"The Long Way Home"
July 2269
The Ranger sat in the communication center, in the President's office at Tuzanor. Since he'd been crippled in a battle with the Drakh two years earlier, he'd been put on light duty, and manning the communications equipment was the perfect role for a Ranger who could no longer range.
It was also the perfect job for his other Masters--the Masters who controlled him through the Keeper they had attached to him when they had captured and tortured him. The Ranger often thought it would have been better to have died under that torture rather than live under the rule of the Keeper, but the choice had been taken away from him on that day two years before, and on every day since. The Keeper didn't often intervene in his actions, but when it did, he had no option but to obey. Now was one of those times.
He carefully recorded the incoming message and sent it through to the President's office. Then he sent a copy to his other Masters.
Drowning in self-hatred, the Minbari Ranger once again tried to think of ways to die that his Keeper couldn't stop. The Keeper's laugh echoed in his skull, making it clear that he had no hope of success.
[Home, we're going home!] The thought raced around and around in Gideon's head as the Excalibur rushed through hyperspace. He sat in his chair on the bridge, trying to concentrate on the fuel consumption and crew efficiency reports on his data pad, but failed miserably. He could barely get through a line of text before his pride in his crew and their achievements burst out of him again. [We did it! We found the cure!]
The quest that had taken over two and a half years of searching, constantly aware of how many were dying every day on Earth, was nearly behind them. In a few days they would be home, [Home!] and they could start curing people. More accurately, they could stop people from catching the plague again after they had been cured. The doctors on Earth had been able to cure people for several months now, using the equipment the Excalibur had brought back from Eriadne, but unless those people were removed from Earth and its contaminated atmosphere, they were immediately re-infected.
Now the Excalibur was bringing home the missing piece, the viral screen that could be used to permanently prevent infection by the Drakh plague. On Theta 49, with the co-operation of Robert Black and his colonists, they had finally found the virus they could adapt to become a permanent screen. In gratitude, the Excalibur had stopped at Orion VII for the minutes necessary to transfer some of Black's people to a shuttle, those few who hadn't wished to stay on Theta 49. Then the Excalibur had headed for Earth at top speed, and had now completed five of the nine days it would take them to get home.
The Captain had ordered the crew to full battle alert, and they had stayed on that status since entering hyperspace, but the crew didn't seem to mind. The sense of jubilation that infected everyone on board was almost intoxicating. So many of his crew had families and friends on Earth that nothing could suppress their joy in being the ones who had succeeded in finding the cure.
All too aware that they carried the future of Earth on this single ship, Gideon had ordered a communications blackout as soon as they left the Orion system. If the Drakh found out their location, Gideon was sure that they'd do anything and everything they could to stop his ship from making it home. The cargo they now carried was far too precious to risk for any reason.
Gideon's experience with Senator Redway and the plumber who had accompanied him had made the Captain wary of any potential leak of information that could alert the Drakh to the Excalibur's location. Gideon's lips quirked into a smile as he thought, not for the first time, that plumbers were supposed to fix leaks, not create them. The Captain had sent one carefully coded message to President Sheridan's office, then closed down all outgoing communications. That had hurt like hell, because he could no longer send his daily messages to Deborah. He missed her so much it hurt, and he still hadn't figured out a way for them to be together. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that maybe John Matheson was right, maybe the only solution was to leave Earthforce and join their families on Eriadne.
Looking at John reminded Gideon of the promise he'd made to his XO after their last visit to Eriadne and the birth of their children. "...we're going to find a way to make it happen. Just give me some time, OK? Don't rush into decisions that you'll have a lifetime to regret." John was relying on his Captain to find a solution to their problems, and at this point, the Captain wasn't sure he could do that. Sometimes when they were on the bridge together, Gideon would see a look of sadness and longing on John's face that nearly broke his Captain's heart. Gideon knew that John missed his family as much as he did, and knew he had to find a way for them all to be together again.
Gideon treasured every message and picture he received from Deborah, showing him how his son was growing every day, [And he is improving with age. Maybe he won't scare small children and animals when he grows up,] and he especially enjoyed the ones showing him how Deborah had regained the weight she'd lost when she was pregnant, and recovered her spectacular figure. In her last message, she'd done a slow striptease for the camera, so he could see for himself how her stomach was flat again, although her breasts were still larger than they had been.
Gideon shifted uncomfortably in his chair, as he felt himself becoming aroused just at the memory of that message. He'd made absolutely certain that no copies of that one were recorded into the comm. system! Deborah had ended her message by telling him that she understood why he couldn't reply, but to please hurry back as she missed him. [She misses me? How the hell does she think I feel! I don't send her pictures of me naked!] The thought of his Communications team's reaction if they intercepted such a message brought a brief smile to the Captain's lips, just as his XO turned to look at him.
"Gas, Captain?" John Matheson's teasing smile showed that he'd never let Gideon forget that excuse.
"No. Just planning out the next battle drill I'm going to put you all through. I thought this time, Lieutenant, you might like to lead a troop through the recycling plant, so you can surprise Jackson and her people on the flight deck. How does that appeal?"
Matheson's quiet moan of dismay gave Gideon far more pleasure than he knew he ought to feel. [That'll teach you.] He was just about to continue torturing his First Officer for his own pleasure and the entertainment of the bridge crew, when he saw Matheson's hand move to the earpiece of his headset.
"We're receiving a distress call, Captain." Matheson paused, listening. Gideon waited impatiently for more details. "It's a Drazi passenger transport. Forty passengers and crew on board. They've had total engine failure in hyperspace, can't jump back to normal space, and are drifting off the beacon. They seem to be caught in some sort of hyperspace vortex, which is pulling them in."
Gideon stood abruptly. "How long until they lose contact with the beacon? And how long for us to get to them?"
Matheson spoke quietly into his headset and waited for a response. "They'll be out of range of the beacon in four hours, and it will take us three hours to reach them." He looked up at his CO, frowning. "But if we change course to go after them, by the time we reach them, stop, get them on board, get back up to speed and resume our original course, we'll have lost over half a day."
The Captain frowned. He'd never ignored a distress signal, had never left anyone behind, but how many people would die on Earth because of that delay? Could Gideon risk those lives to save forty Drazi? But how could the Excalibur leave, knowing that by doing so they were condemning those forty souls to die? Gideon remembered a time when Max Eilerson had asked him if he would sacrifice a few hundred Narns to save Earth. The Captain hadn't answered the question then and had hoped he would never have to answer it. Now it looked as if he would have to make his choice. Could Gideon allow forty Drazi to die, knowing he could have saved them? Could he justify their inevitable deaths by pleading that many more lives might be saved by his arriving at Earth a few hours earlier? Gideon looked at his XO, "Is there no one else in range? No one else who can help them?"
Matheson shook his head sadly, obviously aware of the dilemma faced by his Captain. "No, Sir. In four hours, they'll be irretrievably lost."
Gideon took a deep breath and decided. To hell with the math. "Change course, Lieutenant. We're going after them." He then made a second decision. "I'm going down to Medbay. I'll be there if you need me."
If a sense of elation pervaded the Excalibur, then the source of that jubilation was Medbay. As Gideon walked in, he couldn't help but smile at the grins everyone there wore. For a moment, he could have sworn that Deborah must be there, projecting happiness, as there didn't seem to be any other explanation for the euphoria that permeated the whole place.
The Captain walked through to Dr. Chambers' office, nodding at members of her team as he went, returning their smiles. Everyone there knew what a miracle they had achieved. They had found the cure, and they were taking it home. Gideon still thought another miracle had occurred with the Excalibur getting away from Theta 49 without murder being done, either to his crew or to Black's colonists. The conditions they had all worked under had led to almost intolerable pressure on everyone, and friction between the medical team and the colonists had built to explosive heights. Somehow, they'd kept it together, somehow they carried on working, and somehow they'd achieved their goal. If ever a group of people deserved to feel happy and proud, it was Sarah Chambers and her medical team.
Gideon found Sarah at her desk, still working, still searching. He knew that she felt they hadn't done enough, that the cure they had found wasn't the right cure. Since the deaths of her sister and niece two months before, Sarah had been driving herself to the limit, and perhaps a little beyond. Gideon was deeply concerned about her, and had shared those concerns with Alwyn, asking the elderly Technomage to watch out for Sarah, to try to get her to slow down. Alwyn had agreed to do his best, but from what the Captain could see, his Chief Medical Officer was driving herself as hard as ever.
She looked up as Gideon entered her office and gave him a brief, distracted smile before looking back at the data pad in front of her, saying, "Is it urgent, Captain? I'm rather busy right..." she trailed off as Gideon reached over and took the data pad from her, turning it face down on her desk.
"Yes, it is urgent, but not so urgent that you need to kill yourself. When did you last go off duty? When did you last sleep? Sarah, I need a CMO who isn't running on empty. So put the data pad aside, lean back, close your eyes and relax for two minutes, while I get us both coffee. That's an order." Gideon smiled, then turned to go to the main Medbay and get the coffee.
As he turned, he nearly ran into Alwyn, who had been standing immediately behind him. Gideon started, then said, "I used to tell Galen that I was going to put a bell on him, so I could hear him coming. Looks like I'm going to have to do the same to you."
Alwyn's smile was slow and full of malicious promise. "I would love to see you try, Captain. I promise I'll send all the important parts of you back to Demon, for her to treasure."
Gideon smiled weakly and slid past the Technomage, saying, "Don't go anywhere. I need to speak to both of you. I'll be right back."
Returning with three cups of coffee, he found Sarah leaning back in her chair, her eyes closed, while Alwyn stood behind her, massaging her shoulders. Lifting an eyebrow in Alwyn's direction, he got a stony glare back. Gideon knew that the Technomage had what could be called 'feelings' towards his doctor, and he could see that Sarah was fond of the old man, in a joking, tolerant sort of way. The Captain hoped that one day Chambers might feel more than that, as he was sure that Alwyn could provide her with the friendship, comfort, and support that she desperately needed. He told himself to mind his own business for once, and handed out coffee.
Gideon perched on the edge of Sarah's desk and looked at the Technomage. "Alwyn, I need a favor."
Alwyn snorted in amusement. "Hardly a novelty, is it? I seem to have been doing you favors since we met, Captain. I still haven't sent you my bill for delivering your son."
Gideon smiled faintly and shook his head. "No joke this time, Alwyn. I need you to leave, right now, and I need you to take Sarah with you." He quieted Chambers' startled protest and went on to explain about the Drazi distress signal. He started to pace the office as he continued, "The timing stinks. Just when we're on our way home with the final piece of the cure, we get dragged off on a mercy mission. Well, call me suspicious, but I get an uncomfortable feeling about this sort of synchronicity. It may be coincidence, but my gut tells me to be careful. So I want you two to copy every bit of data we have on the cure, everything you need to deliver it to Earth, and I want you off this ship."
The Captain turned to Alwyn who had been listening carefully. The Technomage had been nodding his agreement to Gideon's suggestion. "Alwyn, whatever happens to the Excalibur, you have to get Sarah and that data back to Earth. I know that your ship isn't as fast as the Excalibur, so if this is just a straightforward rescue mission, we'll catch up with you about a day out from Sol system, and we can all go home together. I hope to God that's what happens, and that I'm just being paranoid, but I can't take any risks with a cargo as precious as this."
He looked straight into the Technomage's eyes, knowing that Alwyn would understand his meaning. The precious cargo wasn't just the data, but also the doctor who had worked it all out. There was no one else in the galaxy who would take care of Sarah as carefully and as well as Alwyn. Gideon had considered sending Sarah on ahead in a shuttle or a fighter, but those vehicles could only exit hyperspace through a jump gate and would be slower than Alwyn's ship. Anyway, the Captain was sure that the Technomage could protect Sarah far better than any escort the Excalibur could give her.
Alwyn nodded seriously, accepting the burden of trust that Gideon had just placed on him, then looked down at Sarah, who sat in front of the Mage, his hands still resting gently on her shoulders. "Well, my dear, it looks like we're off on a journey together. How long will it take you to pack?"
Sarah smiled and lifted her hand to rest over Alwyn's on her shoulder. "About an hour to copy all the data and two minutes to throw some essentials into a bag." She looked across at Gideon, who was watching the Technomage's face as he looked down at where Sarah's hand rested on his own. That face was suffused with such longing and sadness that Gideon could only hope that one day these two people might be more than friends. He started to leave the office when Sarah called him back.
"Captain? Are you sure about this? Send the data with Alwyn by all means, but I should be here with my team. The Drazi may be hurt or injured, in which case, you're going to need me."
Gideon shook his head as he stood. "Earth needs you more, Sarah. You have a great team here, and you've trained them well. They can cope on a straightforward rescue mission. In all probability, we'll pick you up in a couple of days, and they'll be telling you what a wonderful job they did without you." He paused at the door on his way out and said, smiling, "Now get going. I want you off my ship in an hour."
The Captain walked back toward the bullet car, satisfied that he could now tackle the rescue mission, knowing that the cure was safely on its way to Earth. Whatever happened to him and his ship, he knew that Alwyn would get Sarah safely home.
The Drazi ship hung on the edge of a hyperspace vortex that was slowly but surely dragging them into its heart. In the three hours it had taken the Excalibur to reach them, the Drazi had drifted well off the beacon. In another hour, they would have gone beyond the limits of the beacon's signal and would have been lost forever. Matheson had spent the last hour or so making sure that everything was prepared for the rescue. The shuttles were prepped for take-off as soon as they got within range, ready to evacuate the passengers. The fighter wings were ready for launch to provide escort and Medbay was standing by to take in survivors.
The XO had been a little surprised when his Captain had given the order to put the fighters on stand by. It wasn't standard practice for a rescue mission, but he understood Gideon's concerns. Maybe they were both being paranoid, but Matheson agreed that the timing of that distress call was suspicious. He'd been relieved when Gideon had told him about Alwyn's departure with Dr. Chambers and all the data they had on the viral screen, and it had amused him a little that his usually somewhat reckless Captain was being so cautious. There had certainly been no need to say 'turnips' to him on this occasion, which gave John cause for mild regret. He always enjoyed his Captain's reaction to the word 'turnip', especially when it was merited. Matheson admonished himself. He knew that Gideon never took unnecessary risks when it came to really important issues, such as the safety of the crew or their mission. It was only his own neck, and sometimes that of his XO, with which he gambled.
The voices droned in John's headset, giving him continuous data about the state of the ship, and the hyperspace surrounding it. It was the XO's job to filter all that data and report the important things to his Captain. He held the headset to his ear, concentrating, then turned to Gideon, who sat waiting in his Captain's chair, and said, "We're in range. Rescue can commence on your order."
Gideon stood and barked, "Launch fighters." He paused for a few seconds, watching the images of the Star Furies appear on the viewscreen, positioning themselves in a defensive perimeter around the Excalibur and the Drazi ship, then said, "Launch shuttles."
Matheson listened carefully for a few moments, then reported, "Shuttles away." He reminded Gideon of the plan to which they had agreed. "Shuttles 2 and 3 will make one journey each. Shuttle 1 will have to return to pick up a second load." It was unfortunate that the three shuttles they had on board did not have the capacity to take all forty Drazi in one journey, but they had assigned Trace Miller as pilot of Shuttle 1 and he could fly better and faster than any other pilot on board. He would get the first load back and be out again before Shuttles 2 and 3 returned.
Gideon nodded at Matheson's reminder and called for Communications to open a channel to the Drazi vessel. They had maintained communications silence so far, not wishing to alert anyone to their whereabouts, but now they needed to let the Drazi ship know their plans. Matheson waited for confirmation then turned to his Captain, "Channel open, Captain." The Drazi Captain's face appeared in the view screen at the front of the bridge.
His first words were aggressive, just as Matheson had anticipated. The Drazi language didn't have a word for discretion, showing that the race was totally unfamiliar with the concept. "Who are you? Why didn't you tell us you were coming?"
Gideon gave back as good as he got. "This is the Earth Alliance Ship Excalibur, Matthew Gideon commanding, and if our presence offends you, we can leave. If you want us to stay, open another channel and my First Officer will give instructions to whomever you want to put in charge of your rescue. Then you and I can argue about how much notice you require before you allow us to save you."
The Drazi glared, but waved at one of the crew who was visible behind him, and a voice started talking in Matheson's ear. Well, ranting would have been a better word, but the XO soon cut through his words and started making the necessary arrangements with what turned out to be the Drazi pilot.
Matheson was half aware that Gideon was keeping the argument with the Drazi Captain going, exchanging insults and threats, as was necessary to gain the Drazi's respect and cooperation. As a race, they were suspicious to the point of paranoia, extremely aggressive and they only respected people who would stand up to them and show themselves to be just as aggressive. [Perhaps we should get Mr. Eilerson up here to negotiate. He and the Drazi are a perfect match.] John quickly suppressed the smile that went with that thought.
By the time Shuttle 1 was docking with the disabled Drazi ship, Matheson had agreed on an evacuation plan with the pilot, and Gideon had won the grudging respect of the Drazi Captain, who ungraciously agreed to allow them to rescue him and his people. The pilot gave Matheson data on the condition of the passengers and crew as they started to load Shuttle 1 with those people who could move fastest.
Gideon, meanwhile, started negotiating with the Drazi on the fee they were going to charge for the rescue. Matheson knew that the fee would never be levied or collected, but he also knew that the Drazi would be deeply offended if their rescue were offered free of charge. That would imply that their lives were worth nothing. By demanding an outrageous sum for the costs of the rescue, Gideon had soothed the Drazis' pride, and ensured their continued cooperation in a fast and smooth evacuation.
The Lieutenant now had data that he needed to give to his Captain, so turned to attract his attention. Gideon cut the Drazi Captain off, saying he'd consider the latest offer made. He turned to Matheson and nodded for him to continue.
"Shuttle 1 is on its way back, Shuttle 2 is just docking with the Drazi ship. Of the forty passengers and crew, the ten on Shuttle 1 are the only ones relatively fit and uninjured. When the engines failed, life support went with them. The atmosphere in the ship has become contaminated with coolants and everyone on board has respiratory problems to some degree-- even the Captain, though he's hiding it well. They'll all need to be treated in Medbay as soon as we get them on board."
Gideon nodded again. "Brief the Medbay team we have standing by outside the landing bay. They'll need to make sure they have the appropriate equipment on hand, and get as much information about the nature of the contamination as you can."
Matheson started to carry out his orders as the Captain waved at Communications to re-establish his channel to the Drazi ship. The XO heard Gideon's opening words, then concentrated on his own job.
"Well, Captain Grensa, it looks like the fee for your rescue just went up. We'll need to figure in the cost of the medical treatment."
Gideon sat back in his chair when he'd finished haggling with the Drazi Captain, thinking while he watched the rescue progress. If this was a Drakh trap, just how had it been set? Grensa had told him that the Drazi ship had left their home world two days before. If the Drakh had somehow intercepted his message to Sheridan, that would have given them three days to work out the Excalibur's most direct route home, identify a ship that would be traveling in that sector of hyperspace, and sabotage it. The timing was tight, but not impossible. So despite the smoothness with which everything had run so far, this could still be a trap.
As long as they had shuttles moving between the two ships, the Excalibur was effectively dead in space. They couldn't run unless they were willing to leave the shuttles behind, and Gideon was sure that the Drakh knew enough about him by now to know that he would never do that. He suspected that they knew enough about him to have set up this whole situation, knowing that he would find it impossible to ignore a distress call.
The Captain had done everything he could to prepare for the trap. All his guns were manned and on standby, his fighters were out and on full alert. The message buoy with every piece of data, right up to the point of their starting the rescue, was ready. It would be launched in the event of the destruction of the ship, waiting silently until it detected an Earthforce vessel, then signaling its presence. That buoy held his farewell message to Deborah and his son, with a request to Earthforce to deliver it to her on Eriadne. While the thought of dying and never seeing her again was bad enough, the thought of her never knowing what had happened to him was far worse. Gideon desperately wanted her to know that he hadn't deserted her, that he would never have abandoned her to raise their son alone, so he'd snatched a few moments to record the message and included it in the buoy. John had done the same for Luke and Lily. It was all they could do for their families.
