least a little. He leaned against the console. "Spec 5, eh? Never more than that?" She shrugged. "Never saw the need. I'm no leader." Folding his arms, he looked at her almost like he didn't believe her. But he didn't say anything about it. "This is your second stint in EarthForce. Why?" "After the Line, I went back home, to Earth. Three years I spent looking for work. *Three years*. Nothing. So I reupped, left Earth, haven't been back since." She tended to talk with her hands, and this was no exception. "What happened? What couldn't you find anything in?" "I was a history teacher." She laughed shortly. "I know: it's the last thing anyone ever expects. Something happened while I was gone, something.... Suddenly it was all the great deeds of the Earth Alliance and nothing else." "And you refused to toe the line." "A course." "I've... run into some of that myself. Good way to get into trouble." "Don't I know it. But I won't be pushed; my mind is my own." He looked at her oddly, but didn't comment. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Tell me what you can do here, for the station." "Well." She leaned back a little, considering. "I've never provoked a fight, and I can usually encourage one to stop. I can take rookies and train them to be better at the job than me. I, uh, notice things, and can put them together in... new and interesting combinations. And I have experience in boarder-repulse ops." "*That's* not something you're likely to ever use here." "Never say `never', Boss," "Will you stop?" Her mouth twitched. "No. Look, Boss, I oughtta tell you, there's some here who're gonna need work before they'll accept you. If ever. The ensign who briefed me last week -- just out of the Acadamy, first tour of duty -- made some, ah, disparaging comments about your ability to do the job. And he hasn't been the only one." He narrowed his eyes. "What'd he say?" "Um." She closed her eyes, remembering. "He called you `some loser the commander picked'." Shaking his head, he looked away. "Nuts." "Hey, this boy prob'ly thinks *I'm* a loser cause I'm only a Spec 5 at my age." She paused. "Boss." Something in her voice made him look at her. "*I* don't care what your record looks like. If Jeff Sinclair chose you to do this, then you're the man." "You know Jeff?" "Met him during the war. Don't know him well, but I trust him." "There aren't many people who'd say that, anymore. He was on the fast track to admiral until...." "The Line, I know. Everything changed there." "Yeah. Do you know the XO?" "Only by reputation." He snorted. "I'm beginning to think this place is the last, best hope for losers and dropouts. EarthDome *wants* this place to fail." "Of *course* they do. Our job is to prove them wrong." "You think we can?" She only shrugged. He made an unidentified sound, then brought himself back to the interview. "Well, the only black marks on your record are your refusal of OCS, and numerous requests against promotion. I think you'll be okay here. Unless you're prone to brawling in your off hours?" She laughed, but it sounded forced. "Boss, you'll prob'ly never even *see* me when I'm off duty." [late 2257] [after "The Gathering"] He slumped on the stone bench, letting the dimming light wash over him. It was all falling apart. His carefully picked command staff... Laurel was already gone, Ben was leaving. Only Michael was left. There was an almost inaudible step behind him. "Evenin', Commander." He started to reply automatically. Then he remembered that voice... ... Lieutenant Jeffrey Sinclair was roaming the corridors of the ship. His wing was hitching a ride back insystem on an old _Knoxville_-class cruiser. He wasn't terribly familiar with these ships, but it didn't matter all that much: it wasn't like he was really going anywhere. The rest of his squad had been grating on his nerves that evening. He had needed to get away from them for a while. Not paying attention to where he was going, he suddenly stepped into blackness. He stopped. Half the galaxy was spread out before him. He let himself get lost in the hugeness. Then he heard a rustle, and a low voice. "Evenin', Lieutenant." "Hello," he said hesitantly. Lights came up slowly. A squarish woman was leaning against one of the supports, adjusting the illumination controls. Clutched in one hand was a large mug. "Specialist...?" "Dain, sir." Her eyes were clouded with fatigue. "Pilots don't come down here much." She sniffed. "Not many anythings come down here." "Sometimes I just need to get away by myself. I've always been like that." She raised a curious eyebrow, but her gaze was still trapped by the starfield. "I was schooled by Jesuits." It