Disclaimer: everything in Babylon 5 belongs to JMS and Warner Bros., I'm just borrowing some of it. The title of this story is a loose translation of a line from a Russian song of the space era, music by V. Muradeli, lyrics by Y. Dolmatovski. Not making any money. Don't sue.

Chapter I

Fed Up

By chimère

That was enough.

The realisation came suddenly, but it was the sum of many small things rather than one lightning stroke. This non-aggression treaty with the Centauri was simply the last straw that finally made the load unbearable.

It wasn't that Ene had particularly cared for Santiago, but the gradual shutdown of democracy following the President's death had irked her quite a lot. The stupid human society had once again begun to spiral down towards tyranny, which would eventually burn itself out, of course, but the society would climb up only to fall down again, as it had done countless times before. It was simply... idiotic, just as it was inevitable.

That Earth had chosen the Centauri as allies came as no surprise, but she couldn't dismiss it like any other petty manoeuvre in politics, a field she was determined never to get involved in. She had always been fond of the Narn culture, of their fatalistic and philosophical view of life. She had learned to speak, read and write Narn reasonably well, and truly liked their literature. The destruction of the culture that had produced it bothered her more than her own planet's descent into tyranny.

And then there were personal matters. She was fed up with it all: the lack of a family, the scientific career she no longer had any interest in, the farm she was forced to run on her own with little hope of ever reviving the place. It was all empty – of joy, meaning, purpose.

In short, she wanted out. Out of her obligations, out from under the increasingly tyrannic regime, out of her life. Off this planet. She had long felt homeless and now found that she wanted to be that in truth.

If getting out of her life had been her only objective, Mars, Io, Proxima III or Orion VII would have done nicely. But with everything being pointless, she felt that she could do with a purpose. She didn't want to be an unimportant scientist and a bitter spinster with nothing to show for her life but some papers in not-so-outstanding journals and a less than successful farm. She wanted to make something of her life, however ridiculous that might sound. Just for once, to do something, anything worthwhile. And the sooner she died after that, the better. Both purposes would be served by going to the Narn Homeworld to help the refugees and the resistance. Perhaps she could save just one life or kill just one murderer.

And if she wanted to go to the Narn Homeworld, there was only one way open to her, even that doubtful at best. Babylon 5.

Begin message recording.

Ahem. Doctor Franklin, my name is Ene Maaroos. I am a senior gene technician at the University of Tartu, Estonia, Europe, Earth Alliance. I have a PhD degree and ten years of lab experience. Copies of my credentials are recorded on this data crystal along with this message. I am requesting the post of a lab technician at the MedLab on Babylon 5 and, if it is at all possible, wish to take up the job immediately. I am aware of the irregularity of my request. I have never been employed by EarthForce, nor do I have any desire to ever join the military. I understand that this could be a setback, as could the fact that I have never left Earth's atmosphere before. Nevertheless it is my almost fervent wish to join the staff of the multicultural and politically neutral Babylon 5. I have come as far as I can with my own contacts here on Earth; to actually get the job, I need your consent. I urge you to consider my request. If you should require any further information, I will be glad to send it to you. Please respond at your earliest convenience.

Message ends. Press A to save. Press B to exit. Press C to record another message. Press D to...

As Ene had expected, finding a caretaker for the farm was what took most of the time she spent putting her affairs in order. She didn't have the heart to sell the place, which meant that she had to complete the nearly impossible task of finding someone trustworthy enough to live in the house and keep it from falling into disrepair. The man she finally settled for was a former acquaintance of his father and, as far as she could judge, the best choice available. They signed a contract stating that if she returned within five years, she could have the farm back, but privately she doubted that would ever happen. Five years' worth of "salary" paid in advance to the caretaker took a sizeable chunk out of her resources, but she didn't think it wise to burn all the bridges behind her.

As she prepared to leave, the news she came across on the undoubtedly censored ISN every now and then made her think that it might be quite a good idea to get off Earth just now, apart from all her own reasons, because soon it might be too late for such a move. She closed her account on Earth and transferred all her money to a bank on Orion VII just in case, for the first time feeling grateful for her small fortune that enabled her to leave with relative ease.

She quit her job at the university, sent messages to a few friends and her great-uncle, the only relative she still kept in touch with at all, and packed very little. Still, a collection of poems by Sean Mullet, a contemporary Irish writer whose works she rather enjoyed, found its way into her suitcase.