The Captain watched as Shuttles 2 and 3 returned with their passengers and Shuttle 1 docked with the Drazi ship to take on the last set of survivors. As soon as Trace brought home that last shuttle, Gideon planned to slam shut the landing bay doors and get the hell out of that sector of hyperspace as fast as the engines could take him. He had a bad feeling about this.
Matheson turned to look at him and reported, "Spatial disturbances detected, Captain. Jump points opening."
[Shit!] Gideon checked quickly on the sensor readings; the shuttle was halfway back to the ship. The Excalibur wasn't going anywhere for at least another five minutes. [You'd better move your ass, Trace!] The bastards must have known exactly where his ship was all the time and had been sitting in normal space, waiting for the time when the Excalibur couldn't move and was most vulnerable. Well, the timing was a little off. They had two out of the three shuttles back, thirty of the Drazi on board, and just had to hold out for a few more minutes before they could run for their lives.
"How many?" Gideon could only pray that they hadn't had time to get a whole fleet into position to attack him. If they had, his ship and his crew were all dead.
"Five." John's voice was flat as he delivered the news. Bad enough, but it could have been worse. They still had a fighting chance. Gideon watched as the sensors showed the five Drakh ships jumping in at strategic points around him. Shuttle 1 had just reached the landing bay doors. The Excalibur started firing at the enemy, and the fighters moved to intercept the smaller craft the Drakh destroyers had launched.
"As soon as that shuttle's backside is inside the landing bay doors, shut them and move. Don't wait for Trace to set it down. We'll have to rely on the gravimetric fields to stop it from crashing into the walls and ripping us to pieces. Tell Trace what we're doing and go!" Gideon barked out the orders and followed them with a heading that would take them directly into the path of the largest Drakh ship. As soon as he had confirmation that the shuttle was inside, he gave the next order. "Jump engines on line, full power to thrusters. Ramming speed--straight down their throats. Bring the fighters into tight formation. Keep them close."
With all guns still firing, and the hull ringing and shaking with the hits the Excalibur was taking, she started to move toward the Drakh mother-ship. Gideon hung onto his seat, checking his command console to make sure that all his fighters had moved in close, and when they were moving at top speed and seconds away from collision with the Drakh ship, he yelled, "Jump!"
The jump point opened in front of them, and they dropped through into normal space, leaving their pursuers behind--for now. Gideon knew that he'd only bought them a few moments, but he was going to make the most of them to get as much space between him and his pursuers as he could get. As soon as his jump engines were recharged, he planned to dive back into hyperspace and run as fast as he could.
What Gideon saw on his console made him groan in despair. The Drakh had only sent half of their forces into hyperspace after him. There were five more destroyers waiting for him in normal space. The Excalibur's sudden burst of speed in hyperspace had taken her outside the attack formation that had been waiting for them, and only that unexpected maneuver had saved them from instant destruction. Coming out of hyperspace at a different position than that the Drakh had anticipated meant it took the enemy a few seconds to shift into position and fire into the heart of the jump point behind the Excalibur.
The explosion behind them as the jump point detonated threw the Excalibur end over end like a toy. Their accompanying fighters were scattered like dandelion seeds on the wind. Gideon felt himself flying out of his chair, felt the sickening pain in his right shoulder as it crunched into his command console, a pain that faded almost instantly as the left side of his head smacked into the deck that rose up to meet him. Then he felt nothing.
Janie Ferguson helped the last of the Drazis into Medbay. They had run out of beds, and the less incapacitated of the survivors sat on the floor, coughing raspingly, while those more severely hurt were being treated on the beds. Taking forty patients at once strained Medbay's capacity to the limit, and they had called in every member of the medical team, on or off duty, to help cope. Janie had felt very proud when Sarah Chambers had left her in charge of Medbay, but she was now beginning to worry about her ability to cope. The whole ship rocking under the blasts of the attack wasn't helping them treat the injured Drazis.
Janie was trying to get a respirator mask on the Drazi Captain when he looked her straight in the eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry." She couldn't understand what he was apologizing for, until she felt the sharp pain and looked down to see the knife buried in her chest. Her last thought was that he must have had some knowledge of human anatomy, as he had stabbed her straight in the heart.
Captain Grensa looked around the room, awash with the blood of their human victims, and howled in despair. He screamed in anguish, "Are you satisfied? Now will you let us die?"
The voice in his head laughed back at him. [You have served your purpose and your Masters well.]
That voice had been in his head constantly since his ship had been captured two days before. He, his crew and his passengers, had all been taken aboard a Drakh ship and held down while 'things' had been attached to them. Since that time, his body and his mind had been relentlessly controlled. Grensa had fought the control at every moment, but the thing attached to his neck had never let go, never relaxed for a moment.
Grensa had watched, unable to do anything, as the thing that controlled his body had moved his ship to a point in hyperspace. Watched as members of his crew had sabotaged their own engines and released coolants into the air, chemicals that would kill them all in a few days. Watched as he, himself, had sent out the distress signal that he had known was designed to lure someone to this point, into the trap the Drakh had prepared.
Grensa had listened to his own voice, haggling with the Excalibur's Captain over the price of their rescue, and despaired. He couldn't warn them, he couldn't do anything other than watch his own body being used by the alien monster that now controlled it.
He had thought it couldn't get worse, but when they finally arrived in the Excalibur's Medbay, it did. The whole ship had been ringing and shaking under the attack but the humans still tried to care for him and his people. Grensa knew that the Drazi would never have placed human lives above their own safety, and he had felt ashamed. That shame had turned to horror as he'd seen his own hand shifting inside his jacket and withdrawing the knife that had been hidden there. A part of his mind had registered the fact that any more sophisticated weapon would have been detected by the scanners a ship such as the Excalibur would inevitably have in its landing bay. But a non-metallic knife went undetected, and it was all that had been needed to kill the unarmed, defenseless human woman who had been trying to help him.
When the humans were dead, Grensa had watched as his body had been moved to a computer console and his fingers moved over the panel. He hadn't understood the detail of the commands he had input, but he could see that he had fed some sort of virus into the computer, a virus that had spread and deleted every piece of data it encountered. The virus seemed to focus itself solely on medical data, leaving all other aspects of the ship's operation untouched, avoiding any alarm systems that might have detected its progress.
When the medical databanks were completely wiped, Grensa howled his despair and looked around the Medbay, seeing the other Drazis looking back, their faces showing their shame and horror at what they'd been forced to do. Every human in the place lay dead, by their hands. Grensa looked down to see his own hand, still clutching the bloody knife, moving toward his throat. A quick glance around the room showed him that every other Drazi present was being moved in the same way.
The voice in his head spoke softly. [Yes, you can die. In fact, you must die. It may comfort you to know that we die with you.]
The knife slashed across his throat, and Grensa fell to the floor, watching his life's blood pumping out, to mix with the human blood that already coated everything. He felt the thing on his neck detach itself and watched as it scurried into the pool of red in front of him. It stopped, flexed its tentacles once, then dissolved in front of his eyes, until nothing remained.
Grensa's last thought was that no one would ever know that he wasn't responsible for the atrocity that had been committed here.
Gideon shook his head as he came around and wished he hadn't. The pain in his head and the pain in his shoulder were roughly equal and equally agonizing. He stumbled to his feet, half aware that he couldn't move his right arm, and staggered to the front of the bridge. He realized that he'd only been unconscious for a few seconds. The Excalibur was still tumbling crazily through space, with the Drakh ships heading straight for them.
A quick glance around the bridge showed him that half of the crew was either unconscious or dead at their posts, and the other half in not much better condition than he was. His eyes paused for a split second as he noticed Matheson's body, flung up against a bulkhead, with those parts of his face not covered in blood looking totally white. With a quick prayer that John was only hurt, not dead, Gideon turned his attention back to the consoles in front of him.
He hit the communication controls and sent out a call for medics and the emergency bridge crew to report ASAP, then reached for his Second Officer and helmsman, who lay slumped across his console. Pulling the crewman upright with his left hand, Gideon knew that the man had to be dead. He'd left half of his face and some of his brains smeared across the panel. Murmuring an apology beneath his breath, the Captain pushed the helmsman's body out of his seat, and took his place. Wiping the mess of blood and brains aside with his sleeve, Gideon gave silent thanks that he'd worn his jacket with sleeves that day. The thought of doing that with his bare arm made him shudder, as he tried to bring the ship under control, operating one-handed and left-handed at that.
He became aware that someone had slipped into the seat next to him and looked around to see Lieutenant Jackson taking over the weapons controls. Gideon managed a pained half grin and said, "Get the guns firing and try to gather the fighters back together. See how many we have left, while I get us back on an even keel."
Looking back up into the viewscreen, Gideon could see the five Drakh ships still coming at them. He shook his head again to clear it and gasped at Jackson, "Where in hell are the medics? Why aren't they up here?"
Jackson kept focused on her task as she reported brusquely, "We had reports of fighting in Medbay. I sent Marines there to tackle it, and I'm waiting for their report now, sir."
As Gideon fought for control over his ship, his head spinning nearly as fast as the Excalibur, he thought, [Oh fuck! I let in a Trojan horse. Those bastard Drazis were part of the whole damned plot. I'll kill every one of them. I'll hang them from the roof of the landing bay and to hell with Earthforce regs!]
It was partly the Excalibur's eccentric motion that had kept them alive so long. The Drakh had been unable to bring their weapons to bear on a target that was moving so erratically, but Gideon knew the strain that motion was putting on his ship would soon become intolerable and she'd tear herself apart. Slowly, using thrusters, he brought the ship under control, while Jackson kept the guns firing and brought the remaining fighters back into the battle.
Reports started to flood in from damage control teams all over the ship and the news ranged from bad to horrendous. Jump engines were out, most of the main engine power had failed and the Excalibur was holed in a dozen places. The only power they had left was to thrusters, life support was struggling, and if they kept firing their guns at the current rate, they would use all their energy reserves in less than an hour. Over half of his crew was injured, many incapable of carrying out their duties, but somehow they kept fighting. Gideon had never been as proud of his people as he was at that moment.
Jackson's voice broke his concentration as he tried to maneuver away from the oncoming Drakh ships. "Jump points opening, Captain."
The original five Drakh attackers dropped out of hyperspace behind them. They were now totally surrounded.
Gideon whispered, "Oh, fuck it," and heard Jackson's murmured reply.
"Amen to that."
The Captain took a deep breath and looked around at the young, dark Lieutenant sitting next to him. "Let's take some of the bastards out with us."
Jackson swallowed and nodded, looking at him anxiously, waiting for her orders. Gideon knew she was well aware that they were going to die, and she was barely holding it together. She was looking to him to provide her death with some meaning.
Gideon programmed a heading straight at the largest of their attackers, awkwardly sluggish with his left hand, and hit every thruster his ship had left working. Their movement was painfully slow. A garbage scow could have evaded them at that speed, but he wanted the Drakh to think that was all they had left. He wanted them to think that this pitiful attempt to ram the Drakh mother-ship was his last desperate gamble. Well, not quite. He had one card left up his sleeve, and it was an ace.
"Bring the main gun on line." He whispered the command, and Jackson looked startled. She hadn't noticed that in the litany of damage reports they'd received, no mention had been made of the main gun. It was still fully functional, but would take every last erg of energy the ship had. Gideon didn't think that this time he'd get power back in one minute as the designers promised, but that hardly mattered. In the one minute they were dead in space, the Drakh would blow them to pieces. But they were going to do that anyway, so he may as well take at least one of the enemy with him. Gideon wanted an honor guard when he entered Valhalla, or they might not let him in.
The Captain continued quietly, "Tell the fighters to scatter and hide. If they're lucky, someone will turn up looking for us before they run out of oxygen and power."
Jackson nodded, gave the orders to the fighters and powered up the main gun. Then they sat and watched as they slowly approached the enemy. In the back of Gideon's mind, a part of him was screaming at a God he wasn't sure existed.
[Why now? Why didn't you take me ten years ago when you had the chance? Why did you have to wait until I had so much more to lose? Does that give you some sort of perverse pleasure? To wait until I have some hope of happiness, some chance of a future that doesn't end in total despair, then snatch it all away? And just to add another little twist of agony you decide to take John, too. After all the battles he's fought, the prejudice, the pain, the loneliness, he finally finds the chance of happiness and that's not allowed. You grab it back, you take his life and the lives of everyone on this ship, right at the moment when we've done what we had to, achieved the impossible--saved humanity. None of that is good enough, is it? So you punish us by killing us all. Well, damn you. Damn you to hell! I'm going down fighting!]
The Drakh mother-ship was in range, obviously contemptuous of the wreck approaching it, as it hadn't even tried to fire on them.
"Fire main gun."
Gideon's last sight as the viewscreen grayed out was the Drakh mother-ship being speared on the end of the lightning bolt that emerged from the main gun. All power died in the Excalibur. She had given up the last of her energy in that one killing blast. The lights dimmed and the control panels in front of the Captain faded and died.
Gideon waited to die with his ship.
And waited.
And waited.
Nothing happened.
No fiery blast. No screaming death. Nothing. There was only darkness and silence until Gideon began to wonder if he'd died so quickly that he hadn't noticed, and this was the afterlife. The whisper from beside him banished that idea from his mind.
"Captain?" Jackson sounded scared.
Well, she had every right to be scared. Gideon almost laughed. He was more scared than he'd ever been in his life before and that included the time he'd spent hanging in space, waiting to die, after the Cerberus had been destroyed. But Captains weren't allowed to be afraid. Correction. Captains weren't allowed to show that they were afraid, so he swallowed hard and made sure his voice didn't quaver as he said, "Lieutenant?"
Her whisper sounded loud in the silence and darkness. "Are we still alive?"
Gideon laughed, but it sounded uncertain even to him. "I guess so. Just don't ask me how, OK? I haven't a clue."
A tiny glow in the panel in front of him alerted Gideon to the fact that power was returning to his ship. As the lights came back on, the viewscreen flickered and the image that appeared there spoke.
"That is such a typical male weapon, Captain. One big bang, then you're useless for anything afterwards."
Gideon started to laugh and this time it sounded slightly hysterical, so he clamped down on it. "Captain Ivanova, has anyone ever told you that you are the most beautiful woman in the galaxy?" He saw a momentary flicker of pain in her face and hurried on, "Where are you? How in the hell did you get here? Are you the reason we're not dead?"
Ivanova smiled. "My ship, the John Procter, and two other Warlock class destroyers were requested by President Sheridan to provide you with an honor escort home. We have another three Earthforce destroyers with us, and we are now busy whipping the asses off these Drakh bastards, who have messed up your ship. Yes, we're the reason you're not dead, and any time you feel like joining in the fight with that flying phallic symbol of yours, feel free. We took two of them out when we jumped in and took them by surprise. With the mother-ship you destroyed, that leaves seven of them to six of us, so if you'd care to try and get that main gun up again, we could do with the help."
Gideon grinned back at her. "I might be useless for a short while after I've fired my main gun, but you'd be amazed at how quickly I can get it up again."
Ivanova's grin was challenging. "Let's hope you can do more than talk, Captain. Ivanova out."
The screen went blank as Gideon turned to Jackson, who sat next to him with a grin nearly as wide as his. "I hope to God I haven't overstated our prowess. Do we have anything left, Lieutenant?"
Jackson nodded, so Gideon looked back at the tactical display, now able to see what had happened while they had been blacked out. The six Earthforce ships had jumped into normal space all around the Excalibur, setting up a defensive ring around their wounded colleague. Taking the Drakh totally by surprise, they had destroyed two of the enemy ships immediately, and Gideon could see the debris fields that marked where those ships had been. They had then joined battle with the Drakh.
The three Warlock class ships, the John Proctor, the Giles Corey and the George Burroughs, were holding their own, but the older ships, the Chiron, Demeter and Thetis, were struggling against stronger opponents. If the Excalibur could help, those ships needed it.
Using the little power he had left in thrusters, Gideon turned the Excalibur until it faced the Chiron's opponents. Two ships of the Drakh fleet were attacking the smaller ship. Gideon targeted his main gun on the larger of the two and fired. His ship seemed to die again, and this time it took even longer before power came back up. He just had to trust the other Earthforce ships to keep the enemy off his back while he was dead in space. Somehow they did, and when he could get readings up again, Gideon could see that another two shots would drain them of everything other than basic life support, at least until they could get the main engines repaired. So be it.
During their blackout, the Giles Corey had taken out another of the Drakh, so the enemy was now down to five ships. Now the Earthforce ships had the upper hand. Gideon fired again and waited out the silence and darkness that followed.
This time, when sensors returned, he could see that they'd won. Only two Drakh ships remained, and the Chiron, George Burroughs, and Thetis were closing in on one, while the John Proctor, Giles Corey, and Demeter had the other ship surrounded. Gideon watched in satisfaction as the two remaining enemies were destroyed. He hadn't had to totally drain his ship, he still had enough energy to run life support, maintain the sensors and even run the bullet cars.
Now he had to find out just how badly his ship and crew had been hurt. He tried to call Medbay to find out what was going on, but got no response. Finally, he made contact with his Master at Arms, who had led the Marines who had been sent in to sort out the disturbance. "Sergeant Healy? What's going on down there? We have wounded up here on the bridge and we need medics." From the corner of his eye, Gideon saw John Matheson stirring and sent silent thanks to the God he'd been cursing a short time before.
Healy's voice was hesitant. "I think you'd better get down here, Captain. And if any of the other ships has medics to spare, I think we'd better get them over here."
Gideon pushed upright from the helm station, using his left arm to help himself stand. During the battle and the euphoria of survival, he had almost forgotten his injuries, but now the pain came flooding back. All of his muscles had stiffened as he'd sat at the console, and every single one of them protested at his movement. Just to make his life complete, he had a thumping headache and his right shoulder was sending shooting pains through his chest, which made breathing difficult. Gideon wondered if he might have cracked some ribs when he'd hit the command console during his flight out of his chair. [No time to worry about that now. Whatever's broken can get fixed later.]
Jackson turned and looked up at him anxiously as he stood. "Do you need some help, Captain? Should I call someone?"
Gideon shook his head. "I'll live. Call the fighters back in, will you? Contact the John Proctor and arrange for Captain Ivanova to start sending medics across here, and can you get the damage control teams working on trying to put the ship back together again? I know Lieutenant Matheson has been overseeing your training, but has he taken you through the drills you need?"
Jackson nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir. I can do that, sir. Is there anything else you need me to do?"
The Captain smiled at the young junior Lieutenant, grateful for her energy and enthusiasm. [I'm glad someone around here has some, because I'm clean out of both,] he thought as he told her to carry on supervising the repair work and call him in Medbay if she needed anything.
He turned to see that John Matheson had struggled up and was now sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. Gideon suspected that John's headache probably matched his own. He walked over to where John was sitting and squatted in front of his XO, groaning slightly as the muscles in his back and legs communicated just how much they hated being moved.
Matheson looked up and tried to focus on his Captain, but Gideon could see that the Lieutenant was still half out of it. "John? Can you hear me? I think you have a concussion and I probably shouldn't move you, but I don't think we're going to get you any treatment up here for a while. So if you can stand, I want to get you to Medbay. Do you understand?"
The XO nodded, then grimaced before speaking very quietly. "Yes, sir. Just don't yell, OK?"
Gideon laughed softly, then stood upright and held out his left hand. "Come on, Lieutenant, we've got work to do. You can't lie around here all day, you know."
Matheson reached for his Captain's hand, pulled himself upright, then let go quickly. Focusing on Gideon again, he wiped some of the blood out of his eyes and hurriedly apologized. "Sorry, Captain. I couldn't help it, when we touched I picked up..." he trailed off in dismay.