was the answer he always used to explain his introspection. No one ever asked for clarification, but he could see in their eyes they didn't understand. No one ever had. Now she accorded him the briefest of glances. "Ah. Then we have something in common. My primary education was spent at a Catholic school. Wasn't a gentler, kinder man in the whole town than the first priest there when I was. He was a Jesuit. They *do* tend to instill a... different perspective in one." She gestured at the stars with her drink. "This is my morning. Before duty, I come down here and -- I don't try to forget what's happening, but try to put it in perspective. This helps in getting through the day." "A man named John once said, `come empty, do nothing'." She looked at him sharply then, eyes clearing. "Good. I wasn't sure I was making sense." "A common background helps." "Yes, sir, it does." Then she looked up at the dimly-lit chrono. "Time to get upstairs. Have a good night, sir." She sketched a salute and left him in the presence of the universe... ... He shifted to look at her. She was standing easily at parade rest, looking beyond him, across the curve of the station. "It's Dain, isn't it?" "I didn't think you would remember." "I don't think I could forget." She smiled, almost sadly, at that. "We spoke, what, twice? And you remember?" "You do, too." All that elicited was a shrug. "Is this your morning?" "Actually, my meal break. Lunch, I guess. Boss thinks he has to keep an eye on me for part of my shift." "So, you're working for Michael." "Yes, sir. He's very good at his job. But there's not many who'd say that." "I know." They watched the core shuttle leave the station. "You were right, you know." "Oh, aye?" The second time they had spoken was after she had broken up a fight between two of his squad members. As she nursed a swelling lip, he tried to apologize for them. "They've never... usually they...." Finally, he just trailed off into silence. "Ah, not yer fault," she growled. "They c'n feel what Command isn't telling us. I c'n, too." "Feel what?" She looked around for any higher-ups or snitches. "The war. With our own strength, there's no way we can win. It'll take a miracle for us to even survive it." "Those seem to be in short supply anymore." "Maybe." Her voice brought him back to the present. "This will work itself out, too, maybe better than you planned. That's how it usually works. Our own effort is never enough, but we're too blind to see it. But you can't worry about it." Her comlink beeped. "Have a good night, sir." She stepped away before answering. When his wing had left the _Boyington_, he had found a note taped to his 'Fury's console, unsigned. /All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well./ Watching her go, he chuckled softly. He understood now, at least the original intent. Still, there was something else underlaying her words -- something he couldn't quite define -- something he didn't yet understand. But he would. In time. [later the same week] "Is that all your stuff, ma'am?" Lieutenant Commander Susan Ivanova blinked. "Oh, uh... yeah, I think so. This isn't normally included in a security officer's job." Torana shrugged. "I thought I should meet the new XO. Always a good idea to know who you're dealing with. Is there anything else?" "You've been here how long, now?" "Eight months, ma'am." "So you're starting to get a handle on this place. What's your opinion? What have I got myself into?" "Ha. It's... unique, I'll say that. You'll probably never get bored." "Do you think it's going to work?" She exhaled reflectively. "I don't know. Can always hope. I believe in the mission of this place. I don't see how anyone could've survived the war and *not*. But.... I get the feeling it will succeed. I'm just not sure if it'll be it's original purpose or not." She shook her head. "Now I'm just rambling. Ignore me. Is there anything else, ma'am?" [late April 2258] ["The War Prayer"] They were transferring the known Home Guard upstairs for transport out. Their slurs and epithets crowded in on her foggy brain until only one thought remained. Growling, she pinned one of them to the wall. "Who th'hell d'you think y'are, decidin who deserves t'live and who doesn't? Who made you God? Huh? Tell me that!" "Slag lover." He spat in her face. Someone grabbed her fist and pulled, dragging her away from the prisoner. She whirled, still ready to hit someone. "Cool it. Lou, get him outta here." "Right, Chief. C'mon, you." Welch led the prisoner away roughly. Slowly, she lowered her fist, but glared at him. "What didja think you were doin? You know how we run things here!" "So?" She pulled