Finally, the endless paperwork was done and she could reserve a place on an Earth passenger liner bound for Babylon 5. With a job offer directly from Doctor Franklin and the helpful nudges in the right direction by a well-connected acquaintance of hers, the authorities couldn't keep her from leaving. She got the impression that they would very much have liked to do just that, which only increased her unease about staying on Earth. If EarthDome didn't like people leaving the planet even with perfectly legitimate causes, it was definitely the time to get out.

Ene didn't look back as she boarded the Demeter. Instead, she pushed her way through the crowd at the reception area of the ship to a lookout window. It was some time before they took off, but when they did, she could watch the sky's blue dissolve into black. And stars.

Ene thought that the Babylon 5 Station looked quite impressive, but she certainly didn't believe any of the "last best hope for peace" rubbish. Peace was lost and Babylon 5 had hardly done anything to prevent that. It was bound to be a typical military "yes sir, no sir" kind of place run by EarthForce, not a neutral ground open to all races, religions and views of life, basking in the freedom of thought.

Not that it mattered at all. For her, Babylon 5 would just be a brief stop on the way.

"You mean that after all the trouble you went through to get here, you want to leave again? Just like that? What about that fervent wish to work on this multicultural and politically neutral station? And me – I'm supposed to give you up now, am I, after being persuaded to hire you in the first place?"

Ene had the impression that Doctor Stephen Franklin wasn't a man who was easily angered, but she had certainly managed to do that.

"I couldn't very well tell Earth authorities where I was really going and hope to ever get off the planet. I needed an acceptable destination. Babylon 5 was perfect," she stated calmly.

"And where is it that you're really going?"

"Surely you understand I can't tell you that."

"You're damn well going to! Otherwise I'll have Mister Garibaldi lock you up!"

"On what charges? You can't stop me, Doctor. You can only fire me, which is exactly what I want."

Doctor Franklin looked ready to explode. Ene took pity on him and decided to explain what little she could.

"Look, if you want to know why I'm being such an impertinent bitch, it's because I've got nothing left to lose. You can't threaten me with anything. I'm not bound by conventionalities. You don't have to worry that I'll cause trouble, on the contrary, I don't want anything to do with anyone. I am outside the society. The only thing you can do is let me go. Think of me like I'm already dead, Doctor – you won't be far off the mark."

With that, she turned on her heel and left MedLab, leaving Doctor Franklin to stare after her.

"Ambassador G'Kar."

"I am no longer an ambassador."

"I don't acknowledge the Centauri occupation. Therefore, you are still ambassador."

"You would do better to acknowledge reality. Do not try to flatter me."

"Very well. I wish to go to the Narn Homeworld to help the resistance."

There was a profound silence as the Narn stared at her, red eyes narrowing in the reptilian face. After a long pause G'Kar finally said, "I do not believe I have the honour of knowing who I am talking to."

"Ene Maaroos. From Earth."

"It is a peculiar name."

"Not all Earthers are English, citizen G'Kar."

"Is it Miss or Missis Maaroos?"

"Professor." That wasn't strictly true – she hadn't given any lectures in over a year, but she found that references to her sex and marital status irked her.

G'Kar raised his fists to his chest in the traditional Narn gesture. "Now that we have established that I am citizen G'Kar and you are Professor Maaroos, tell me, why do you want to help our resistance?"

"Because I want my life to have a purpose."

"That's very noble, no doubt, but what makes you think that you can be of service?"

"Because I can speak, read and write your language, and because I don't care whether I live or die," Ene replied in Narn.

There was another long pause as G'Kar stared at her. "It is much more likely that you are a Centauri spy," he said at length. "Your world has allied itself with our enemy."

"I have nothing to do with my world any more."

"Why should I believe you?"

"You shouldn't. Trust is a luxury that usually costs one dearly. But know that I am Estonian, a member of a small nation that has been conquered many times by many others in the past. I know what it's like."

"This is not the past. You cannot know "what it's like" on a planet bombarded so heavily that the dust obscures the sky. But if you have even the faintest idea of what it is to fight an occupation, you should know that you will most probably die there."

"Good."

"A deathwish is hardly a purpose in life."

"What difference does it make to you as long as I help you?" Ene asked irritably.