"It's OK. I don't think we have many secrets left between us. Can you walk?" Gideon knew that John would have picked up on his pain and the guilt that was nearly overwhelming him, but there was nothing he could do about that. As his XO wobbled slightly, the Captain held him up with his good arm, careful not to make skin contact again.
As they staggered towards the exit, Gideon could see other members of the original bridge crew stirring, being attended by their colleagues, but he could also see three bodies that were totally still. Telling himself that there was nothing he could do, that by getting down to Medbay and finding out what the problem was, he was doing what he was best qualified to do, he half-carried Matheson off the bridge.
Matheson sat on the bullet car, holding his head in his hands. The way it felt right now, he thought it might fall off if he didn't support it in some way. He was still having trouble focusing both his eyes and his thoughts, and was desperately trying to make sense of what was going on around him. It didn't help that his mental screens were not functioning properly, and his head was full of the noise created by the random thoughts of everyone on the Excalibur.
The XO looked across at his Captain, who was leaning back against the wall of the bullet car, his eyes closed. The left side of Gideon's face was a mass of bruising and swelling, and a cut on his temple had bled unchecked down his cheek and neck, soaking into his sweater, the dark red of the blood showing clearly against the brighter red of the uniform. His right arm hung limp at his side and Matheson knew that, at the very least, the shoulder was dislocated, from the angle at which it stuck out. He could feel Gideon's pain from where he sat and wondered how his Captain had kept going for so long when he was in such agony.
Matheson looked back at the floor and tried to pull himself together. Waves of nausea kept sweeping over him, and he knew that he was suffering from concussion. As they had staggered to the bullet car, Gideon had given him a brief description of what had happened after the Excalibur had jumped back to normal space. The XO had tried to take it all in, but still wasn't quite sure what had happened in Medbay. Something about the Drazi they had rescued, but he couldn't figure out why the medics hadn't come to the bridge.
For the moment, Matheson tried to forget that puzzle and concentrated on quelling his nausea. Using the disciplines he'd learned in the Psi Corps, he thought he'd succeeded until the bullet car started to decelerate. The motion was enough to make him feel seriously sick, but he was determined that Gideon wouldn't have to half-carry him again. His Captain had enough problems without having to worry about a First Officer who couldn't stand on his own two feet.
As the bullet car came to a halt, Matheson pushed himself upright and watched Gideon do the same. He waved his Captain away as he offered his one good arm in support. "I'm fine." Even in his current state, Matheson could see the skeptical look on Gideon's face. "OK, so I'm not fine, but I can walk as far as Medbay. Lead the way."
He followed his Captain off the bullet car and down the corridor to Medbay, making sure he stayed in the rear so Gideon wouldn't see him having to put his hand out and lean on the wall to help himself stay on his feet.
Gideon walked ahead of John, well aware that his XO was using the wall for support, but also knowing that John's pride demanded that he make his own way. Arriving at the entrance to Medbay, he was met by Sergeant Healy, who moved quickly to stop him from entering.
Healy looked uninjured, but his complexion was pale and his face drawn. He spoke quickly and quietly. "Before you go in there, Captain, I should warn you that it's a mess. I went in with my men and stayed long enough to check that there's no one left alive, then we got out. We're going to need a full forensics team to go over the place before we can start cleaning up, but there's no one on board qualified to do that now. We're going to have to get help from the other ships."
The Captain tried to take in what Healy was saying to him. Forensics? Well, yes, if some of his people had been killed in there by the Drazi, then technically, it was a murder scene and would have to be fully recorded and documented. But why did they need help from the other ships for that? He had several medical staff who were qualified to carry out such a recording, surely they couldn't all be...
Gideon felt sick, suddenly realizing the enormity of what had happened down here. Only half aware that Matheson had arrived at his side, he spoke quietly to the Sergeant. "Open the doors. I need to do a basic visual inspection for my report to Earthforce. Then we'll seal the place until we can get a forensics team assembled." As Healy went to open the doors, Gideon reached out and touched the Sergeant's arm to attract his attention. "You're sure there's no one alive in there?"
Healy shook his head. "We checked. We picked up a couple of medical scanners and took readings. No one survived."
Gideon swallowed hard and nodded for the Sergeant to open the doors, bracing himself for what lay beyond.
The first thing that hit him was the smell. The overpowering stench of death flowed over him and he heard John start to retch beside him. Then he looked into the room and saw red--literally. Everything he could see was red. Blood coated the floor, the walls, the furniture, the computer consoles--everything. The Medbay was awash with blood. Gideon had seen some appalling sights in his life, helped treat friends hit by PPG blasts, tied tourniquets around limbs half-torn off in battle, but he'd never seen anything this bad.
The bodies he could see from the doorway were slumped in every position imaginable, the humans mainly showing signs of stab wounds to the chest, although some had obviously had their throats slit. Every Drazi he could see had died the same way. Their throats had been cut, deeply, savagely, in some cases deep enough so they were almost decapitated, and Gideon couldn't understand how they had managed to do that to themselves. But it was obvious that they had done so, as every one of them had a knife either still clasped in their hand or close by.
The Captain felt as if he'd been paralyzed. Time seemed to have slowed as he looked through that door into hell. He couldn't move, and he wasn't even sure if he was breathing. A remote part of his mind still functioned and he heard himself thinking, [Shock. This is shock. It's OK. It's normal. Don't panic. You can handle this.]
Gideon wanted to laugh hysterically at his own thoughts. [Handle this? I can handle it? How can I handle it when I did this to them? This is my fault, my responsibility. I let those bastards in and I didn't protect my people. That's my job, that's what I'm supposed to do. I'm supposed to keep my crew safe. I'm not supposed to let them get butchered like animals in an abattoir.] That last thought nearly finished him. The scene in front of him started to blur, and he barely managed to whisper to Healy, "Close the door. Seal it."
Taking deep breaths, Gideon reached out his left hand and leaned on the wall, his head down and his eyes closed while he worked on getting himself back under control. He was half-aware of Healy holding Matheson up, while John vomited repeatedly. [Nice going, Matt, you brought John down here to get him fixed up and you've damn near finished him off.] The shaft of self- hatred and contempt that accompanied the thought gave him the strength he needed to straighten up and turn to Healy.
"Sergeant. Get one of your men to help Lieutenant Matheson to his quarters." He turned and smiled weakly as John protested that he was all right. "John, you're very far from all right."
Matheson straightened and pulled himself away from Healy's support. "I'm in no worse condition than you are, Captain. I'll manage."
Gideon shook his head. "The fact that it's your breakfast decorating the floor right now proves you wrong. Go to your quarters and rest. That's an order. I'll send a medic there are soon as the real emergencies are dealt with, then you can come back and relieve me. OK?" The latter was a sop to John's pride. Gideon knew damn well that as soon as a medic saw John in his current condition, he was going to be signed off from duty for days.
Matheson managed a shaky half-smile and salute. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
One of Healy's men steadied the Lieutenant as he left the corridor. Gideon watched him go, knowing that there was only one reason that his own breakfast wasn't sitting on the deck next to John's. He hadn't eaten breakfast.
The Captain turned to Healy and ordered him to have Medbay sealed and to put a guard on it until the forensic team arrived. Then he staggered to the nearest communication panel, and put a call through to the John Proctor. When Captain Ivanova came on screen, he explained what had happened on board, arranged for a medical investigation team to be assembled, and for his more seriously injured crew to be shuttled over to the other ships.
When he'd done everything he could think of, Gideon straightened and spoke formally. "Captain Ivanova, as you're the senior Captain present, I'm turning myself over to you for remand. A Board of Inquiry will need to establish the degree of negligence involved in this incident, but Earthforce regulations require you to suspend me from duty, pending that Board." He relaxed slightly as he continued, "The problem is that I have no one over here to whom I can pass command. My First Officer is injured and I've sent him off duty. My Second Officer was at the helm when we were attacked, and he's dead. Can you send someone to take over?"
Gideon watched as Ivanova's eyes narrowed. "I'll send someone over, but not to put you on remand. Your injuries need attention, Captain, and we'll discuss the issue of negligence later. For the moment, when Lieutenant Grigoria arrives, he'll relieve you of command while you obtain medical treatment, then we'll see where we go from there. Ivanova out." The screen went blank before Gideon could protest.
Having made his way back to the bridge, Gideon spent the next half-hour working with Jackson on putting his ship and crew back together. The damage the Excalibur had received was significant and would take days to fix. The damage to his crew was worse. Apart from the Medbay massacre, twenty-three crew members had died when the jump point was detonated. Over fifty percent of the survivors had received significant injuries ranging from broken limbs to serious burns. The rest had minor injuries, but there was hardly a person on board who didn't need some form of medical treatment.
The other Earthforce ships had sent every nurse and doctor they could spare and seventy-four of Gideon's people were being evacuated to their Medbays. Engineers from every ship were swarming on board the Excalibur, working with the walking wounded of his own crew to start repairs.
A medic arrived on the bridge, apparently with direct instructions from Ivanova to treat Gideon before she did anything else. The Captain sat quietly in his command chair while she ran a regenerator over his face, feeling the headache that had pounded at him for an eternity fading under the gentle vibrations emitted by the instrument. The medic had just started treating his arm and shoulder when Lieutenant Grigoria arrived. A swarthy, short and stocky man, Gideon was relieved to see that Ivanova had sent him her First Officer. He could relax knowing this man would take care of his ship and his crew. Quietly asking the medic to wait a moment, Gideon stood to greet his replacement and hand over command. As he did so, the world blurred and grayed out, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
When Gideon awoke, he found he was lying on the bunk in his quarters. Looking down at himself, he could see that someone had taken his boots off and removed his jacket and sweater. When he remembered using his sleeve to wipe up his Second Officer's brains, Gideon could only feel grateful, and hoped that the jacket had been taken away and burned. Puzzled at first as to why his sweater had been removed, he then saw that his arm had been immobilized by an almost invisible, transparent plastic brace fitted around his shoulder, pinning his right arm to his chest. If they'd done that with the sweater on, he might have been wearing the garment for days: blood, sweat, and all.
Pushing himself upright with his left arm, Gideon swung his feet to the floor, then sat still while a wave of dizziness passed. He lifted his hand to touch the left side of his face, probing carefully. It didn't hurt and as far as he could tell, any swelling had gone. Maybe he could face the sight of himself in the mirror after all. He struggled to his feet and made his way across the room to see just how bad he looked.
The image that looked back surprised him. Whatever cuts and bruises he'd suffered to his face had completely healed. There were no signs of injury and no pain where he'd head-butted the floor of the bridge. Only his hazel eyes looked mortally wounded as they stared back at him from the mirror.
His shoulder and arm were another matter. Gideon gave silent thanks that he'd been unconscious when his dislocated shoulder had been put back into its socket. He knew that would have hurt like hell. The skin on his shoulder, back and front, was still darkened by bruising and he could see other marks down the length of his ribcage and along his right collarbone. Given how effective the regenerators were, the Captain guessed that he must have broken the collarbone as well as cracked some ribs. The whole area was still very sore, but at least he could now breathe freely.
Gideon checked the time and realized that he'd only been out for a few hours. As he moved to the wardrobe and pulled out a T-shirt, he wondered what had been happening to his ship and crew while he'd been unconscious. He managed to pull the T-shirt over his head and got his left arm through the sleeve, then pulled the other side down over his right shoulder and arm. It was a tight fit, but he could just get it on. Looking at his boots, the thought of trying to get them on and fasten them, using only his left hand, was too exhausting. The Captain gave up and walked barefoot through to the living area of his quarters, slumping down into the chair behind his desk.
"Computer on. Access..." before he could continue, Captain Ivanova's image appeared on the screen and spoke.
"I've recorded this message to appear as soon as you try to use the computer. It will also alert me that you're awake. My ship's doctor has signed you off-duty until she pronounces you fit again, and I mean off- duty, so I've had your access to the ship's logs blocked until I release them. Don't even think about trying to leave your quarters until I say you can. You're not on remand or under arrest, but if that's what I have to do to make sure you give yourself some recovery time, I'll do it. So if you don't want to spend the next few days kicking your heels in the brig, I suggest you relax, put on some music, read a book, or do whatever you normally do to unwind. If that usually involves a partner, tough."
Ivanova's grin was wicked as she went on, "You'll have to play patience, Captain, not poker." Gideon snorted as he caught her double meaning. As if he'd have the energy to poke anyone or anything right now. Ivanova leaned forward to disconnect the recording, then paused. "I know I'm wasting my breath, but try not to worry about your crew or your ship. Everyone who needs treatment is getting it, and your people are doing an amazing job in pulling your ship back together. You can be very proud of them, Captain. I'll drop by later. Ivanova out."
The screen went dead, and Gideon sat back in his chair, considering. He'd heard what a hard-ass Ivanova could be, and knew that she'd meant every word. If he tried to break the codes blocking him from the ship's logs or leave his quarters, she'd throw him in the brig without a qualm. He decided to accept the inevitable, and for once in his life, do as he was told. Gideon wasn't sure he had the energy to do anything else. [And I'd look pretty damned stupid turning up on the bridge barefoot, anyway.] He just wished Ivanova had given him some news about John's condition.
Sighing deeply, the Captain looked around his quarters. The shelves looked bare and he could see that many of the items he'd kept there were missing. He realized that everything breakable had gone. They must have been smashed when the Excalibur was tossed like a straw out of the jump point. Someone must have been in and cleaned up the mess while he was unconscious, and they'd done a good job.
His chess set was back on his desk where it belonged, but they'd put all the pieces back into their starting positions, not knowing how far he'd got with the game. Most importantly, the cube Deborah had given him, with the pictures of her and Marcus, was right in the middle of his desk. He snatched it and pressed the corner, praying that it hadn't been damaged. When he saw Deborah's image smiling out at him, with Marcus held to her shoulder, Gideon smiled in relief. He carefully replaced the cube in the center of his desk where he could look at it, leaving the image he loved best on display.
The Captain then groaned as he remembered some other fragile items that had probably been lost in the crash. He pushed himself to his feet and padded through to the kitchen area, opening the cupboards when he got there. Sure enough, the place where he'd kept his completely illegal supply of wine and scotch was empty. There was still a faint smell of alcohol in the cabinet, but the cleaning crew had done a damned good job of getting rid of it. Gideon sighed again; he could have used a serious slug of scotch right about then.
Wandering back into the living area, Gideon wondered what to do with himself. He was exhausted but too strung out to sleep. He knew he'd never be able to concentrate on a book... BOOK! He ran through to the bedroom, wrenching out the drawer from his dresser, and grabbing the book from inside. He inspected it carefully and sighed with relief when he could see no signs of damage. Gideon had had the book valued and knew that it would bring him just enough money. It was the only asset he had left. Without it, he wouldn't be able to buy... He pushed that thought aside. He wouldn't let himself think about his plans for the future, not until he knew whether he had a future outside of a military prison.
Replacing the book carefully in the drawer, he turned as he heard the door buzzer and called, "Enter," as he walked through to the living area. The doors opened to show Captain Ivanova standing in the doorway.
Susan Ivanova looked carefully at the man in the doorway. His face was no longer distorted by bruising and swelling, and the blood that had covered it earlier had been washed away, but the pain was still clearly visible. Except the pain was no longer physical, it was mental and emotional, and showed mainly in his hazel-brown eyes. Her eyes drifted down to his right arm and shoulder, enclosed within his T-shirt, and she smiled. "You look like The Hunchback of Notre Dame."
Gideon's grin was twisted as he stood back to let her into the room. "Well, you don't look much like Esmeralda, but come in. Although this can hardly be considered Sanctuary."
Ivanova laughed and sat as Gideon waved her into the chair by his desk. She watched as he lowered himself into his own chair, moving slowly and carefully. He was obviously still in some discomfort. "How's the shoulder?" she asked.
"Sore. How are my crew and my ship? How's my First Officer?"
Ivanova leaned forward across the desk as she answered. "Recovering, all of them. Lieutenant Matheson is sleeping, but my doctor says he'll be fine. I'll give you access to the damage and repair reports when we're finished." She heard Gideon let out a soft sigh of relief and continued, "But first I need to take a statement from you for the Board of Inquiry." She produced a data crystal from her pocket and dropped it into the reader/recorder on Gideon's desk. "In your own words, Captain, tell me what happened from the time you received the distress call."
Captain Ivanova sat back and listened as Gideon spoke, watching him closely. She could see a man drowning in guilt and pain, a man close to his limits. If she didn't handle this very carefully, she feared that he might just let himself be thrown out of Earthforce, dishonorably discharged. That was exactly what John Sheridan would have done in these circumstances, and Ivanova could see many similarities between the man opposite her and her old friend. She was determined that Gideon was not going to throw his career away. Earthforce needed officers of his caliber.
He'd gone through the history of the distress call and his decision to respond, and had moved on to his visit to Medbay when Ivanova stopped him. "Before you tell me about your meeting with your Chief of Medicine, I ought to advise you that we can't find her body. We don't know what the Drazi did with her, but..." She trailed off as Gideon shook his head.
"She wasn't there. I got her off the ship before we went after the Drazi. She's on her way to Earth now, with all the data we had on the cure."
Ivanova slumped back in her seat, staring at Gideon with her mouth open. "She's alive? Dr. Chambers is alive? With all the data?" She couldn't believe what she'd just heard. Maybe this whole thing wasn't a complete disaster, after all.
Gideon nodded and explained how he had arranged for his CMO to be taken on ahead, while the Excalibur answered the distress call. Ivanova started to laugh with relief.
"Captain, when I walked in here, I thought that Earth was finished and that you'd be lucky if they didn't string you up from a flagpole in Geneva. Now I think you might just get a Medal of Honor."
Gideon looked across at the woman opposite and frowned. She'd kept her face carefully guarded since she'd entered his quarters, but he'd seen enough messengers with bad tidings to know that she didn't bear good news. But if it wasn't about his ship or his crew, what was it? Her dark brows had been drawn together in a fixed frown, and her rare smiles had looked strained.
She didn't look quite like the pictures he'd seen, maybe because she was out of uniform and she wore her hair loose, the dark curls falling around her shoulders, rather than pulled tightly back, the way it had been in the pictures.
He remembered watching her when she had been the chief broadcaster of the Voice of the Resistance, in the bad old days before the battle for Earth, when Sheridan had led the Earthforce ships to retake Earth from the dictatorship that President Clark had put in place. Gideon had risked court- martial, along with some of his crew mates on the Agamemnon, to watch her reports. Ivanova had always appeared cool and calm, totally professional and completely trustworthy in those broadcasts. Her icy gray eyes were much scarier in real life.
Gideon may never have met Captain Susan Ivanova before, but she was a legend in Earthforce. Second in command to John Sheridan on B5, she'd gone on to become one of the most respected Captains in the fleet. Her reputation was that she was tough but fair, a good friend and a bad enemy. Gideon knew that her evidence at the Board of Inquiry would be critical. If she decided that his actions had been justified and appropriate, he just might be exonerated. If Ivanova thought he'd been reckless and negligent, then he'd probably spend the rest of his life behind bars.
The problem was that Gideon believed he deserved to be punished for his actions. His decisions had cost his entire medical team their lives and the Captain still didn't know how many others had died or been crippled. While he had gone through the background to the rescue, quietly, keeping his emotions tightly under control, Gideon had kept his eyes firmly on the image in the cube in the center of his desk. That was what he had to fight for. Not his own future, but his future with Deborah and their son.
When Ivanova interrupted him and then started to laugh, Gideon felt confused. "I don't understand. What difference does it make? The medical team is still dead; the fact that Sarah is alive doesn't change that. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I got her clear, but that won't bring back the people who were murdered by those..." He bit his lip to stop himself. Whatever responsibility the Drazi had in the deaths of his crew, the prime responsibility was his. He had brought the bastards onto his ship. He would never forgive himself for that. Why hadn't he ordered them searched for weapons? What if he'd...? He brought himself up sharply. This was no time for 'what-ifs'.