her shoulders up to her ears, hands in pockets. A closed, unlistening posture. As he thought of what to say next, he tried to remember the last time she hadn't been on duty. "When'd you sleep last?" That was *not* what she was expecting to hear. "What?" "Or ate?" "Uh... oh, I dunno. You needed someone down here you could trust t'deal with these... Humans." "That's been...." Counting, he frowned at her. "You're not using stims, are you?" "Hunh? Heck, no. It's just been adrenaline. I just don't understand...." She shut herself off again. "You wanna talk about it?" "No." "Too bad." "Water, hot," she snapped at the waitress. They weren't in Earhart's -- too many people, too hard to try to talk about business. She stared at nothing until her water was brought to her. She took a teabag out of her pocket and started dunking it absently. "What kind is that?" "Green," she answered shortly. "So... what happened?" Shrugging, she stared into her cup. "Look, we've worked together a year now, and I've never even heard you raise your voice until today." She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "I'm sorry, Boss. I screwed everything up. I just.... Blame it on lack of sleep." "Why? It's not like you're the only one." "I know, it's just... the job always gets a hundred percent or more. If I've gotta pull extra shifts to make me feel like I'm doin it right, then that's what I gotta do. And... I dunno if you can trust everyone working for you." He frowned. "Who?" "Oh...." Then she shook her head. "It's just a feeling I get sometimes. No proof. And I've been wrong before. The, uh, Home Guard. They're not the only ones, and they're not the first." "I know." "Have you ever been on the receiving end of that kind of bigotry?" "Can't say I have." She sipped her tea, focus turned inward. "Xenophobia. Fear of the other. Where I grew up, to be different.... I've never been good at conforming." "I thought you grew up on Earth." "I did. Most of the scars can't be seen. I eventually got to the point where I could be proud of what I am. I can't change it. But it's been hard. Then to see this.... Life has t'be protected, *all* life, or we might as well be dead ourselves." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I've ruined the first thing I could do for the station." It was a long while before he said anything. Then: "Any friends at all?" "A few. Mostly outcasts like me. So many of them are long gone now." "The war?" "The War," she agreed. "Yeah." He shook his head. "I'm gonna take you off the duty roster for tomorrow." "Suspension. I guess I deserve that." "No, it's a day off. If you leave Blue Sector, I don't want to see you anywhere but here. Understand?" "Yes, Boss." He fished in his pocket, pulled out a data crystal. "I don't think you've laughed for a while. You can borrow this, if you want." She stared at it, an odd look on her face. Finally, she finished her tea and stood up. As she took it, the corners of her mouth might have moved. "Maybe the War didn't take them all away. Night, Boss." [the next day] Cringing, she turned away from the diners. "I don't care how good it tastes, I can't eat anything that looks like *that*. I'd rather eat worms." "Wha-at?" Laughing, she apologized. "Sorry, Boss. That's what my dad used to call spaghetti." "Sacrilege!" "I know, Boss. I at least would eat it without complaining. Oh. Here." She handed him back his data crystal, and added another. "Thanks. Haven't seen the Duck since I was a kid. I hauled out *my* vid collection earlier. Not much animation, though." "What's this?" "I think you'll like it. The lead I think maybe was a boxer or something. It's about this gangster who tries to go straight...." [3 August 2258] ["Signs and Portents"] She squinted down the corridor. He passed her -- well-dressed, darkly handsome. For some reason, she turned to watch him. Images came to her, and maybe part of a name: exploration ship... the Rim... all hands lost... Mo.... Something brushed against her mind and she shuddered. The Ambassador's voder heaved itself into life. \*Why are you here? It is not time.*\ "The time is a hell of a lot closer than you think! Can't you see all the parts coming together? No, you probably can't. Why did I even bother to come tell you?" \*You do not understand.*\ The bulky encounter suit started to turn away. "I understand more'n *you* seem to. Ugh. Bloody Vorlons." Kosh watched her stomp away. \*Humans.