"If fate has given us a gift, it is a strange gift," G'Kar muttered. "A dark one."

Apparently G'Kar had some quite useful contacts in the security, since she was to get on a supply ship bound for some destination she wasn't given a name for to pick up its "cargo" (meaning weapons, of course) and then meant to proceed to the Narn Homeworld. She spent most of the four days before leaving sitting at a table in the Zocalo with a single drink in front of her, watching humans and aliens. When she left, her opinion of Babylon 5 wasn't the same it had been when she'd arrived here. But that really didn't matter at all.

"Can you pilot a shuttle?"

"No."

"A light planetary cruiser?"

"No."

"Can you perform surgical operations?"

"No. And before you ask, no, I don't have much more experience inflicting wounds than I have healing them. I've only handled a PPG a few times. But I suppose I can learn that part fast enough, or if not, then I at least won't be around very long to irritate you with my inexperience."

The leader of the group of Narns who had come to rendezvous with the shuttle carrying the weapons and her shook her head. "What was G'Kar thinking," she muttered. "What use are you?"

Ene shrugged. "Just another pair of hands."

"An untrained pair of hands."

"Well, give me the dirty work, then. I don't care."

"Hmh. You'll slow us down. You can't even see properly in our light or withstand the dust and the radiation in the air as Narns do. Do you realise how many of the bombs dropped here were thermonuclear warheads? Very soon you'll die on us and then we'll be forced to attend to your body. That's the help you bring."

"Oh, come on. Just because I'm not a trained resistance fighter there's no reason to think that I'm an idiot. Why do you think I'm wearing this mask with a respirator? It has been adjusted to the range of wavelengths of the red light here to help me see. And I'm injecting myself daily with anti-radiation medicine."

The Narn leader gave her a long look and grunted. "You'll start coordinating the transfer of people to and from one of our smaller refugee centres. You'll answer to Se'Khor." With that, she turned around and walked to the shuttle to oversee the transport of weapons to the planetary cruiser of the resistance.

Ene bowed fractionally to her new superior who had been pointed out to her. He didn't look too thrilled at the prospect of having her on his hands. She let her bow hide her grin. It seemed that the end of her life would be satisfyingly interesting.

The Narns were a very strong and hardy race – quite extraordinary in human terms. Ene had known that beforehand, of course, but book knowledge was never the same as seeing something with one's own eyes. There was something else, however, something she had never read about and that soon begun to bother her to no end. The Narns' ideas of cleanliness and hygiene were about on the level of humans of the Middle Ages. Granted, no one could expect a refugee centre of the resistance to be spotless, but with the exception of the medical facilities and staff, these rooms and people continually made Ene feel disgusted.

The refugee centre, although a small one, was a busy place. It was situated in a relatively sparsely populated area, on the edge of a huge semi-desert that covered most of a continent in the planet's northern hemisphere. Nevertheless, quite a lot of Narns were fleeing to the wilderness from the cities that had been bombarded most heavily. It was the responsibility of this centre to find those refugees and gather them here to be fed and given medical care to the best abilities of the resistance. Those fit for travel were shipped off the planet at the earliest possibility. Most of them went to Babylon 5.

Ene's job was to help organise the people arriving at the centre – to separate the sick and injured from the healthy and give them over to the medical staff, to find everyone something to eat and a place to sleep, to console as much as she could. Many were reluctant to trust a human and there were even some threats to cut the throat of this member of a race who had allied themselves with the Centauri, but security was tight enough so that none of those threats were carried out. Ene also found that her command of the Narn language she had always taken pride in didn't enable her to speak fluently to all the refugees – the Narns had several dialects that were sometimes almost as different as the tongues of Earth.

Sometimes, when things got really busy, Ene's help was also enlisted in communicating with the shuttles taking the refugees away and in organising the priority order of the people waiting to leave. Children came first, of course, but if they had any surviving family members, she tried to let those go along as well whenever possible.

The work was hard, she got little to eat and less time to sleep. Additionally, there were the general inconveniencies a human experienced on this planet – adapting to gravity slightly weaker than on Earth, wearing the compulsory mask to avoid breathing in dust and to be able to see properly, needing to inject the anti-radiation medicine. But with the exception of the fact that it was almost impossible to wash oneself, she liked all of it. Somehow, it felt… right. She was glad of her decision to leave Earth.