Ivanova leaned forward and gave him a relieved smile. "It makes a lot of difference, Captain. It's the difference between life and death for humanity. When the Drazis killed your medical team, they also wiped everything from your medical databases. We don't know how they did it, the computer virus they used is incredibly sophisticated, but there is not one piece of data left on this ship about the cure to the Drakh plague. We thought it had been lost, and with the loss of your entire medical team, it looked like we would have to start over. But if you got Dr. Chambers and the data off the ship," She paused and looked quizzically at him, "actually, that could explain another mystery."
Gideon waited for her to continue, wondering what she was talking about.
"We were on our way to rendezvous with you at a fairly leisurely pace. If we'd carried on at that speed, we'd have arrived about three hours too late to save your ass, if we'd found you at all. You were far enough off the beacon by the time of the attack that we might never have found what was left of the Excalibur. But we received a message." Ivanova smiled as she looked across at Gideon. "Now, I think I can guess who sent it. At the time, we couldn't figure out where the hell it was coming from. There was no sign of any ship, and we couldn't pin down the source; it just seemed to come from all around. Every ship got the same message at the same moment."
Gideon frowned. "What was the message?"
Ivanova smiled again. "That the Excalibur could be in trouble and that we should haul ass. Well, it was a bit more polite than that, but not much. It gave a set of co-ordinates in hyperspace that I now know matched the location of the Drazi ship. We were concerned that it might be a trap of some kind, but we came at top speed anyway, on full battle alert. When we got to the location, there were no ships there, but we picked up energy patterns indicating weapons had been fired. With no sign of any ships in hyperspace or engine trails, there was only one place everyone could have gone, so..."
Gideon interrupted her. "So you dropped into normal space and into the middle of a battle."
Ivanova shook her head gently. "That wasn't a battle, Captain, that was annihilation. With odds of ten to one, and with the degree of damage the Excalibur had suffered, you didn't stand a chance. You were dead in space when we dropped in, and the pack was gathering for the kill."
Gideon nodded. "I know. I didn't expect to live long enough to regain power after that last shot from the main gun." He paused, his head down, reliving the moment when he had prepared himself to die. Taking a deep breath, he went on. "I guess your message must have come from a Technomage called Alwyn. It would be just like him to hide his ship and make his message untraceable. So when I got him to take Sarah away, it looks like I not only saved their lives, but my own as well." He laughed weakly. "He is never going to let me forget that, you know. I'll spend the rest of my life hearing about this one, and this time I think he's earned it, even if he does keep saying 'turnips' to me."
Gideon watched the brief flicker of puzzlement cross Ivanova's face, but she chose to ignore his comment. She said, "It might have been him who sent the message, but the decision to get them off the ship was yours. If anyone saved the Excalibur, Captain, it was you."
Gideon shook his head and was about to deny it, when Ivanova butted in and instructed him to continue his story. He took a deep breath and went on, describing what had happened after Alwyn and Sarah had left. Telling another Captain, who understood the burden of responsibility he carried, somehow made some of his actions and decisions make more sense. Ivanova interrupted a few times, seeking clarification either about his actions or his motivations, but never being critical. Gideon found himself almost believing that what he had done wasn't so unforgivable--almost. He went on up to the point where Ivanova's face had appeared in his viewscreen. "You know, Captain, I meant what I said then. I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful sight."
Ivanova smiled and shook her head, then leaned forward to lift the cube from the center of his desk. She held it up to the light and examined it, before saying, "This proves you're lying. What is it? I've never seen anything like this before. And who is she?"
Gideon reached out to take it from her, gently, holding the cube carefully while he explained its source. He wanted to be sure it wasn't damaged, that it would never be damaged. He didn't feel as if he had much left to live for at that moment, and he wanted to hang on to the few things that were still precious to him. He went on, "She's the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, if I could just figure out a way to make that happen, and that's our son. Before you say anything, I should show you a more recent picture. He looks much better now." Gideon attempted another weak smile.
Ivanova looked puzzled as she said, "I didn't realize you were married."
Gideon shook his head and smiled sadly. "I'm not. We don't have a legal contract in place, but that doesn't change the fact that I want spend the rest of my life with her." He took a deep breath and asked, "So what do you think my chances are? What will a Board of Inquiry recommend for a Captain who got suckered into a fake distress call, allowed his ship to be boarded by hostiles, who didn't check closely enough to disarm them, who let his entire medical team be massacred, then nearly got his ship blown out of space? Oh, and endangered every man, woman, and child on Earth in the process. Do you think they have a cell deep and dark enough for me?" Gideon dreaded the answer, but he had to ask.
He watched Ivanova carefully as she leaned forward to respond. "Let me put this another way. What should we do with the Captain who found the cure to the Drakh plague and saved the human race from extinction? Who on his way home answered what appeared to be a legitimate distress call from a ship belonging to a member of the ISA? Who had the foresight to send his most important crew member and data critical to saving Earth on ahead, to remove the risk of that data being lost? Who managed to evade five enemy ships in hyperspace, and despite being seriously injured and his ship being badly damaged, managed to hang on until help arrived, thereby saving most of his crew and his ship? What should we do with that Captain?"
Gideon sat back and sighed. "It all depends on your perspective, doesn't it? I guess that saving that data and getting details of the viral screen back to Earth are the things that everyone will remember. No one will recall how badly I screwed up on the way home." He wished he could believe it would be that easy, but he knew that the families of his medical team would never forget his failings.
Ivanova shook her head. "You didn't screw up, Matt. You did your job and you did it well. Don't get hung up on the guilt. I know all about guilt, believe me. No one does guilt like Russians do, and Russian Jews do it better than anyone else. A man once gave up his life for me--literally swapped his life for mine, and it took me years to stop feeling guilty about his death, even though there was nothing I could have done." She pointed at the cube Gideon still cradled in his palm. "Focus on life, not death--the future, not the past. Find a way to be with your woman and your son, and to live."
Taking a deep breath, Ivanova unzipped her jacket and reached inside, pulling out a large flask, the outline of which Gideon had noticed when she arrived. "I heard that your 'medicinal' supplies had been lost." She waved the flask in front of Gideon and he could see that it contained a clear liquid. He looked a question at her. "Vodka. 80 proof. Got anything to put it in, or shall we take turns swigging from the bottle?"
Gideon fetched two metallic cups from the kitchen area, then sat and watched her pour, asking, "What does your doctor say about this? Am I allowed alcohol?"
Ivanova laughed, "This isn't alcohol, Captain. This medicine was prescribed by my ship's doctor as part of your treatment."
Lifting his cup in silent salute, Gideon took a sip and nearly choked. His eyes started to water and his admiration for the Captain sitting opposite increased, as she slugged her shot down without batting an eyelid. Gideon followed her example and held his cup out for a second measure. When he got his voice back, he half-croaked, "So, if you get to call me 'Matt', does that mean I can call you Susie?" His mouth ran ahead of his brain, which couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard himself say. [Must be the vodka talking!]
Ivanova's teeth showed but he didn't think she was smiling. "Susan is acceptable. Call me Susie, and they'll need to put your other arm in a brace, too."
Gideon laughed, and swallowed the second measure, starting to feel very warm and woozy. "What is it with women who served on B5? Captain Lochley insists on Elizabeth, and you on Susan. You know that Liz bit me once for calling her that? I'm not telling you where. Now you threaten to break my arm." He realized that he was getting drunk incredibly quickly and tried to remember when he had last eaten. He couldn't recall. Maybe drinking 80 proof vodka with Ivanova wasn't such a good idea right now. [To hell with it. It just might help me sleep and not wake up for a week.] He downed the refill Ivanova had given him.
The Captain could feel himself turning maudlin as he put the cup down on the desk, then leaned forward and propped his head on his one good arm. "Why do beautiful women always want to beat me up? Even she threatened to bite me when I tried to shorten her name." Gideon looked sadly into the cube on his desk, wishing that Deborah were with him, wanting to sleep with his head on her shoulder and her arms around him. That was the only place he could imagine feeling at peace. [God, I miss her so much.]
Ivanova leaned across the desk and picked up the cup, then pointed at the cube. "What's her name, then?"
Gideon smiled, fatuously. "Deborah. That's Deborah. Not Debby, or Debs or even Debsy, but Deborah. My Deborah." He looked down at his cube again and turned mournful as he thought of another beautiful woman. "How am I going to tell Sarah?" Gideon took the refilled cup back from Ivanova and swallowed the contents.
Ivanova looked at the man sitting across the desk from her, definitely the worse for wear, which was exactly what she'd intended. She planned on getting Gideon paralytic drunk, roll him into his bunk and let him sleep for as long as it took him to wake. She'd tackled most of the issues she'd wanted to raise, and had been looking for the right opportunity to talk about what had happened in Medbay. Now he'd presented her with that opportunity, but it was a good question. How in the hell was he going to tell Dr. Chambers that every one of her team had been murdered?
Having stopped off at the Excalibur's Medbay on her way to Gideon's quarters, Ivanova had gotten a brief glimpse of the carnage that had taken place there. The forensics team was progressing slowly and had made their initial report. The Excalibur medical team had been brutally dispatched, but at least it didn't seem that any of them had suffered for long. The Drazi had been efficient in their mayhem. She watched as Gideon's gaze slowly focused on her and he asked, "Why did they do it? What could have made them murder my people and then themselves? How do I explain this to Sarah?" His words were slurred but the pain in his eyes was clear enough.
Ivanova poured him another drink, sighed, and shook her head. "I don't know the answers to those questions, and I wonder if we'll ever know. It's clear that the Drakh wanted to sabotage any chance of your getting that data home, but why should a group of Drazi help them? We don't know. Initial analyses don't show any indications of the use of drugs." What the Drazis had done was a mystery, and Ivanova wasn't sure that they'd ever find the answer.
She smiled gently at Gideon as he emptied his cup, then she continued, "The Drazi are aggressive and suspicious, but they're not easily forced into anything they don't want to do. Bastards broke my foot on B5 when I was trying to stop them fighting!" The memory of her eventual solution to that fight made Ivanova smile. [Green and purple indeed!] She sobered as she saw the pain clearly visible in Gideon's eyes, and poured them both another drink. The metal cups they were using prevented him from seeing that she'd hardly touched what she'd poured for herself.
As he threw back another measure, Ivanova continued quietly, "What's really amazing is that the Drakh thought it was necessary to murder your medical team and wipe out that data. They sent ten ships, cruisers and bigger, to attack you and blow you out of space, but they obviously weren't sure that would be enough, so they sent in the Drazis as a backup. Yet somehow, you beat them all, Matt. Somehow you survived that attack, and even their Trojan horse didn't work. You did one hell of job today, Captain, one hell of a job."
Ivanova had lowered her voice gradually as she spoke, watching Gideon's eyes closing and his head falling to his chest. Her ship's doctor had told her that she needed to get him to talk, then to get him to sleep. [Looks like two out of two, but how do I get him into his bunk without waking him?] She walked quietly around the desk and put her hand under Gideon's good arm, whispering, "Come on, Matt. Let's get you to bed. Just stand up. There's a good boy."
His eyes half-opened as she managed to get him to his feet and supported him into the bedroom. When Ivanova lowered him to the bunk, Gideon reached up and caressed her face gently with his left hand, whispering, "Angel? I thought we'd lost you," before his head fell back on the pillow and he slept.
Ivanova straightened, wondering who Angel was, and pulled the blanket over him. She just hoped that his hangover wouldn't be too bad. Then she left to make her report for the Board of Inquiry, stopping only to fulfill her promise and release the ship's logs for Gideon to read when he woke up.
The sound of the door buzzer dragged Gideon out of a sleep so deep it could almost be called unconsciousness. He had no memory of dreaming, [Hell, I don't even remember going to sleep! How did I get in here?] and was grateful for that, at least. He was less grateful for the pounding headache he was now suffering. The door buzzer going off for a second time brought him upright on his bunk, and he swung his feet to the floor, calling, "OK, OK! Give me a minute, will you?"
Staggering upright, Gideon nearly fell as he tried to extend his right arm for balance and found it wouldn't move. Memories of the previous day came flooding back and he groaned, wishing that the headache was his only pain. As he entered the living area, he called, "Open," and looked up to see a tall blonde woman standing in the doorway. Very tall. Very blonde. Her skin was as white as her hair, and her eyes a very pale blue.
"Captain Gideon." She nodded at him as she stepped through the door, and Gideon acknowledged her with a wave of his left hand. He was very much aware of the fact that he was unwashed, unshaven, barefoot, had slept in his clothes, and probably stank. Not exactly how he preferred to make a first impression. Before he could ask who she was, she told him. "I'm Greta Uhrenholt, Chief of Medicine on the John Proctor. Captain Ivanova asked me to check you over."
Gideon stood quietly while she ran a scanner over his arm and shoulder, then released the brace, getting him to move the muscles until she was satisfied. "The area will be sore and stiff for a few days. As well as dislocating your shoulder, you broke your collarbone and cracked your humerus. If it's any consolation, I believe that your command console was even worse off. You almost destroyed it when you went for your little jaunt. Next time you decide to go flying around your bridge, Captain, I suggest that you make sure your command console is retracted back into the ceiling where you can't hit it."
This was delivered in a monotone voice and Gideon could see no sign of a smile on Uhrenholt's face, but he hoped she was joking. He quirked a small smile back at her and said, "Doctor's orders?"
The doctor nodded but her face was expressionless as she ran her scanner over his head, then delved in a pocket and brought out a small vial of pills. "Take two now and keep the rest for the next time Captain Ivanova decides you need a dose of her medicine. In ten minutes, you should stop wanting your head to fall off your shoulders."
Gideon swallowed the pills dry and looked carefully at Uhrenholt. "Am I fit for duty?"
She shook her head. "Not for twenty-four hours, but I'm releasing you from confinement to quarters. Before you ask, I've just done the same for your First Officer. He had a nasty concussion, but he is recovering well. Let Lieutenant Grigoria take care of things for another day, Captain, then you and your XO can take over again." The doctor's eyes looked sympathetic, even if her voice was brusque and her face unemotional.
Gideon nodded and called, "Thanks," to her back as she spun on her heel and left his quarters.
Half an hour later, showered, shaven, in clean clothes and with no headache, Gideon sat at his desk. Getting his boots on had been a struggle, with his right shoulder still stiff and sore, but he'd managed it in the end and felt a lot more in command of himself. He smiled at how vulnerable being barefoot had made him feel. Did he really expect everyone to try to tread on his toes? He shook the thought away as he started to work his way through the damage reports waiting for him.
After an hour's reading, he wished Uhrenholt had left him to sleep. The cost of his mistake, in both lives and damage to the ship, was appalling. His guilt and depression had built as he'd read the engineering and medical reports, which set out in detail just how badly his ship and crew had suffered.
Then he found Ivanova's report to Earthforce, which she had copied to him. She'd exonerated him completely. The report said that he had followed regulations in responding to the distress call, and that he was to be commended for his forethought in sending Sarah Chambers and the medical data off ship before starting the mission. It went on to say that it would have been inappropriate to subject the Drazi to strip searches when they were in need of immediate medical treatment, and no lesser searches would have detected the weapons they carried. It concluded that Gideon was to be congratulated for his quick thinking and actions, which had kept his ship from destruction long enough for the other Earthforce ships to arrive.
Gideon sat back and closed his eyes, feeling guiltier than ever as he fended off the wave of dizziness that swept over him. When he opened his eyes again, he caught sight of the bottle of vodka that Ivanova had left behind, still half full, on the corner of his desk. The temptation to drown himself in it was almost overwhelming, but he knew that he owed it to his crew to pull himself together and get on with his job. He realized that the dizziness probably came from not having eaten for over a day, so he pushed himself to his feet, carefully pulled on his jacket, and left his quarters.
The corridors between his quarters and the mess hall were chaotic, full of people he didn't recognize, apparently pulling his ship to pieces. Gideon knew they were carrying out repairs, but it hurt like hell to see the guts of the Excalibur spread out over the floors by strangers. Gritting his teeth, he made his way to the nearest mess hall as quickly as he could.
The doors opened, and the Captain saw that the room was nearly full. He recognized many of the people there as his own crew, but there were a number of strangers present, sporting a variety of ship's badges on their left arms. It looked as if there were representatives from all six other ships in the room. As he walked to the counter to collect his breakfast, Gideon heard the noise level drop. When he'd entered, there had been a buzz of conversation from the discussions going on at every table. As he walked past each table, every conversation stopped. By the time he filled a plate with food and placed it on a tray, the room was in total silence behind him.
Gideon steeled himself to turn, dreading the looks of condemnation he knew he would see on every face. He was responsible for what had happened; every life that had been lost was because of his mistake. He knew he deserved the contempt that he dreaded seeing in his crew's eyes, but also knew he would just have to live with it and hope that one day he could earn back their respect. Hearing the noise of chairs moving behind him, Gideon braced himself and turned, holding his tray, expecting to see a mass exodus from the mess hall, as people refused to even occupy the same room as him.
The sight that met him nearly brought Gideon to his knees. Every man and woman in the room was on their feet and saluting. In total silence, at rigid attention, his crew told him without words that he was still their Captain.
Gideon managed a painfully weak smile and said, "You had to wait until I had my hands full, didn't you?" He heard muffled laughter in response, then a young ensign with the arm-patch of the Thetis took his tray from his hands.
The Captain straightened, returned the salute painfully, as the muscles in his shoulder and arm were still stiff, and murmured, "At ease." Then the clapping started, accompanied by cheering, whistling and stamping as the young ensign led him across the mess hall. Gideon had never felt so embarrassed in his life as he did while his crew and the strangers amongst them all applauded vigorously. He nodded to everyone as he passed, smiling, while knowing inside that he didn't deserve this. They should all be hating him, not applauding him.
He followed the ensign to a table where she placed his tray, and he thanked her quietly as she left. It was only then that Gideon saw who was standing, waiting for him at the table. He reached out and shook hands with John Matheson who stood smiling quietly, enjoying his Captain's discomfort. They rarely touched like that, but this was a special occasion. Gideon sent a brief thought, telling John how much he appreciated the support, knowing that John would never read him, but half hoping that just this once, his XO would make an exception.
The cheering quieted, and Gideon was at last able to sit. John sat opposite and the Captain looked at his XO carefully. There were no signs of the injuries John had suffered, just a lingering sadness in his dark brown eyes. Gideon knew that Matheson would be feeling the same guilt as he did, feeling that as XO, he should have done something, anything, to prevent what had happened.
The Captain smiled and picked up his fork, saying, "You look good, John. How do you feel?"
Matheson smiled back, "Much better. The doctor says I can go back on duty tomorrow."
At the word 'doctor', Gideon paused, a forkful of reconstituted scrambled egg halfway to his mouth. He carefully placed the fork back on the plate, his appetite suddenly gone. Looking up at John, he asked quietly, so no one else could hear, "How am I going to tell her, John? How can I tell Sarah that I got all her people killed?"
Gideon could see his own pain reflected in the warm, dark eyes opposite, as well as sympathy and concern. Matheson spoke equally softly, "I don't know right now, Captain, but we'll find a way. You don't have to do it all alone, you know. We'll work it out together." The XO smiled gently. "And maybe Alwyn will help us and keep an eye on Sarah for us."
Gideon realized that Matheson was aware of the feelings the Technomage had for their ship's doctor, and smiled back. "I guess he will. Thank you, John." He tried to project all his gratitude for John's support and friendship into those three words. Picking up his fork again, he started to push the food on his plate around, but it held little appeal.
The Captain looked up as his XO spoke again. "You'd better eat that. I had orders from Demon that I was to take good care of you."
Gideon grinned. "She said that?"
Matheson smiled and nodded. "Yes, she was very clear about it. And you know how much she scares me, so you'd better eat up. If you go back to her looking thin and unwell, she's going to take it out on me."
Gideon smiled sadly. "I wish I knew when we'll get back there, John. It could take weeks or months for us to get the Excalibur fit to move, get her back to Earth, get new orders and work out how we're going to find a way to be with our families." The ache inside him that came from missing Deborah and Marcus grew every day they were apart and he wondered how much longer he could stand it.