*\ [early December 2258] "Ti Chalnek? You're under arrest." He sneered. "What for?" A crowd was forming. She hated apprehending people in the Zocalo, but there had been no choice this time. "You wanna list? Let's start with forgery, grand theft, and violating probation. I can add resisting arrest, if you like." "My lawyer will hear about this!" "Good. Zack!" Then she narrowed her eyes and whistled. "*Zack*! Take this guy up to Central!" The new kid wandered over. "Pay attention, willya?" she growled at him. "Yes, ma'am." Lou was already trying to disperse the crowd, so she gestured for another officer to assist with the suspect and went to help. "All right, fun's over! Nothing more to see!" Then she saw something not right and *moved*. Pushing people away. A PPG could be heard arming. She knocked Lou aside as it fired. It sizzled into her arm, which just happened to be where the other officer's back had been not a moment before. Without stopping, she turned and strode the three steps necessary to grab the culprit by the shirt and lift him. "Now I'm unhappy." The gun clattered to the deck. By the time Garibaldi got there, the crowd had mostly dissipated. "All right, what happened?" Lou was holding the small, barely adult Human by the arm. "Dimwit here thought my back would make a good target." "You again, Smiley?" he asked, glaring. "Hey, I never-- I was framed!" Torana shook her head. "You want I should pop 'im for you, Boss?" He turned and stared at her for a long moment. She couldn't tell if he wanted to yell or laugh. Then he very deliberately looked away. Smiley was almost in tears, he was so terrified. "No, not that, anything but that, please don't let her have me!" "Get him out of here." He looked at her again. She was grinning, in spite of the pain. "Looks like I'm getting a rep around here." "You go get that arm checked out, all right?" "Yes, Boss." "And don't call me `boss'." "Yes, Boss." He shook his head and allowed himself the tiniest of smiles. "Zack, did you see what happened?" "Yeah, Chief. Like they said, Smiley was about to shoot Lou in the back, but she pushed him out of the way, then grabbed the kid before he could run. Chief, I ain't never seen anyone move that fast before." Nodding, he gestured him away. [end Part 1] ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Leslie C. McBride ravensteel@usa.pipeline.com --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "You're so cute when you're worried about investigating someone close to you." - Ivanova to Garibaldi, "A Race Through Dark Places" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From ravensteel@usa.pipeline.com Sun Aug 18 21:16:21 1996 Date: Wed, 14 Aug 1996 22:16:20 GMT From: Les McBride To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "To the Gallows-Foot" Part2 Section1 Hi, again. Thanks for the comments on Part 1. I decided to split Part 2 up into two sections, the teaser, and the answers (some of them, anyway). You'll just have to wait a few days on Section 2. Thanks again to my beta readers (Jenny, Julie, and Mary) and maybe Ali Hopkins (I still haven't decided yet). ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "To the Gallows-Foot..." Part 2, Section 1 by Leslie C. McBride [3 January 2259] [after "Chrysalis"] Spotting her quarry, she jogged a bit to catch up with him. "Heard you were being shipped out, Commander." He had long since ceased to wonder how she always knew precisely what was going on. "Yes. The _Daedalus_ is waiting on me. Their timing couldn't be any worse, though." He didn't slow a hairs-breadth. Understanding what he wasn't saying, her eyes darkened to the color of far-off storm clouds. Not at him, however, and he knew that. "All manner of things shall be well," he murmured, half to himself. She glanced sideways at him. "You're learning." Now they were at his departure gate. "I'll try and look after the place for you, sir." "I'm certain you will. And when I come back... I wish you would call me Jeff." Her only reply was her very best salute. [late January 2259] [immediately after "The Geometry of Shadows"] "Nuts." "Boss? You okay?" "Yeah, I just.... Is Jack one of the ones you had a feeling about?" She hesitated, then nodded. "And you didn't tell me?" "Boss, I... I've been wrong.... If I was wrong, you wouldn't've been able to trust him again. I didn't want to change anything." "I learned to trust my gut a long time ago." "Oh, I listen to those feelings. Means I don't trust many people." "Will you tell me from now on?" She sighed. "Yes, Boss." "Starting now: what's your gut tell you about the new CO?" Exhaling, she closed her eyes. "He looks like Reg'lar Navy. And I know Clark appointed him based on his record, but... I think he might be a good ally." She shook her head and looked at him. "Walk softly, Mike. I've been wrong before, too often. This might be one of them." [later the same