One evening, the usual scant, canned and none too tasty food of the refugee centre received an amazing addition – a supply ship brought in fruit that looked very much like yellow oranges. Most of them were given to the refugees, of course, but the staff members each got one, as well. Ene found that the fruit was difficult to peel and tasted rather bitter, obviously because it wasn't ripe yet. She decided to risk bothering her superior asking about it.

"Se'Khor, why has this fruit been picked so early? Food is scarce as it is, is it wise not to let what little harvest we have ripen fully?"

"Use your brains, human," the Narn replied with such contempt that Ene flinched. "You know about the radiation, don't you? Our people can withstand it reasonably well, but the children are still vulnerable. Very soon, the radiation will have killed or polluted most of the plants on the planet. These serrash were picked from a small plantation far from the towns. We couldn't wait for them to ripen, for then they would have become polluted as well. This is the last fruit these children shall eat for a long time." He nodded towards a group of Narn children huddled together at the back of the room, some still busy trying to peel the serrash, some already eating and grimacing at the bitter taste.

Ene had never seen a Narn weep – she didn't even know if they could –, but she felt a lump forming in her own throat despite having thought herself quite tough and accustomed to the horrors life threw at those who lived it. This bitter and unripe fruit was the most tragic thing she had seen in a long time.

It was purely by chance that Ene picked up this transmission – a faint distress signal, barely noticeable as she searched for a frequency to communicate with an incoming shuttle.

"--n you -- me? Can anyone hear us? We need --. We are in the middle of the desert, we escaped -- Mardef. --er can't walk any further, -- been carrying me. I don't know exactly -- are. Please help -- come looking for us. Can --one hear -- help --"

"It's a trap." Se'Khor's jaw was set in its most resolute way. "No one could have come all the way from Mardef on foot, especially carrying someone. It's the Centauri seeking to draw us out and capture us."

"People can do things far beyond their normal capabilities when their life is in danger. And they haven't come all the way from Mardef – it seems like one of them has collapsed on the way. Come on, Se'Khor, it's a girl's, a child's voice! It's her mother or father who's probably dying out there. She can't make her way here on her own. Would you leave a child of your own people to die alone in the desert?"

Se'Khor's fist landed on a nearby table so hard that it upset several bottles of medicine standing there, which she hastened to pick up. "Do not taunt me, human!" he thundered. "You have no right to lecture me about taking care of my own people!"

"Prove me wrong, then," Ene replied in the daredevil manner she'd adopted of late, and came very close to being thrown across the room.

But as she had found, having no care for one's own safety and stopping at nothing to achieve one's goals was often quite a successful strategy. Once again, she got what she wanted.

They found the girl after three hours of flying criss-cross above the semi-desert in a light planetary cruiser. No longer a child, but not quite an adolescent, either. Her father lay on the stone-strewn sand, already arranged in the funeral position.

Ene finally forced herself to move toward the cruiser when the girl and her father's body were already aboard. Se'Khor stood beside the cruiser, waiting for her. Suddenly she felt her legs go weak, her feet faltered on a sandy patch of ground and she dropped to her knees.

Moments later, Se'Khor's big, dark-skinned and calloused hand appeared in her field of vision. She didn't look up to him, but gratefully grasped his hand and leaned on it as she shakily got to her feet.

Ene's luck ran out after three and a half months on the Narn Homeworld – longer than she'd expected, in fact. The Centauri found them – quite by accident, apparently – and attacked from all sides. The planetary cruiser of the resistance could no sooner get airborne before it was shot down. The bombing from the two Centauri cruisers overhead didn't last very long, soon enough the ground forces moved in. The Narns' ferocious fighting only served to get them killed faster, since they were surrounded and grossly outnumbered.

Ene didn't bother to fight. Instead, she gathered the four Narn children currently at the refugee centre into the innermost room, locked the doors and set her PPG close at hand. She then sat down on a bench to wait. The children came and wordlessly huddled close to her, for the first time unafraid of the human.

It didn't take them long to break down the doors. She shot and was shot in return, there was pain and nausea, the children were torn from her side, a voice that sounded like hers screamed, her fingernails found flesh and dug into it viciously, she was hit and fell to the floor, she tried to look up and didn't know if she managed it or not, because suddenly a wave of heat coursed through her body, making her nerves tingle and ears ring, and everything went black. And then, finally, there was oblivion.