John returned his smile. "I know. But we're going to find our way home, Matthew." Gideon raised an eyebrow at John's use of the word 'home', but Matheson continued before he could say anything. "Home for you and me is where our families are. The place isn't important; it's the people who matter. Somehow, we're going to find our way home. We may be going a very long way around, but one day we'll get there--home."
Gideon smiled. Somehow, John's words had given him hope. He now had hope that one day he could be with his family, that surviving the last couple of days had been worthwhile, that there was something positive to look forward to and to work toward. He was about to tell John as much when his XO looked severe and pointed at his plate. "Now eat!"
The Captain grinned. "Yes, Mother."
If you enjoyed this story, you can find more at:
http://www.ourdramaqueen.com/sw/index.htm
July 2269
The Ranger sat in the communication center, in the President's office at Tuzanor. Since he'd been crippled in a battle with the Drakh two years earlier, he'd been put on light duty, and manning the communications equipment was the perfect role for a Ranger who could no longer range.
It was also the perfect job for his other Masters--the Masters who controlled him through the Keeper they had attached to him when they had captured and tortured him. The Ranger often thought it would have been better to have died under that torture rather than live under the rule of the Keeper, but the choice had been taken away from him on that day two years before, and on every day since. The Keeper didn't often intervene in his actions, but when it did, he had no option but to obey. Now was one of those times.
He carefully recorded the incoming message and sent it through to the President's office. Then he sent a copy to his other Masters.
Drowning in self-hatred, the Minbari Ranger once again tried to think of ways to die that his Keeper couldn't stop. The Keeper's laugh echoed in his skull, making it clear that he had no hope of success.
[Home, we're going home!] The thought raced around and around in Gideon's head as the Excalibur rushed through hyperspace. He sat in his chair on the bridge, trying to concentrate on the fuel consumption and crew efficiency reports on his data pad, but failed miserably. He could barely get through a line of text before his pride in his crew and their achievements burst out of him again. [We did it! We found the cure!]
The quest that had taken over two and a half years of searching, constantly aware of how many were dying every day on Earth, was nearly behind them. In a few days they would be home, [Home!] and they could start curing people. More accurately, they could stop people from catching the plague again after they had been cured. The doctors on Earth had been able to cure people for several months now, using the equipment the Excalibur had brought back from Eriadne, but unless those people were removed from Earth and its contaminated atmosphere, they were immediately re-infected.
Now the Excalibur was bringing home the missing piece, the viral screen that could be used to permanently prevent infection by the Drakh plague. On Theta 49, with the co-operation of Robert Black and his colonists, they had finally found the virus they could adapt to become a permanent screen. In gratitude, the Excalibur had stopped at Orion VII for the minutes necessary to transfer some of Black's people to a shuttle, those few who hadn't wished to stay on Theta 49. Then the Excalibur had headed for Earth at top speed, and had now completed five of the nine days it would take them to get home.
The Captain had ordered the crew to full battle alert, and they had stayed on that status since entering hyperspace, but the crew didn't seem to mind. The sense of jubilation that infected everyone on board was almost intoxicating. So many of his crew had families and friends on Earth that nothing could suppress their joy in being the ones who had succeeded in finding the cure.
All too aware that they carried the future of Earth on this single ship, Gideon had ordered a communications blackout as soon as they left the Orion system. If the Drakh found out their location, Gideon was sure that they'd do anything and everything they could to stop his ship from making it home. The cargo they now carried was far too precious to risk for any reason.
Gideon's experience with Senator Redway and the plumber who had accompanied him had made the Captain wary of any potential leak of information that could alert the Drakh to the Excalibur's location. Gideon's lips quirked into a smile as he thought, not for the first time, that plumbers were supposed to fix leaks, not create them. The Captain had sent one carefully coded message to President Sheridan's office, then closed down all outgoing communications. That had hurt like hell, because he could no longer send his daily messages to Deborah. He missed her so much it hurt, and he still hadn't figured out a way for them to be together. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that maybe John Matheson was right, maybe the only solution was to leave Earthforce and join their families on Eriadne.
Looking at John reminded Gideon of the promise he'd made to his XO after their last visit to Eriadne and the birth of their children. "...we're going to find a way to make it happen. Just give me some time, OK? Don't rush into decisions that you'll have a lifetime to regret." John was relying on his Captain to find a solution to their problems, and at this point, the Captain wasn't sure he could do that. Sometimes when they were on the bridge together, Gideon would see a look of sadness and longing on John's face that nearly broke his Captain's heart. Gideon knew that John missed his family as much as he did, and knew he had to find a way for them all to be together again.
Gideon treasured every message and picture he received from Deborah, showing him how his son was growing every day, [And he is improving with age. Maybe he won't scare small children and animals when he grows up,] and he especially enjoyed the ones showing him how Deborah had regained the weight she'd lost when she was pregnant, and recovered her spectacular figure. In her last message, she'd done a slow striptease for the camera, so he could see for himself how her stomach was flat again, although her breasts were still larger than they had been.
Gideon shifted uncomfortably in his chair, as he felt himself becoming aroused just at the memory of that message. He'd made absolutely certain that no copies of that one were recorded into the comm. system! Deborah had ended her message by telling him that she understood why he couldn't reply, but to please hurry back as she missed him. [She misses me? How the hell does she think I feel! I don't send her pictures of me naked!] The thought of his Communications team's reaction if they intercepted such a message brought a brief smile to the Captain's lips, just as his XO turned to look at him.
"Gas, Captain?" John Matheson's teasing smile showed that he'd never let Gideon forget that excuse.
"No. Just planning out the next battle drill I'm going to put you all through. I thought this time, Lieutenant, you might like to lead a troop through the recycling plant, so you can surprise Jackson and her people on the flight deck. How does that appeal?"
Matheson's quiet moan of dismay gave Gideon far more pleasure than he knew he ought to feel. [That'll teach you.] He was just about to continue torturing his First Officer for his own pleasure and the entertainment of the bridge crew, when he saw Matheson's hand move to the earpiece of his headset.
"We're receiving a distress call, Captain." Matheson paused, listening. Gideon waited impatiently for more details. "It's a Drazi passenger transport. Forty passengers and crew on board. They've had total engine failure in hyperspace, can't jump back to normal space, and are drifting off the beacon. They seem to be caught in some sort of hyperspace vortex, which is pulling them in."
Gideon stood abruptly. "How long until they lose contact with the beacon? And how long for us to get to them?"
Matheson spoke quietly into his headset and waited for a response. "They'll be out of range of the beacon in four hours, and it will take us three hours to reach them." He looked up at his CO, frowning. "But if we change course to go after them, by the time we reach them, stop, get them on board, get back up to speed and resume our original course, we'll have lost over half a day."
The Captain frowned. He'd never ignored a distress signal, had never left anyone behind, but how many people would die on Earth because of that delay? Could Gideon risk those lives to save forty Drazi? But how could the Excalibur leave, knowing that by doing so they were condemning those forty souls to die? Gideon remembered a time when Max Eilerson had asked him if he would sacrifice a few hundred Narns to save Earth. The Captain hadn't answered the question then and had hoped he would never have to answer it. Now it looked as if he would have to make his choice. Could Gideon allow forty Drazi to die, knowing he could have saved them? Could he justify their inevitable deaths by pleading that many more lives might be saved by his arriving at Earth a few hours earlier? Gideon looked at his XO, "Is there no one else in range? No one else who can help them?"
Matheson shook his head sadly, obviously aware of the dilemma faced by his Captain. "No, Sir. In four hours, they'll be irretrievably lost."
Gideon took a deep breath and decided. To hell with the math. "Change course, Lieutenant. We're going after them." He then made a second decision. "I'm going down to Medbay. I'll be there if you need me."
If a sense of elation pervaded the Excalibur, then the source of that jubilation was Medbay. As Gideon walked in, he couldn't help but smile at the grins everyone there wore. For a moment, he could have sworn that Deborah must be there, projecting happiness, as there didn't seem to be any other explanation for the euphoria that permeated the whole place.
The Captain walked through to Dr. Chambers' office, nodding at members of her team as he went, returning their smiles. Everyone there knew what a miracle they had achieved. They had found the cure, and they were taking it home. Gideon still thought another miracle had occurred with the Excalibur getting away from Theta 49 without murder being done, either to his crew or to Black's colonists. The conditions they had all worked under had led to almost intolerable pressure on everyone, and friction between the medical team and the colonists had built to explosive heights. Somehow, they'd kept it together, somehow they carried on working, and somehow they'd achieved their goal. If ever a group of people deserved to feel happy and proud, it was Sarah Chambers and her medical team.
Gideon found Sarah at her desk, still working, still searching. He knew that she felt they hadn't done enough, that the cure they had found wasn't the right cure. Since the deaths of her sister and niece two months before, Sarah had been driving herself to the limit, and perhaps a little beyond. Gideon was deeply concerned about her, and had shared those concerns with Alwyn, asking the elderly Technomage to watch out for Sarah, to try to get her to slow down. Alwyn had agreed to do his best, but from what the Captain could see, his Chief Medical Officer was driving herself as hard as ever.
She looked up as Gideon entered her office and gave him a brief, distracted smile before looking back at the data pad in front of her, saying, "Is it urgent, Captain? I'm rather busy right..." she trailed off as Gideon reached over and took the data pad from her, turning it face down on her desk.
"Yes, it is urgent, but not so urgent that you need to kill yourself. When did you last go off duty? When did you last sleep? Sarah, I need a CMO who isn't running on empty. So put the data pad aside, lean back, close your eyes and relax for two minutes, while I get us both coffee. That's an order." Gideon smiled, then turned to go to the main Medbay and get the coffee.
As he turned, he nearly ran into Alwyn, who had been standing immediately behind him. Gideon started, then said, "I used to tell Galen that I was going to put a bell on him, so I could hear him coming. Looks like I'm going to have to do the same to you."
Alwyn's smile was slow and full of malicious promise. "I would love to see you try, Captain. I promise I'll send all the important parts of you back to Demon, for her to treasure."
Gideon smiled weakly and slid past the Technomage, saying, "Don't go anywhere. I need to speak to both of you. I'll be right back."
Returning with three cups of coffee, he found Sarah leaning back in her chair, her eyes closed, while Alwyn stood behind her, massaging her shoulders. Lifting an eyebrow in Alwyn's direction, he got a stony glare back. Gideon knew that the Technomage had what could be called 'feelings' towards his doctor, and he could see that Sarah was fond of the old man, in a joking, tolerant sort of way. The Captain hoped that one day Chambers might feel more than that, as he was sure that Alwyn could provide her with the friendship, comfort, and support that she desperately needed. He told himself to mind his own business for once, and handed out coffee.
Gideon perched on the edge of Sarah's desk and looked at the Technomage. "Alwyn, I need a favor."
Alwyn snorted in amusement. "Hardly a novelty, is it? I seem to have been doing you favors since we met, Captain. I still haven't sent you my bill for delivering your son."
Gideon smiled faintly and shook his head. "No joke this time, Alwyn. I need you to leave, right now, and I need you to take Sarah with you." He quieted Chambers' startled protest and went on to explain about the Drazi distress signal. He started to pace the office as he continued, "The timing stinks. Just when we're on our way home with the final piece of the cure, we get dragged off on a mercy mission. Well, call me suspicious, but I get an uncomfortable feeling about this sort of synchronicity. It may be coincidence, but my gut tells me to be careful. So I want you two to copy every bit of data we have on the cure, everything you need to deliver it to Earth, and I want you off this ship."
The Captain turned to Alwyn who had been listening carefully. The Technomage had been nodding his agreement to Gideon's suggestion. "Alwyn, whatever happens to the Excalibur, you have to get Sarah and that data back to Earth. I know that your ship isn't as fast as the Excalibur, so if this is just a straightforward rescue mission, we'll catch up with you about a day out from Sol system, and we can all go home together. I hope to God that's what happens, and that I'm just being paranoid, but I can't take any risks with a cargo as precious as this."
He looked straight into the Technomage's eyes, knowing that Alwyn would understand his meaning. The precious cargo wasn't just the data, but also the doctor who had worked it all out. There was no one else in the galaxy who would take care of Sarah as carefully and as well as Alwyn. Gideon had considered sending Sarah on ahead in a shuttle or a fighter, but those vehicles could only exit hyperspace through a jump gate and would be slower than Alwyn's ship. Anyway, the Captain was sure that the Technomage could protect Sarah far better than any escort the Excalibur could give her.
Alwyn nodded seriously, accepting the burden of trust that Gideon had just placed on him, then looked down at Sarah, who sat in front of the Mage, his hands still resting gently on her shoulders. "Well, my dear, it looks like we're off on a journey together. How long will it take you to pack?"
Sarah smiled and lifted her hand to rest over Alwyn's on her shoulder. "About an hour to copy all the data and two minutes to throw some essentials into a bag." She looked across at Gideon, who was watching the Technomage's face as he looked down at where Sarah's hand rested on his own. That face was suffused with such longing and sadness that Gideon could only hope that one day these two people might be more than friends. He started to leave the office when Sarah called him back.
"Captain? Are you sure about this? Send the data with Alwyn by all means, but I should be here with my team. The Drazi may be hurt or injured, in which case, you're going to need me."
Gideon shook his head as he stood. "Earth needs you more, Sarah. You have a great team here, and you've trained them well. They can cope on a straightforward rescue mission. In all probability, we'll pick you up in a couple of days, and they'll be telling you what a wonderful job they did without you." He paused at the door on his way out and said, smiling, "Now get going. I want you off my ship in an hour."
The Captain walked back toward the bullet car, satisfied that he could now tackle the rescue mission, knowing that the cure was safely on its way to Earth. Whatever happened to him and his ship, he knew that Alwyn would get Sarah safely home.
The Drazi ship hung on the edge of a hyperspace vortex that was slowly but surely dragging them into its heart. In the three hours it had taken the Excalibur to reach them, the Drazi had drifted well off the beacon. In another hour, they would have gone beyond the limits of the beacon's signal and would have been lost forever. Matheson had spent the last hour or so making sure that everything was prepared for the rescue. The shuttles were prepped for take-off as soon as they got within range, ready to evacuate the passengers. The fighter wings were ready for launch to provide escort and Medbay was standing by to take in survivors.
The XO had been a little surprised when his Captain had given the order to put the fighters on stand by. It wasn't standard practice for a rescue mission, but he understood Gideon's concerns. Maybe they were both being paranoid, but Matheson agreed that the timing of that distress call was suspicious. He'd been relieved when Gideon had told him about Alwyn's departure with Dr. Chambers and all the data they had on the viral screen, and it had amused him a little that his usually somewhat reckless Captain was being so cautious. There had certainly been no need to say 'turnips' to him on this occasion, which gave John cause for mild regret. He always enjoyed his Captain's reaction to the word 'turnip', especially when it was merited. Matheson admonished himself. He knew that Gideon never took unnecessary risks when it came to really important issues, such as the safety of the crew or their mission. It was only his own neck, and sometimes that of his XO, with which he gambled.
The voices droned in John's headset, giving him continuous data about the state of the ship, and the hyperspace surrounding it. It was the XO's job to filter all that data and report the important things to his Captain. He held the headset to his ear, concentrating, then turned to Gideon, who sat waiting in his Captain's chair, and said, "We're in range. Rescue can commence on your order."
Gideon stood and barked, "Launch fighters." He paused for a few seconds, watching the images of the Star Furies appear on the viewscreen, positioning themselves in a defensive perimeter around the Excalibur and the Drazi ship, then said, "Launch shuttles."
Matheson listened carefully for a few moments, then reported, "Shuttles away." He reminded Gideon of the plan to which they had agreed. "Shuttles 2 and 3 will make one journey each. Shuttle 1 will have to return to pick up a second load." It was unfortunate that the three shuttles they had on board did not have the capacity to take all forty Drazi in one journey, but they had assigned Trace Miller as pilot of Shuttle 1 and he could fly better and faster than any other pilot on board. He would get the first load back and be out again before Shuttles 2 and 3 returned.
Gideon nodded at Matheson's reminder and called for Communications to open a channel to the Drazi vessel. They had maintained communications silence so far, not wishing to alert anyone to their whereabouts, but now they needed to let the Drazi ship know their plans. Matheson waited for confirmation then turned to his Captain, "Channel open, Captain." The Drazi Captain's face appeared in the view screen at the front of the bridge.
His first words were aggressive, just as Matheson had anticipated. The Drazi language didn't have a word for discretion, showing that the race was totally unfamiliar with the concept. "Who are you? Why didn't you tell us you were coming?"
Gideon gave back as good as he got. "This is the Earth Alliance Ship Excalibur, Matthew Gideon commanding, and if our presence offends you, we can leave. If you want us to stay, open another channel and my First Officer will give instructions to whomever you want to put in charge of your rescue. Then you and I can argue about how much notice you require before you allow us to save you."
The Drazi glared, but waved at one of the crew who was visible behind him, and a voice started talking in Matheson's ear. Well, ranting would have been a better word, but the XO soon cut through his words and started making the necessary arrangements with what turned out to be the Drazi pilot.
Matheson was half aware that Gideon was keeping the argument with the Drazi Captain going, exchanging insults and threats, as was necessary to gain the Drazi's respect and cooperation. As a race, they were suspicious to the point of paranoia, extremely aggressive and they only respected people who would stand up to them and show themselves to be just as aggressive. [Perhaps we should get Mr. Eilerson up here to negotiate. He and the Drazi are a perfect match.] John quickly suppressed the smile that went with that thought.
By the time Shuttle 1 was docking with the disabled Drazi ship, Matheson had agreed on an evacuation plan with the pilot, and Gideon had won the grudging respect of the Drazi Captain, who ungraciously agreed to allow them to rescue him and his people. The pilot gave Matheson data on the condition of the passengers and crew as they started to load Shuttle 1 with those people who could move fastest.
Gideon, meanwhile, started negotiating with the Drazi on the fee they were going to charge for the rescue. Matheson knew that the fee would never be levied or collected, but he also knew that the Drazi would be deeply offended if their rescue were offered free of charge. That would imply that their lives were worth nothing. By demanding an outrageous sum for the costs of the rescue, Gideon had soothed the Drazis' pride, and ensured their continued cooperation in a fast and smooth evacuation.
The Lieutenant now had data that he needed to give to his Captain, so turned to attract his attention. Gideon cut the Drazi Captain off, saying he'd consider the latest offer made. He turned to Matheson and nodded for him to continue.
"Shuttle 1 is on its way back, Shuttle 2 is just docking with the Drazi ship. Of the forty passengers and crew, the ten on Shuttle 1 are the only ones relatively fit and uninjured. When the engines failed, life support went with them. The atmosphere in the ship has become contaminated with coolants and everyone on board has respiratory problems to some degree-- even the Captain, though he's hiding it well. They'll all need to be treated in Medbay as soon as we get them on board."
Gideon nodded again. "Brief the Medbay team we have standing by outside the landing bay. They'll need to make sure they have the appropriate equipment on hand, and get as much information about the nature of the contamination as you can."
Matheson started to carry out his orders as the Captain waved at Communications to re-establish his channel to the Drazi ship. The XO heard Gideon's opening words, then concentrated on his own job.
"Well, Captain Grensa, it looks like the fee for your rescue just went up. We'll need to figure in the cost of the medical treatment."
Gideon sat back in his chair when he'd finished haggling with the Drazi Captain, thinking while he watched the rescue progress. If this was a Drakh trap, just how had it been set? Grensa had told him that the Drazi ship had left their home world two days before. If the Drakh had somehow intercepted his message to Sheridan, that would have given them three days to work out the Excalibur's most direct route home, identify a ship that would be traveling in that sector of hyperspace, and sabotage it. The timing was tight, but not impossible. So despite the smoothness with which everything had run so far, this could still be a trap.