week] "Garibaldi wanted me to talk to you," she started. Torana rolled her eyes. "Lemme guess: he wants to promote me, right? And since he couldn't bully me into it, he enlisted you." "`Bully' you? He's your superior." "Yeah, but I know what he is: an NCO made good. He doesn't think I'll argue with you." "This isn't the first time you've asked to not be promoted." She shook her head. "Commander, I know this is something you probably won't understand. Promotion means leadership, and I don't have the slightest interest in or talent for that." "Your record says otherwise. The _Boyington_." "Bah. Two or three people in a combat situation, where everyone's life is on the line is one thing. Having people depend on you daily for that? I have enough just being responsible for myself." "You're right. I don't understand. That kind of temperament is totally foreign to me. All my career I've been pushing for that next promotion." "Most lifers are like that. But for every ten of you, there's one like me. I'm just interested in doing my job well and nothing else." She sniffed -- almost a chuckle. "The end result still looks the same, though. Double shifts, extra days -- Garibaldi's told me about you." "Okay, fine. So now what?" Thinking, she looked at the records. "I have no reason *not* to approve your promotion." "But, Commander..." "You're just going to have to deal with it. I think you can do us more good with a higher rank." "Aw, man," she mumbled, sounding years younger. "Congratulations, Staff Sergeant Dain." She extended her hand. Torana shook it warily, then narrowed her eyes. "Staff? Why not Spec 6?" "EarthForce won't allow it. Too much confusion, they say." [late February 2259] She locked the door and checked for scanners before sitting down, leaning forward, arms on knees. "Computer, begin recording, random alt program, voice only. `Sir. We've met before, but there's no reason you would remember me. You may call me Prescott. I offer to you my services in the War against the growing Darkness. I am including a, um, resume', of my xperience. The Vorlon Ambassador to Minbar should be able to verify any of my references.'" She paused. "`I wish I could tell you how this will end, if there's any hope of winning this War. There are never any guarantees. But the honor does not lie in the hope of victory, but in the attempt, that we never shirk from our high calling. We would be less human if we did not try. Go with the Light, sir.' End recording." She sank back, remembering, before finally getting up, taking the crystal with her. The woman with the odd brooch glared at her suspiciously. "Listen to it yourself, for all I care," Torana hissed. Still glaring. The security officer recognized most of the suspicion: a fierce loyalty and a need to protect her superior. Shaking her head, she thought She ran a hand back along her hair, nails digging into her scalp. "Look, I was told to deliver this. If you don't take it, it's my head, all right?" The Ranger relented slightly. At least, she took it. [15 March 2259] ["A Race Through Dark Places"] Alfred Bester had been in the Corps for so long that he could almost ignore the constant babble of other minds that was always there. Until... it *wasn't* there. He stopped and looked around. The only person in sight was a security officer, leaning casually against the wall. Bester had never met her before, but was familiar with her record. He probed, purposefully this time. Still nothing. He let none of this show on his face, or be heard in his voice. "Officer... Dain, is it?" She smiled a little, but without real humor. "Mister Bester." The silence almost echoed. It was like being in a recital hall. Alone. He opened his mouth say something, but closed it again and strode off. When he was out of earshot, she raised her link to her mouth and spoke softly. "Now." [May 2259] ["The Coming of Shadows"] The Ranger exited Ambassador Delenn's and turned left, looking back over his shoulder. He ran smack into a square-built security officer. "Easy," she calmed him. "I'm not after you." She held up a data crystal, waited just long enough for him to focus on it, then dropped it into his hand. "Message from Prescott." His eyes widened. "Yes. He will get it." She nodded and turned to go. "Excuse me, but... who *are* you?" "No one of consequence." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Leslie C. McBride ravensteel@usa.pipeline.com --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "You're so cute when you're worried about investigating someone close to you." - Ivanova to Garibaldi, "A Race Through Dark Places" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------