As long as they had shuttles moving between the two ships, the Excalibur was effectively dead in space. They couldn't run unless they were willing to leave the shuttles behind, and Gideon was sure that the Drakh knew enough about him by now to know that he would never do that. He suspected that they knew enough about him to have set up this whole situation, knowing that he would find it impossible to ignore a distress call.
The Captain had done everything he could to prepare for the trap. All his guns were manned and on standby, his fighters were out and on full alert. The message buoy with every piece of data, right up to the point of their starting the rescue, was ready. It would be launched in the event of the destruction of the ship, waiting silently until it detected an Earthforce vessel, then signaling its presence. That buoy held his farewell message to Deborah and his son, with a request to Earthforce to deliver it to her on Eriadne. While the thought of dying and never seeing her again was bad enough, the thought of her never knowing what had happened to him was far worse. Gideon desperately wanted her to know that he hadn't deserted her, that he would never have abandoned her to raise their son alone, so he'd snatched a few moments to record the message and included it in the buoy. John had done the same for Luke and Lily. It was all they could do for their families.
The Captain watched as Shuttles 2 and 3 returned with their passengers and Shuttle 1 docked with the Drazi ship to take on the last set of survivors. As soon as Trace brought home that last shuttle, Gideon planned to slam shut the landing bay doors and get the hell out of that sector of hyperspace as fast as the engines could take him. He had a bad feeling about this.
Matheson turned to look at him and reported, "Spatial disturbances detected, Captain. Jump points opening."
[Shit!] Gideon checked quickly on the sensor readings; the shuttle was halfway back to the ship. The Excalibur wasn't going anywhere for at least another five minutes. [You'd better move your ass, Trace!] The bastards must have known exactly where his ship was all the time and had been sitting in normal space, waiting for the time when the Excalibur couldn't move and was most vulnerable. Well, the timing was a little off. They had two out of the three shuttles back, thirty of the Drazi on board, and just had to hold out for a few more minutes before they could run for their lives.
"How many?" Gideon could only pray that they hadn't had time to get a whole fleet into position to attack him. If they had, his ship and his crew were all dead.
"Five." John's voice was flat as he delivered the news. Bad enough, but it could have been worse. They still had a fighting chance. Gideon watched as the sensors showed the five Drakh ships jumping in at strategic points around him. Shuttle 1 had just reached the landing bay doors. The Excalibur started firing at the enemy, and the fighters moved to intercept the smaller craft the Drakh destroyers had launched.
"As soon as that shuttle's backside is inside the landing bay doors, shut them and move. Don't wait for Trace to set it down. We'll have to rely on the gravimetric fields to stop it from crashing into the walls and ripping us to pieces. Tell Trace what we're doing and go!" Gideon barked out the orders and followed them with a heading that would take them directly into the path of the largest Drakh ship. As soon as he had confirmation that the shuttle was inside, he gave the next order. "Jump engines on line, full power to thrusters. Ramming speed--straight down their throats. Bring the fighters into tight formation. Keep them close."
With all guns still firing, and the hull ringing and shaking with the hits the Excalibur was taking, she started to move toward the Drakh mother-ship. Gideon hung onto his seat, checking his command console to make sure that all his fighters had moved in close, and when they were moving at top speed and seconds away from collision with the Drakh ship, he yelled, "Jump!"
The jump point opened in front of them, and they dropped through into normal space, leaving their pursuers behind--for now. Gideon knew that he'd only bought them a few moments, but he was going to make the most of them to get as much space between him and his pursuers as he could get. As soon as his jump engines were recharged, he planned to dive back into hyperspace and run as fast as he could.
What Gideon saw on his console made him groan in despair. The Drakh had only sent half of their forces into hyperspace after him. There were five more destroyers waiting for him in normal space. The Excalibur's sudden burst of speed in hyperspace had taken her outside the attack formation that had been waiting for them, and only that unexpected maneuver had saved them from instant destruction. Coming out of hyperspace at a different position than that the Drakh had anticipated meant it took the enemy a few seconds to shift into position and fire into the heart of the jump point behind the Excalibur.
The explosion behind them as the jump point detonated threw the Excalibur end over end like a toy. Their accompanying fighters were scattered like dandelion seeds on the wind. Gideon felt himself flying out of his chair, felt the sickening pain in his right shoulder as it crunched into his command console, a pain that faded almost instantly as the left side of his head smacked into the deck that rose up to meet him. Then he felt nothing.
Janie Ferguson helped the last of the Drazis into Medbay. They had run out of beds, and the less incapacitated of the survivors sat on the floor, coughing raspingly, while those more severely hurt were being treated on the beds. Taking forty patients at once strained Medbay's capacity to the limit, and they had called in every member of the medical team, on or off duty, to help cope. Janie had felt very proud when Sarah Chambers had left her in charge of Medbay, but she was now beginning to worry about her ability to cope. The whole ship rocking under the blasts of the attack wasn't helping them treat the injured Drazis.
Janie was trying to get a respirator mask on the Drazi Captain when he looked her straight in the eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry." She couldn't understand what he was apologizing for, until she felt the sharp pain and looked down to see the knife buried in her chest. Her last thought was that he must have had some knowledge of human anatomy, as he had stabbed her straight in the heart.
Captain Grensa looked around the room, awash with the blood of their human victims, and howled in despair. He screamed in anguish, "Are you satisfied? Now will you let us die?"
The voice in his head laughed back at him. [You have served your purpose and your Masters well.]
That voice had been in his head constantly since his ship had been captured two days before. He, his crew and his passengers, had all been taken aboard a Drakh ship and held down while 'things' had been attached to them. Since that time, his body and his mind had been relentlessly controlled. Grensa had fought the control at every moment, but the thing attached to his neck had never let go, never relaxed for a moment.
Grensa had watched, unable to do anything, as the thing that controlled his body had moved his ship to a point in hyperspace. Watched as members of his crew had sabotaged their own engines and released coolants into the air, chemicals that would kill them all in a few days. Watched as he, himself, had sent out the distress signal that he had known was designed to lure someone to this point, into the trap the Drakh had prepared.
Grensa had listened to his own voice, haggling with the Excalibur's Captain over the price of their rescue, and despaired. He couldn't warn them, he couldn't do anything other than watch his own body being used by the alien monster that now controlled it.
He had thought it couldn't get worse, but when they finally arrived in the Excalibur's Medbay, it did. The whole ship had been ringing and shaking under the attack but the humans still tried to care for him and his people. Grensa knew that the Drazi would never have placed human lives above their own safety, and he had felt ashamed. That shame had turned to horror as he'd seen his own hand shifting inside his jacket and withdrawing the knife that had been hidden there. A part of his mind had registered the fact that any more sophisticated weapon would have been detected by the scanners a ship such as the Excalibur would inevitably have in its landing bay. But a non-metallic knife went undetected, and it was all that had been needed to kill the unarmed, defenseless human woman who had been trying to help him.
When the humans were dead, Grensa had watched as his body had been moved to a computer console and his fingers moved over the panel. He hadn't understood the detail of the commands he had input, but he could see that he had fed some sort of virus into the computer, a virus that had spread and deleted every piece of data it encountered. The virus seemed to focus itself solely on medical data, leaving all other aspects of the ship's operation untouched, avoiding any alarm systems that might have detected its progress.
When the medical databanks were completely wiped, Grensa howled his despair and looked around the Medbay, seeing the other Drazis looking back, their faces showing their shame and horror at what they'd been forced to do. Every human in the place lay dead, by their hands. Grensa looked down to see his own hand, still clutching the bloody knife, moving toward his throat. A quick glance around the room showed him that every other Drazi present was being moved in the same way.
The voice in his head spoke softly. [Yes, you can die. In fact, you must die. It may comfort you to know that we die with you.]
The knife slashed across his throat, and Grensa fell to the floor, watching his life's blood pumping out, to mix with the human blood that already coated everything. He felt the thing on his neck detach itself and watched as it scurried into the pool of red in front of him. It stopped, flexed its tentacles once, then dissolved in front of his eyes, until nothing remained.
Grensa's last thought was that no one would ever know that he wasn't responsible for the atrocity that had been committed here.
Gideon shook his head as he came around and wished he hadn't. The pain in his head and the pain in his shoulder were roughly equal and equally agonizing. He stumbled to his feet, half aware that he couldn't move his right arm, and staggered to the front of the bridge. He realized that he'd only been unconscious for a few seconds. The Excalibur was still tumbling crazily through space, with the Drakh ships heading straight for them.
A quick glance around the bridge showed him that half of the crew was either unconscious or dead at their posts, and the other half in not much better condition than he was. His eyes paused for a split second as he noticed Matheson's body, flung up against a bulkhead, with those parts of his face not covered in blood looking totally white. With a quick prayer that John was only hurt, not dead, Gideon turned his attention back to the consoles in front of him.
He hit the communication controls and sent out a call for medics and the emergency bridge crew to report ASAP, then reached for his Second Officer and helmsman, who lay slumped across his console. Pulling the crewman upright with his left hand, Gideon knew that the man had to be dead. He'd left half of his face and some of his brains smeared across the panel. Murmuring an apology beneath his breath, the Captain pushed the helmsman's body out of his seat, and took his place. Wiping the mess of blood and brains aside with his sleeve, Gideon gave silent thanks that he'd worn his jacket with sleeves that day. The thought of doing that with his bare arm made him shudder, as he tried to bring the ship under control, operating one-handed and left-handed at that.
He became aware that someone had slipped into the seat next to him and looked around to see Lieutenant Jackson taking over the weapons controls. Gideon managed a pained half grin and said, "Get the guns firing and try to gather the fighters back together. See how many we have left, while I get us back on an even keel."
Looking back up into the viewscreen, Gideon could see the five Drakh ships still coming at them. He shook his head again to clear it and gasped at Jackson, "Where in hell are the medics? Why aren't they up here?"
Jackson kept focused on her task as she reported brusquely, "We had reports of fighting in Medbay. I sent Marines there to tackle it, and I'm waiting for their report now, sir."
As Gideon fought for control over his ship, his head spinning nearly as fast as the Excalibur, he thought, [Oh fuck! I let in a Trojan horse. Those bastard Drazis were part of the whole damned plot. I'll kill every one of them. I'll hang them from the roof of the landing bay and to hell with Earthforce regs!]
It was partly the Excalibur's eccentric motion that had kept them alive so long. The Drakh had been unable to bring their weapons to bear on a target that was moving so erratically, but Gideon knew the strain that motion was putting on his ship would soon become intolerable and she'd tear herself apart. Slowly, using thrusters, he brought the ship under control, while Jackson kept the guns firing and brought the remaining fighters back into the battle.
Reports started to flood in from damage control teams all over the ship and the news ranged from bad to horrendous. Jump engines were out, most of the main engine power had failed and the Excalibur was holed in a dozen places. The only power they had left was to thrusters, life support was struggling, and if they kept firing their guns at the current rate, they would use all their energy reserves in less than an hour. Over half of his crew was injured, many incapable of carrying out their duties, but somehow they kept fighting. Gideon had never been as proud of his people as he was at that moment.
Jackson's voice broke his concentration as he tried to maneuver away from the oncoming Drakh ships. "Jump points opening, Captain."
The original five Drakh attackers dropped out of hyperspace behind them. They were now totally surrounded.
Gideon whispered, "Oh, fuck it," and heard Jackson's murmured reply.
"Amen to that."
The Captain took a deep breath and looked around at the young, dark Lieutenant sitting next to him. "Let's take some of the bastards out with us."
Jackson swallowed and nodded, looking at him anxiously, waiting for her orders. Gideon knew she was well aware that they were going to die, and she was barely holding it together. She was looking to him to provide her death with some meaning.
Gideon programmed a heading straight at the largest of their attackers, awkwardly sluggish with his left hand, and hit every thruster his ship had left working. Their movement was painfully slow. A garbage scow could have evaded them at that speed, but he wanted the Drakh to think that was all they had left. He wanted them to think that this pitiful attempt to ram the Drakh mother-ship was his last desperate gamble. Well, not quite. He had one card left up his sleeve, and it was an ace.
"Bring the main gun on line." He whispered the command, and Jackson looked startled. She hadn't noticed that in the litany of damage reports they'd received, no mention had been made of the main gun. It was still fully functional, but would take every last erg of energy the ship had. Gideon didn't think that this time he'd get power back in one minute as the designers promised, but that hardly mattered. In the one minute they were dead in space, the Drakh would blow them to pieces. But they were going to do that anyway, so he may as well take at least one of the enemy with him. Gideon wanted an honor guard when he entered Valhalla, or they might not let him in.
The Captain continued quietly, "Tell the fighters to scatter and hide. If they're lucky, someone will turn up looking for us before they run out of oxygen and power."
Jackson nodded, gave the orders to the fighters and powered up the main gun. Then they sat and watched as they slowly approached the enemy. In the back of Gideon's mind, a part of him was screaming at a God he wasn't sure existed.
[Why now? Why didn't you take me ten years ago when you had the chance? Why did you have to wait until I had so much more to lose? Does that give you some sort of perverse pleasure? To wait until I have some hope of happiness, some chance of a future that doesn't end in total despair, then snatch it all away? And just to add another little twist of agony you decide to take John, too. After all the battles he's fought, the prejudice, the pain, the loneliness, he finally finds the chance of happiness and that's not allowed. You grab it back, you take his life and the lives of everyone on this ship, right at the moment when we've done what we had to, achieved the impossible--saved humanity. None of that is good enough, is it? So you punish us by killing us all. Well, damn you. Damn you to hell! I'm going down fighting!]
The Drakh mother-ship was in range, obviously contemptuous of the wreck approaching it, as it hadn't even tried to fire on them.
"Fire main gun."
Gideon's last sight as the viewscreen grayed out was the Drakh mother-ship being speared on the end of the lightning bolt that emerged from the main gun. All power died in the Excalibur. She had given up the last of her energy in that one killing blast. The lights dimmed and the control panels in front of the Captain faded and died.
Gideon waited to die with his ship.
And waited.
And waited.
Nothing happened.
No fiery blast. No screaming death. Nothing. There was only darkness and silence until Gideon began to wonder if he'd died so quickly that he hadn't noticed, and this was the afterlife. The whisper from beside him banished that idea from his mind.
"Captain?" Jackson sounded scared.
Well, she had every right to be scared. Gideon almost laughed. He was more scared than he'd ever been in his life before and that included the time he'd spent hanging in space, waiting to die, after the Cerberus had been destroyed. But Captains weren't allowed to be afraid. Correction. Captains weren't allowed to show that they were afraid, so he swallowed hard and made sure his voice didn't quaver as he said, "Lieutenant?"
Her whisper sounded loud in the silence and darkness. "Are we still alive?"
Gideon laughed, but it sounded uncertain even to him. "I guess so. Just don't ask me how, OK? I haven't a clue."
A tiny glow in the panel in front of him alerted Gideon to the fact that power was returning to his ship. As the lights came back on, the viewscreen flickered and the image that appeared there spoke.
"That is such a typical male weapon, Captain. One big bang, then you're useless for anything afterwards."
Gideon started to laugh and this time it sounded slightly hysterical, so he clamped down on it. "Captain Ivanova, has anyone ever told you that you are the most beautiful woman in the galaxy?" He saw a momentary flicker of pain in her face and hurried on, "Where are you? How in the hell did you get here? Are you the reason we're not dead?"
Ivanova smiled. "My ship, the John Procter, and two other Warlock class destroyers were requested by President Sheridan to provide you with an honor escort home. We have another three Earthforce destroyers with us, and we are now busy whipping the asses off these Drakh bastards, who have messed up your ship. Yes, we're the reason you're not dead, and any time you feel like joining in the fight with that flying phallic symbol of yours, feel free. We took two of them out when we jumped in and took them by surprise. With the mother-ship you destroyed, that leaves seven of them to six of us, so if you'd care to try and get that main gun up again, we could do with the help."
Gideon grinned back at her. "I might be useless for a short while after I've fired my main gun, but you'd be amazed at how quickly I can get it up again."
Ivanova's grin was challenging. "Let's hope you can do more than talk, Captain. Ivanova out."
The screen went blank as Gideon turned to Jackson, who sat next to him with a grin nearly as wide as his. "I hope to God I haven't overstated our prowess. Do we have anything left, Lieutenant?"
Jackson nodded, so Gideon looked back at the tactical display, now able to see what had happened while they had been blacked out. The six Earthforce ships had jumped into normal space all around the Excalibur, setting up a defensive ring around their wounded colleague. Taking the Drakh totally by surprise, they had destroyed two of the enemy ships immediately, and Gideon could see the debris fields that marked where those ships had been. They had then joined battle with the Drakh.
The three Warlock class ships, the John Proctor, the Giles Corey and the George Burroughs, were holding their own, but the older ships, the Chiron, Demeter and Thetis, were struggling against stronger opponents. If the Excalibur could help, those ships needed it.
Using the little power he had left in thrusters, Gideon turned the Excalibur until it faced the Chiron's opponents. Two ships of the Drakh fleet were attacking the smaller ship. Gideon targeted his main gun on the larger of the two and fired. His ship seemed to die again, and this time it took even longer before power came back up. He just had to trust the other Earthforce ships to keep the enemy off his back while he was dead in space. Somehow they did, and when he could get readings up again, Gideon could see that another two shots would drain them of everything other than basic life support, at least until they could get the main engines repaired. So be it.
During their blackout, the Giles Corey had taken out another of the Drakh, so the enemy was now down to five ships. Now the Earthforce ships had the upper hand. Gideon fired again and waited out the silence and darkness that followed.
This time, when sensors returned, he could see that they'd won. Only two Drakh ships remained, and the Chiron, George Burroughs, and Thetis were closing in on one, while the John Proctor, Giles Corey, and Demeter had the other ship surrounded. Gideon watched in satisfaction as the two remaining enemies were destroyed. He hadn't had to totally drain his ship, he still had enough energy to run life support, maintain the sensors and even run the bullet cars.
Now he had to find out just how badly his ship and crew had been hurt. He tried to call Medbay to find out what was going on, but got no response. Finally, he made contact with his Master at Arms, who had led the Marines who had been sent in to sort out the disturbance. "Sergeant Healy? What's going on down there? We have wounded up here on the bridge and we need medics." From the corner of his eye, Gideon saw John Matheson stirring and sent silent thanks to the God he'd been cursing a short time before.
Healy's voice was hesitant. "I think you'd better get down here, Captain. And if any of the other ships has medics to spare, I think we'd better get them over here."
Gideon pushed upright from the helm station, using his left arm to help himself stand. During the battle and the euphoria of survival, he had almost forgotten his injuries, but now the pain came flooding back. All of his muscles had stiffened as he'd sat at the console, and every single one of them protested at his movement. Just to make his life complete, he had a thumping headache and his right shoulder was sending shooting pains through his chest, which made breathing difficult. Gideon wondered if he might have cracked some ribs when he'd hit the command console during his flight out of his chair. [No time to worry about that now. Whatever's broken can get fixed later.]
Jackson turned and looked up at him anxiously as he stood. "Do you need some help, Captain? Should I call someone?"
Gideon shook his head. "I'll live. Call the fighters back in, will you? Contact the John Proctor and arrange for Captain Ivanova to start sending medics across here, and can you get the damage control teams working on trying to put the ship back together again? I know Lieutenant Matheson has been overseeing your training, but has he taken you through the drills you need?"
Jackson nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir. I can do that, sir. Is there anything else you need me to do?"
The Captain smiled at the young junior Lieutenant, grateful for her energy and enthusiasm. [I'm glad someone around here has some, because I'm clean out of both,] he thought as he told her to carry on supervising the repair work and call him in Medbay if she needed anything.
He turned to see that John Matheson had struggled up and was now sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. Gideon suspected that John's headache probably matched his own. He walked over to where John was sitting and squatted in front of his XO, groaning slightly as the muscles in his back and legs communicated just how much they hated being moved.
Matheson looked up and tried to focus on his Captain, but Gideon could see that the Lieutenant was still half out of it. "John? Can you hear me? I think you have a concussion and I probably shouldn't move you, but I don't think we're going to get you any treatment up here for a while. So if you can stand, I want to get you to Medbay. Do you understand?"
The XO nodded, then grimaced before speaking very quietly. "Yes, sir. Just don't yell, OK?"
Gideon laughed softly, then stood upright and held out his left hand. "Come on, Lieutenant, we've got work to do. You can't lie around here all day, you know."
Matheson reached for his Captain's hand, pulled himself upright, then let go quickly. Focusing on Gideon again, he wiped some of the blood out of his eyes and hurriedly apologized. "Sorry, Captain. I couldn't help it, when we touched I picked up..." he trailed off in dismay.
"It's OK. I don't think we have many secrets left between us. Can you walk?" Gideon knew that John would have picked up on his pain and the guilt that was nearly overwhelming him, but there was nothing he could do about that. As his XO wobbled slightly, the Captain held him up with his good arm, careful not to make skin contact again.
As they staggered towards the exit, Gideon could see other members of the original bridge crew stirring, being attended by their colleagues, but he could also see three bodies that were totally still. Telling himself that there was nothing he could do, that by getting down to Medbay and finding out what the problem was, he was doing what he was best qualified to do, he half-carried Matheson off the bridge.
Matheson sat on the bullet car, holding his head in his hands. The way it felt right now, he thought it might fall off if he didn't support it in some way. He was still having trouble focusing both his eyes and his thoughts, and was desperately trying to make sense of what was going on around him. It didn't help that his mental screens were not functioning properly, and his head was full of the noise created by the random thoughts of everyone on the Excalibur.
The XO looked across at his Captain, who was leaning back against the wall of the bullet car, his eyes closed. The left side of Gideon's face was a mass of bruising and swelling, and a cut on his temple had bled unchecked down his cheek and neck, soaking into his sweater, the dark red of the blood showing clearly against the brighter red of the uniform. His right arm hung limp at his side and Matheson knew that, at the very least, the shoulder was dislocated, from the angle at which it stuck out. He could feel Gideon's pain from where he sat and wondered how his Captain had kept going for so long when he was in such agony.
Matheson looked back at the floor and tried to pull himself together. Waves of nausea kept sweeping over him, and he knew that he was suffering from concussion. As they had staggered to the bullet car, Gideon had given him a brief description of what had happened after the Excalibur had jumped back to normal space. The XO had tried to take it all in, but still wasn't quite sure what had happened in Medbay. Something about the Drazi they had rescued, but he couldn't figure out why the medics hadn't come to the bridge.
For the moment, Matheson tried to forget that puzzle and concentrated on quelling his nausea. Using the disciplines he'd learned in the Psi Corps, he thought he'd succeeded until the bullet car started to decelerate. The motion was enough to make him feel seriously sick, but he was determined that Gideon wouldn't have to half-carry him again. His Captain had enough problems without having to worry about a First Officer who couldn't stand on his own two feet.
As the bullet car came to a halt, Matheson pushed himself upright and watched Gideon do the same. He waved his Captain away as he offered his one good arm in support. "I'm fine." Even in his current state, Matheson could see the skeptical look on Gideon's face. "OK, so I'm not fine, but I can walk as far as Medbay. Lead the way."
He followed his Captain off the bullet car and down the corridor to Medbay, making sure he stayed in the rear so Gideon wouldn't see him having to put his hand out and lean on the wall to help himself stay on his feet.
Gideon walked ahead of John, well aware that his XO was using the wall for support, but also knowing that John's pride demanded that he make his own way. Arriving at the entrance to Medbay, he was met by Sergeant Healy, who moved quickly to stop him from entering.
Healy looked uninjured, but his complexion was pale and his face drawn. He spoke quickly and quietly. "Before you go in there, Captain, I should warn you that it's a mess. I went in with my men and stayed long enough to check that there's no one left alive, then we got out. We're going to need a full forensics team to go over the place before we can start cleaning up, but there's no one on board qualified to do that now. We're going to have to get help from the other ships."
The Captain tried to take in what Healy was saying to him. Forensics? Well, yes, if some of his people had been killed in there by the Drazi, then technically, it was a murder scene and would have to be fully recorded and documented. But why did they need help from the other ships for that? He had several medical staff who were qualified to carry out such a recording, surely they couldn't all be...
Gideon felt sick, suddenly realizing the enormity of what had happened down here. Only half aware that Matheson had arrived at his side, he spoke quietly to the Sergeant. "Open the doors. I need to do a basic visual inspection for my report to Earthforce. Then we'll seal the place until we can get a forensics team assembled." As Healy went to open the doors, Gideon reached out and touched the Sergeant's arm to attract his attention. "You're sure there's no one alive in there?"
Healy shook his head. "We checked. We picked up a couple of medical scanners and took readings. No one survived."
Gideon swallowed hard and nodded for the Sergeant to open the doors, bracing himself for what lay beyond.
The first thing that hit him was the smell. The overpowering stench of death flowed over him and he heard John start to retch beside him. Then he looked into the room and saw red--literally. Everything he could see was red. Blood coated the floor, the walls, the furniture, the computer consoles--everything. The Medbay was awash with blood. Gideon had seen some appalling sights in his life, helped treat friends hit by PPG blasts, tied tourniquets around limbs half-torn off in battle, but he'd never seen anything this bad.
The bodies he could see from the doorway were slumped in every position imaginable, the humans mainly showing signs of stab wounds to the chest, although some had obviously had their throats slit. Every Drazi he could see had died the same way. Their throats had been cut, deeply, savagely, in some cases deep enough so they were almost decapitated, and Gideon couldn't understand how they had managed to do that to themselves. But it was obvious that they had done so, as every one of them had a knife either still clasped in their hand or close by.
The Captain felt as if he'd been paralyzed. Time seemed to have slowed as he looked through that door into hell. He couldn't move, and he wasn't even sure if he was breathing. A remote part of his mind still functioned and he heard himself thinking, [Shock. This is shock. It's OK. It's normal. Don't panic. You can handle this.]
Gideon wanted to laugh hysterically at his own thoughts. [Handle this? I can handle it? How can I handle it when I did this to them? This is my fault, my responsibility. I let those bastards in and I didn't protect my people. That's my job, that's what I'm supposed to do. I'm supposed to keep my crew safe. I'm not supposed to let them get butchered like animals in an abattoir.] That last thought nearly finished him. The scene in front of him started to blur, and he barely managed to whisper to Healy, "Close the door. Seal it."
Taking deep breaths, Gideon reached out his left hand and leaned on the wall, his head down and his eyes closed while he worked on getting himself back under control. He was half-aware of Healy holding Matheson up, while John vomited repeatedly. [Nice going, Matt, you brought John down here to get him fixed up and you've damn near finished him off.] The shaft of self- hatred and contempt that accompanied the thought gave him the strength he needed to straighten up and turn to Healy.
"Sergeant. Get one of your men to help Lieutenant Matheson to his quarters." He turned and smiled weakly as John protested that he was all right. "John, you're very far from all right."
Matheson straightened and pulled himself away from Healy's support. "I'm in no worse condition than you are, Captain. I'll manage."
Gideon shook his head. "The fact that it's your breakfast decorating the floor right now proves you wrong. Go to your quarters and rest. That's an order. I'll send a medic there are soon as the real emergencies are dealt with, then you can come back and relieve me. OK?" The latter was a sop to John's pride. Gideon knew damn well that as soon as a medic saw John in his current condition, he was going to be signed off from duty for days.
Matheson managed a shaky half-smile and salute. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
One of Healy's men steadied the Lieutenant as he left the corridor. Gideon watched him go, knowing that there was only one reason that his own breakfast wasn't sitting on the deck next to John's. He hadn't eaten breakfast.
The Captain turned to Healy and ordered him to have Medbay sealed and to put a guard on it until the forensic team arrived. Then he staggered to the nearest communication panel, and put a call through to the John Proctor. When Captain Ivanova came on screen, he explained what had happened on board, arranged for a medical investigation team to be assembled, and for his more seriously injured crew to be shuttled over to the other ships.
When he'd done everything he could think of, Gideon straightened and spoke formally. "Captain Ivanova, as you're the senior Captain present, I'm turning myself over to you for remand. A Board of Inquiry will need to establish the degree of negligence involved in this incident, but Earthforce regulations require you to suspend me from duty, pending that Board." He relaxed slightly as he continued, "The problem is that I have no one over here to whom I can pass command. My First Officer is injured and I've sent him off duty. My Second Officer was at the helm when we were attacked, and he's dead. Can you send someone to take over?"
Gideon watched as Ivanova's eyes narrowed. "I'll send someone over, but not to put you on remand. Your injuries need attention, Captain, and we'll discuss the issue of negligence later. For the moment, when Lieutenant Grigoria arrives, he'll relieve you of command while you obtain medical treatment, then we'll see where we go from there. Ivanova out." The screen went blank before Gideon could protest.
Having made his way back to the bridge, Gideon spent the next half-hour working with Jackson on putting his ship and crew back together. The damage the Excalibur had received was significant and would take days to fix. The damage to his crew was worse. Apart from the Medbay massacre, twenty-three crew members had died when the jump point was detonated. Over fifty percent of the survivors had received significant injuries ranging from broken limbs to serious burns. The rest had minor injuries, but there was hardly a person on board who didn't need some form of medical treatment.
The other Earthforce ships had sent every nurse and doctor they could spare and seventy-four of Gideon's people were being evacuated to their Medbays. Engineers from every ship were swarming on board the Excalibur, working with the walking wounded of his own crew to start repairs.
A medic arrived on the bridge, apparently with direct instructions from Ivanova to treat Gideon before she did anything else. The Captain sat quietly in his command chair while she ran a regenerator over his face, feeling the headache that had pounded at him for an eternity fading under the gentle vibrations emitted by the instrument. The medic had just started treating his arm and shoulder when Lieutenant Grigoria arrived. A swarthy, short and stocky man, Gideon was relieved to see that Ivanova had sent him her First Officer. He could relax knowing this man would take care of his ship and his crew. Quietly asking the medic to wait a moment, Gideon stood to greet his replacement and hand over command. As he did so, the world blurred and grayed out, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
When Gideon awoke, he found he was lying on the bunk in his quarters. Looking down at himself, he could see that someone had taken his boots off and removed his jacket and sweater. When he remembered using his sleeve to wipe up his Second Officer's brains, Gideon could only feel grateful, and hoped that the jacket had been taken away and burned. Puzzled at first as to why his sweater had been removed, he then saw that his arm had been immobilized by an almost invisible, transparent plastic brace fitted around his shoulder, pinning his right arm to his chest. If they'd done that with the sweater on, he might have been wearing the garment for days: blood, sweat, and all.
Pushing himself upright with his left arm, Gideon swung his feet to the floor, then sat still while a wave of dizziness passed. He lifted his hand to touch the left side of his face, probing carefully. It didn't hurt and as far as he could tell, any swelling had gone. Maybe he could face the sight of himself in the mirror after all. He struggled to his feet and made his way across the room to see just how bad he looked.
The image that looked back surprised him. Whatever cuts and bruises he'd suffered to his face had completely healed. There were no signs of injury and no pain where he'd head-butted the floor of the bridge. Only his hazel eyes looked mortally wounded as they stared back at him from the mirror.
His shoulder and arm were another matter. Gideon gave silent thanks that he'd been unconscious when his dislocated shoulder had been put back into its socket. He knew that would have hurt like hell. The skin on his shoulder, back and front, was still darkened by bruising and he could see other marks down the length of his ribcage and along his right collarbone. Given how effective the regenerators were, the Captain guessed that he must have broken the collarbone as well as cracked some ribs. The whole area was still very sore, but at least he could now breathe freely.
Gideon checked the time and realized that he'd only been out for a few hours. As he moved to the wardrobe and pulled out a T-shirt, he wondered what had been happening to his ship and crew while he'd been unconscious. He managed to pull the T-shirt over his head and got his left arm through the sleeve, then pulled the other side down over his right shoulder and arm. It was a tight fit, but he could just get it on. Looking at his boots, the thought of trying to get them on and fasten them, using only his left hand, was too exhausting. The Captain gave up and walked barefoot through to the living area of his quarters, slumping down into the chair behind his desk.
"Computer on. Access..." before he could continue, Captain Ivanova's image appeared on the screen and spoke.
"I've recorded this message to appear as soon as you try to use the computer. It will also alert me that you're awake. My ship's doctor has signed you off-duty until she pronounces you fit again, and I mean off- duty, so I've had your access to the ship's logs blocked until I release them. Don't even think about trying to leave your quarters until I say you can. You're not on remand or under arrest, but if that's what I have to do to make sure you give yourself some recovery time, I'll do it. So if you don't want to spend the next few days kicking your heels in the brig, I suggest you relax, put on some music, read a book, or do whatever you normally do to unwind. If that usually involves a partner, tough."
Ivanova's grin was wicked as she went on, "You'll have to play patience, Captain, not poker." Gideon snorted as he caught her double meaning. As if he'd have the energy to poke anyone or anything right now. Ivanova leaned forward to disconnect the recording, then paused. "I know I'm wasting my breath, but try not to worry about your crew or your ship. Everyone who needs treatment is getting it, and your people are doing an amazing job in pulling your ship back together. You can be very proud of them, Captain. I'll drop by later. Ivanova out."
The screen went dead, and Gideon sat back in his chair, considering. He'd heard what a hard-ass Ivanova could be, and knew that she'd meant every word. If he tried to break the codes blocking him from the ship's logs or leave his quarters, she'd throw him in the brig without a qualm. He decided to accept the inevitable, and for once in his life, do as he was told. Gideon wasn't sure he had the energy to do anything else. [And I'd look pretty damned stupid turning up on the bridge barefoot, anyway.] He just wished Ivanova had given him some news about John's condition.
Sighing deeply, the Captain looked around his quarters. The shelves looked bare and he could see that many of the items he'd kept there were missing. He realized that everything breakable had gone. They must have been smashed when the Excalibur was tossed like a straw out of the jump point. Someone must have been in and cleaned up the mess while he was unconscious, and they'd done a good job.
His chess set was back on his desk where it belonged, but they'd put all the pieces back into their starting positions, not knowing how far he'd got with the game. Most importantly, the cube Deborah had given him, with the pictures of her and Marcus, was right in the middle of his desk. He snatched it and pressed the corner, praying that it hadn't been damaged. When he saw Deborah's image smiling out at him, with Marcus held to her shoulder, Gideon smiled in relief. He carefully replaced the cube in the center of his desk where he could look at it, leaving the image he loved best on display.
The Captain then groaned as he remembered some other fragile items that had probably been lost in the crash. He pushed himself to his feet and padded through to the kitchen area, opening the cupboards when he got there. Sure enough, the place where he'd kept his completely illegal supply of wine and scotch was empty. There was still a faint smell of alcohol in the cabinet, but the cleaning crew had done a damned good job of getting rid of it. Gideon sighed again; he could have used a serious slug of scotch right about then.
Wandering back into the living area, Gideon wondered what to do with himself. He was exhausted but too strung out to sleep. He knew he'd never be able to concentrate on a book... BOOK! He ran through to the bedroom, wrenching out the drawer from his dresser, and grabbing the book from inside. He inspected it carefully and sighed with relief when he could see no signs of damage. Gideon had had the book valued and knew that it would bring him just enough money. It was the only asset he had left. Without it, he wouldn't be able to buy... He pushed that thought aside. He wouldn't let himself think about his plans for the future, not until he knew whether he had a future outside of a military prison.
Replacing the book carefully in the drawer, he turned as he heard the door buzzer and called, "Enter," as he walked through to the living area. The doors opened to show Captain Ivanova standing in the doorway.
Susan Ivanova looked carefully at the man in the doorway. His face was no longer distorted by bruising and swelling, and the blood that had covered it earlier had been washed away, but the pain was still clearly visible. Except the pain was no longer physical, it was mental and emotional, and showed mainly in his hazel-brown eyes. Her eyes drifted down to his right arm and shoulder, enclosed within his T-shirt, and she smiled. "You look like The Hunchback of Notre Dame."
Gideon's grin was twisted as he stood back to let her into the room. "Well, you don't look much like Esmeralda, but come in. Although this can hardly be considered Sanctuary."
Ivanova laughed and sat as Gideon waved her into the chair by his desk. She watched as he lowered himself into his own chair, moving slowly and carefully. He was obviously still in some discomfort. "How's the shoulder?" she asked.
"Sore. How are my crew and my ship? How's my First Officer?"
Ivanova leaned forward across the desk as she answered. "Recovering, all of them. Lieutenant Matheson is sleeping, but my doctor says he'll be fine. I'll give you access to the damage and repair reports when we're finished." She heard Gideon let out a soft sigh of relief and continued, "But first I need to take a statement from you for the Board of Inquiry." She produced a data crystal from her pocket and dropped it into the reader/recorder on Gideon's desk. "In your own words, Captain, tell me what happened from the time you received the distress call."
Captain Ivanova sat back and listened as Gideon spoke, watching him closely. She could see a man drowning in guilt and pain, a man close to his limits. If she didn't handle this very carefully, she feared that he might just let himself be thrown out of Earthforce, dishonorably discharged. That was exactly what John Sheridan would have done in these circumstances, and Ivanova could see many similarities between the man opposite her and her old friend. She was determined that Gideon was not going to throw his career away. Earthforce needed officers of his caliber.
He'd gone through the history of the distress call and his decision to respond, and had moved on to his visit to Medbay when Ivanova stopped him. "Before you tell me about your meeting with your Chief of Medicine, I ought to advise you that we can't find her body. We don't know what the Drazi did with her, but..." She trailed off as Gideon shook his head.
"She wasn't there. I got her off the ship before we went after the Drazi. She's on her way to Earth now, with all the data we had on the cure."
Ivanova slumped back in her seat, staring at Gideon with her mouth open. "She's alive? Dr. Chambers is alive? With all the data?" She couldn't believe what she'd just heard. Maybe this whole thing wasn't a complete disaster, after all.
Gideon nodded and explained how he had arranged for his CMO to be taken on ahead, while the Excalibur answered the distress call. Ivanova started to laugh with relief.
"Captain, when I walked in here, I thought that Earth was finished and that you'd be lucky if they didn't string you up from a flagpole in Geneva. Now I think you might just get a Medal of Honor."
Gideon looked across at the woman opposite and frowned. She'd kept her face carefully guarded since she'd entered his quarters, but he'd seen enough messengers with bad tidings to know that she didn't bear good news. But if it wasn't about his ship or his crew, what was it? Her dark brows had been drawn together in a fixed frown, and her rare smiles had looked strained.
She didn't look quite like the pictures he'd seen, maybe because she was out of uniform and she wore her hair loose, the dark curls falling around her shoulders, rather than pulled tightly back, the way it had been in the pictures.
He remembered watching her when she had been the chief broadcaster of the Voice of the Resistance, in the bad old days before the battle for Earth, when Sheridan had led the Earthforce ships to retake Earth from the dictatorship that President Clark had put in place. Gideon had risked court- martial, along with some of his crew mates on the Agamemnon, to watch her reports. Ivanova had always appeared cool and calm, totally professional and completely trustworthy in those broadcasts. Her icy gray eyes were much scarier in real life.
Gideon may never have met Captain Susan Ivanova before, but she was a legend in Earthforce. Second in command to John Sheridan on B5, she'd gone on to become one of the most respected Captains in the fleet. Her reputation was that she was tough but fair, a good friend and a bad enemy. Gideon knew that her evidence at the Board of Inquiry would be critical. If she decided that his actions had been justified and appropriate, he just might be exonerated. If Ivanova thought he'd been reckless and negligent, then he'd probably spend the rest of his life behind bars.
The problem was that Gideon believed he deserved to be punished for his actions. His decisions had cost his entire medical team their lives and the Captain still didn't know how many others had died or been crippled. While he had gone through the background to the rescue, quietly, keeping his emotions tightly under control, Gideon had kept his eyes firmly on the image in the cube in the center of his desk. That was what he had to fight for. Not his own future, but his future with Deborah and their son.
When Ivanova interrupted him and then started to laugh, Gideon felt confused. "I don't understand. What difference does it make? The medical team is still dead; the fact that Sarah is alive doesn't change that. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I got her clear, but that won't bring back the people who were murdered by those..." He bit his lip to stop himself. Whatever responsibility the Drazi had in the deaths of his crew, the prime responsibility was his. He had brought the bastards onto his ship. He would never forgive himself for that. Why hadn't he ordered them searched for weapons? What if he'd...? He brought himself up sharply. This was no time for 'what-ifs'.
Ivanova leaned forward and gave him a relieved smile. "It makes a lot of difference, Captain. It's the difference between life and death for humanity. When the Drazis killed your medical team, they also wiped everything from your medical databases. We don't know how they did it, the computer virus they used is incredibly sophisticated, but there is not one piece of data left on this ship about the cure to the Drakh plague. We thought it had been lost, and with the loss of your entire medical team, it looked like we would have to start over. But if you got Dr. Chambers and the data off the ship," She paused and looked quizzically at him, "actually, that could explain another mystery."
Gideon waited for her to continue, wondering what she was talking about.
"We were on our way to rendezvous with you at a fairly leisurely pace. If we'd carried on at that speed, we'd have arrived about three hours too late to save your ass, if we'd found you at all. You were far enough off the beacon by the time of the attack that we might never have found what was left of the Excalibur. But we received a message." Ivanova smiled as she looked across at Gideon. "Now, I think I can guess who sent it. At the time, we couldn't figure out where the hell it was coming from. There was no sign of any ship, and we couldn't pin down the source; it just seemed to come from all around. Every ship got the same message at the same moment."
Gideon frowned. "What was the message?"
Ivanova smiled again. "That the Excalibur could be in trouble and that we should haul ass. Well, it was a bit more polite than that, but not much. It gave a set of co-ordinates in hyperspace that I now know matched the location of the Drazi ship. We were concerned that it might be a trap of some kind, but we came at top speed anyway, on full battle alert. When we got to the location, there were no ships there, but we picked up energy patterns indicating weapons had been fired. With no sign of any ships in hyperspace or engine trails, there was only one place everyone could have gone, so..."
Gideon interrupted her. "So you dropped into normal space and into the middle of a battle."
Ivanova shook her head gently. "That wasn't a battle, Captain, that was annihilation. With odds of ten to one, and with the degree of damage the Excalibur had suffered, you didn't stand a chance. You were dead in space when we dropped in, and the pack was gathering for the kill."
Gideon nodded. "I know. I didn't expect to live long enough to regain power after that last shot from the main gun." He paused, his head down, reliving the moment when he had prepared himself to die. Taking a deep breath, he went on. "I guess your message must have come from a Technomage called Alwyn. It would be just like him to hide his ship and make his message untraceable. So when I got him to take Sarah away, it looks like I not only saved their lives, but my own as well." He laughed weakly. "He is never going to let me forget that, you know. I'll spend the rest of my life hearing about this one, and this time I think he's earned it, even if he does keep saying 'turnips' to me."
Gideon watched the brief flicker of puzzlement cross Ivanova's face, but she chose to ignore his comment. She said, "It might have been him who sent the message, but the decision to get them off the ship was yours. If anyone saved the Excalibur, Captain, it was you."
Gideon shook his head and was about to deny it, when Ivanova butted in and instructed him to continue his story. He took a deep breath and went on, describing what had happened after Alwyn and Sarah had left. Telling another Captain, who understood the burden of responsibility he carried, somehow made some of his actions and decisions make more sense. Ivanova interrupted a few times, seeking clarification either about his actions or his motivations, but never being critical. Gideon found himself almost believing that what he had done wasn't so unforgivable--almost. He went on up to the point where Ivanova's face had appeared in his viewscreen. "You know, Captain, I meant what I said then. I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful sight."
Ivanova smiled and shook her head, then leaned forward to lift the cube from the center of his desk. She held it up to the light and examined it, before saying, "This proves you're lying. What is it? I've never seen anything like this before. And who is she?"
Gideon reached out to take it from her, gently, holding the cube carefully while he explained its source. He wanted to be sure it wasn't damaged, that it would never be damaged. He didn't feel as if he had much left to live for at that moment, and he wanted to hang on to the few things that were still precious to him. He went on, "She's the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, if I could just figure out a way to make that happen, and that's our son. Before you say anything, I should show you a more recent picture. He looks much better now." Gideon attempted another weak smile.
Ivanova looked puzzled as she said, "I didn't realize you were married."
Gideon shook his head and smiled sadly. "I'm not. We don't have a legal contract in place, but that doesn't change the fact that I want spend the rest of my life with her." He took a deep breath and asked, "So what do you think my chances are? What will a Board of Inquiry recommend for a Captain who got suckered into a fake distress call, allowed his ship to be boarded by hostiles, who didn't check closely enough to disarm them, who let his entire medical team be massacred, then nearly got his ship blown out of space? Oh, and endangered every man, woman, and child on Earth in the process. Do you think they have a cell deep and dark enough for me?" Gideon dreaded the answer, but he had to ask.
He watched Ivanova carefully as she leaned forward to respond. "Let me put this another way. What should we do with the Captain who found the cure to the Drakh plague and saved the human race from extinction? Who on his way home answered what appeared to be a legitimate distress call from a ship belonging to a member of the ISA? Who had the foresight to send his most important crew member and data critical to saving Earth on ahead, to remove the risk of that data being lost? Who managed to evade five enemy ships in hyperspace, and despite being seriously injured and his ship being badly damaged, managed to hang on until help arrived, thereby saving most of his crew and his ship? What should we do with that Captain?"
Gideon sat back and sighed. "It all depends on your perspective, doesn't it? I guess that saving that data and getting details of the viral screen back to Earth are the things that everyone will remember. No one will recall how badly I screwed up on the way home." He wished he could believe it would be that easy, but he knew that the families of his medical team would never forget his failings.
Ivanova shook her head. "You didn't screw up, Matt. You did your job and you did it well. Don't get hung up on the guilt. I know all about guilt, believe me. No one does guilt like Russians do, and Russian Jews do it better than anyone else. A man once gave up his life for me--literally swapped his life for mine, and it took me years to stop feeling guilty about his death, even though there was nothing I could have done." She pointed at the cube Gideon still cradled in his palm. "Focus on life, not death--the future, not the past. Find a way to be with your woman and your son, and to live."
Taking a deep breath, Ivanova unzipped her jacket and reached inside, pulling out a large flask, the outline of which Gideon had noticed when she arrived. "I heard that your 'medicinal' supplies had been lost." She waved the flask in front of Gideon and he could see that it contained a clear liquid. He looked a question at her. "Vodka. 80 proof. Got anything to put it in, or shall we take turns swigging from the bottle?"
Gideon fetched two metallic cups from the kitchen area, then sat and watched her pour, asking, "What does your doctor say about this? Am I allowed alcohol?"
Ivanova laughed, "This isn't alcohol, Captain. This medicine was prescribed by my ship's doctor as part of your treatment."
Lifting his cup in silent salute, Gideon took a sip and nearly choked. His eyes started to water and his admiration for the Captain sitting opposite increased, as she slugged her shot down without batting an eyelid. Gideon followed her example and held his cup out for a second measure. When he got his voice back, he half-croaked, "So, if you get to call me 'Matt', does that mean I can call you Susie?" His mouth ran ahead of his brain, which couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard himself say. [Must be the vodka talking!]
Ivanova's teeth showed but he didn't think she was smiling. "Susan is acceptable. Call me Susie, and they'll need to put your other arm in a brace, too."
Gideon laughed, and swallowed the second measure, starting to feel very warm and woozy. "What is it with women who served on B5? Captain Lochley insists on Elizabeth, and you on Susan. You know that Liz bit me once for calling her that? I'm not telling you where. Now you threaten to break my arm." He realized that he was getting drunk incredibly quickly and tried to remember when he had last eaten. He couldn't recall. Maybe drinking 80 proof vodka with Ivanova wasn't such a good idea right now. [To hell with it. It just might help me sleep and not wake up for a week.] He downed the refill Ivanova had given him.
The Captain could feel himself turning maudlin as he put the cup down on the desk, then leaned forward and propped his head on his one good arm. "Why do beautiful women always want to beat me up? Even she threatened to bite me when I tried to shorten her name." Gideon looked sadly into the cube on his desk, wishing that Deborah were with him, wanting to sleep with his head on her shoulder and her arms around him. That was the only place he could imagine feeling at peace. [God, I miss her so much.]
Ivanova leaned across the desk and picked up the cup, then pointed at the cube. "What's her name, then?"
Gideon smiled, fatuously. "Deborah. That's Deborah. Not Debby, or Debs or even Debsy, but Deborah. My Deborah." He looked down at his cube again and turned mournful as he thought of another beautiful woman. "How am I going to tell Sarah?" Gideon took the refilled cup back from Ivanova and swallowed the contents.
Ivanova looked at the man sitting across the desk from her, definitely the worse for wear, which was exactly what she'd intended. She planned on getting Gideon paralytic drunk, roll him into his bunk and let him sleep for as long as it took him to wake. She'd tackled most of the issues she'd wanted to raise, and had been looking for the right opportunity to talk about what had happened in Medbay. Now he'd presented her with that opportunity, but it was a good question. How in the hell was he going to tell Dr. Chambers that every one of her team had been murdered?
Having stopped off at the Excalibur's Medbay on her way to Gideon's quarters, Ivanova had gotten a brief glimpse of the carnage that had taken place there. The forensics team was progressing slowly and had made their initial report. The Excalibur medical team had been brutally dispatched, but at least it didn't seem that any of them had suffered for long. The Drazi had been efficient in their mayhem. She watched as Gideon's gaze slowly focused on her and he asked, "Why did they do it? What could have made them murder my people and then themselves? How do I explain this to Sarah?" His words were slurred but the pain in his eyes was clear enough.
Ivanova poured him another drink, sighed, and shook her head. "I don't know the answers to those questions, and I wonder if we'll ever know. It's clear that the Drakh wanted to sabotage any chance of your getting that data home, but why should a group of Drazi help them? We don't know. Initial analyses don't show any indications of the use of drugs." What the Drazis had done was a mystery, and Ivanova wasn't sure that they'd ever find the answer.
She smiled gently at Gideon as he emptied his cup, then she continued, "The Drazi are aggressive and suspicious, but they're not easily forced into anything they don't want to do. Bastards broke my foot on B5 when I was trying to stop them fighting!" The memory of her eventual solution to that fight made Ivanova smile. [Green and purple indeed!] She sobered as she saw the pain clearly visible in Gideon's eyes, and poured them both another drink. The metal cups they were using prevented him from seeing that she'd hardly touched what she'd poured for herself.
As he threw back another measure, Ivanova continued quietly, "What's really amazing is that the Drakh thought it was necessary to murder your medical team and wipe out that data. They sent ten ships, cruisers and bigger, to attack you and blow you out of space, but they obviously weren't sure that would be enough, so they sent in the Drazis as a backup. Yet somehow, you beat them all, Matt. Somehow you survived that attack, and even their Trojan horse didn't work. You did one hell of job today, Captain, one hell of a job."
Ivanova had lowered her voice gradually as she spoke, watching Gideon's eyes closing and his head falling to his chest. Her ship's doctor had told her that she needed to get him to talk, then to get him to sleep. [Looks like two out of two, but how do I get him into his bunk without waking him?] She walked quietly around the desk and put her hand under Gideon's good arm, whispering, "Come on, Matt. Let's get you to bed. Just stand up. There's a good boy."
His eyes half-opened as she managed to get him to his feet and supported him into the bedroom. When Ivanova lowered him to the bunk, Gideon reached up and caressed her face gently with his left hand, whispering, "Angel? I thought we'd lost you," before his head fell back on the pillow and he slept.
Ivanova straightened, wondering who Angel was, and pulled the blanket over him. She just hoped that his hangover wouldn't be too bad. Then she left to make her report for the Board of Inquiry, stopping only to fulfill her promise and release the ship's logs for Gideon to read when he woke up.
The sound of the door buzzer dragged Gideon out of a sleep so deep it could almost be called unconsciousness. He had no memory of dreaming, [Hell, I don't even remember going to sleep! How did I get in here?] and was grateful for that, at least. He was less grateful for the pounding headache he was now suffering. The door buzzer going off for a second time brought him upright on his bunk, and he swung his feet to the floor, calling, "OK, OK! Give me a minute, will you?"
Staggering upright, Gideon nearly fell as he tried to extend his right arm for balance and found it wouldn't move. Memories of the previous day came flooding back and he groaned, wishing that the headache was his only pain. As he entered the living area, he called, "Open," and looked up to see a tall blonde woman standing in the doorway. Very tall. Very blonde. Her skin was as white as her hair, and her eyes a very pale blue.
"Captain Gideon." She nodded at him as she stepped through the door, and Gideon acknowledged her with a wave of his left hand. He was very much aware of the fact that he was unwashed, unshaven, barefoot, had slept in his clothes, and probably stank. Not exactly how he preferred to make a first impression. Before he could ask who she was, she told him. "I'm Greta Uhrenholt, Chief of Medicine on the John Proctor. Captain Ivanova asked me to check you over."
Gideon stood quietly while she ran a scanner over his arm and shoulder, then released the brace, getting him to move the muscles until she was satisfied. "The area will be sore and stiff for a few days. As well as dislocating your shoulder, you broke your collarbone and cracked your humerus. If it's any consolation, I believe that your command console was even worse off. You almost destroyed it when you went for your little jaunt. Next time you decide to go flying around your bridge, Captain, I suggest that you make sure your command console is retracted back into the ceiling where you can't hit it."
This was delivered in a monotone voice and Gideon could see no sign of a smile on Uhrenholt's face, but he hoped she was joking. He quirked a small smile back at her and said, "Doctor's orders?"
The doctor nodded but her face was expressionless as she ran her scanner over his head, then delved in a pocket and brought out a small vial of pills. "Take two now and keep the rest for the next time Captain Ivanova decides you need a dose of her medicine. In ten minutes, you should stop wanting your head to fall off your shoulders."
Gideon swallowed the pills dry and looked carefully at Uhrenholt. "Am I fit for duty?"
She shook her head. "Not for twenty-four hours, but I'm releasing you from confinement to quarters. Before you ask, I've just done the same for your First Officer. He had a nasty concussion, but he is recovering well. Let Lieutenant Grigoria take care of things for another day, Captain, then you and your XO can take over again." The doctor's eyes looked sympathetic, even if her voice was brusque and her face unemotional.
Gideon nodded and called, "Thanks," to her back as she spun on her heel and left his quarters.
Half an hour later, showered, shaven, in clean clothes and with no headache, Gideon sat at his desk. Getting his boots on had been a struggle, with his right shoulder still stiff and sore, but he'd managed it in the end and felt a lot more in command of himself. He smiled at how vulnerable being barefoot had made him feel. Did he really expect everyone to try to tread on his toes? He shook the thought away as he started to work his way through the damage reports waiting for him.
After an hour's reading, he wished Uhrenholt had left him to sleep. The cost of his mistake, in both lives and damage to the ship, was appalling. His guilt and depression had built as he'd read the engineering and medical reports, which set out in detail just how badly his ship and crew had suffered.
Then he found Ivanova's report to Earthforce, which she had copied to him. She'd exonerated him completely. The report said that he had followed regulations in responding to the distress call, and that he was to be commended for his forethought in sending Sarah Chambers and the medical data off ship before starting the mission. It went on to say that it would have been inappropriate to subject the Drazi to strip searches when they were in need of immediate medical treatment, and no lesser searches would have detected the weapons they carried. It concluded that Gideon was to be congratulated for his quick thinking and actions, which had kept his ship from destruction long enough for the other Earthforce ships to arrive.
Gideon sat back and closed his eyes, feeling guiltier than ever as he fended off the wave of dizziness that swept over him. When he opened his eyes again, he caught sight of the bottle of vodka that Ivanova had left behind, still half full, on the corner of his desk. The temptation to drown himself in it was almost overwhelming, but he knew that he owed it to his crew to pull himself together and get on with his job. He realized that the dizziness probably came from not having eaten for over a day, so he pushed himself to his feet, carefully pulled on his jacket, and left his quarters.
The corridors between his quarters and the mess hall were chaotic, full of people he didn't recognize, apparently pulling his ship to pieces. Gideon knew they were carrying out repairs, but it hurt like hell to see the guts of the Excalibur spread out over the floors by strangers. Gritting his teeth, he made his way to the nearest mess hall as quickly as he could.
The doors opened, and the Captain saw that the room was nearly full. He recognized many of the people there as his own crew, but there were a number of strangers present, sporting a variety of ship's badges on their left arms. It looked as if there were representatives from all six other ships in the room. As he walked to the counter to collect his breakfast, Gideon heard the noise level drop. When he'd entered, there had been a buzz of conversation from the discussions going on at every table. As he walked past each table, every conversation stopped. By the time he filled a plate with food and placed it on a tray, the room was in total silence behind him.
Gideon steeled himself to turn, dreading the looks of condemnation he knew he would see on every face. He was responsible for what had happened; every life that had been lost was because of his mistake. He knew he deserved the contempt that he dreaded seeing in his crew's eyes, but also knew he would just have to live with it and hope that one day he could earn back their respect. Hearing the noise of chairs moving behind him, Gideon braced himself and turned, holding his tray, expecting to see a mass exodus from the mess hall, as people refused to even occupy the same room as him.
The sight that met him nearly brought Gideon to his knees. Every man and woman in the room was on their feet and saluting. In total silence, at rigid attention, his crew told him without words that he was still their Captain.
Gideon managed a painfully weak smile and said, "You had to wait until I had my hands full, didn't you?" He heard muffled laughter in response, then a young ensign with the arm-patch of the Thetis took his tray from his hands.
The Captain straightened, returned the salute painfully, as the muscles in his shoulder and arm were still stiff, and murmured, "At ease." Then the clapping started, accompanied by cheering, whistling and stamping as the young ensign led him across the mess hall. Gideon had never felt so embarrassed in his life as he did while his crew and the strangers amongst them all applauded vigorously. He nodded to everyone as he passed, smiling, while knowing inside that he didn't deserve this. They should all be hating him, not applauding him.
He followed the ensign to a table where she placed his tray, and he thanked her quietly as she left. It was only then that Gideon saw who was standing, waiting for him at the table. He reached out and shook hands with John Matheson who stood smiling quietly, enjoying his Captain's discomfort. They rarely touched like that, but this was a special occasion. Gideon sent a brief thought, telling John how much he appreciated the support, knowing that John would never read him, but half hoping that just this once, his XO would make an exception.
The cheering quieted, and Gideon was at last able to sit. John sat opposite and the Captain looked at his XO carefully. There were no signs of the injuries John had suffered, just a lingering sadness in his dark brown eyes. Gideon knew that Matheson would be feeling the same guilt as he did, feeling that as XO, he should have done something, anything, to prevent what had happened.
The Captain smiled and picked up his fork, saying, "You look good, John. How do you feel?"
Matheson smiled back, "Much better. The doctor says I can go back on duty tomorrow."
At the word 'doctor', Gideon paused, a forkful of reconstituted scrambled egg halfway to his mouth. He carefully placed the fork back on the plate, his appetite suddenly gone. Looking up at John, he asked quietly, so no one else could hear, "How am I going to tell her, John? How can I tell Sarah that I got all her people killed?"
Gideon could see his own pain reflected in the warm, dark eyes opposite, as well as sympathy and concern. Matheson spoke equally softly, "I don't know right now, Captain, but we'll find a way. You don't have to do it all alone, you know. We'll work it out together." The XO smiled gently. "And maybe Alwyn will help us and keep an eye on Sarah for us."
Gideon realized that Matheson was aware of the feelings the Technomage had for their ship's doctor, and smiled back. "I guess he will. Thank you, John." He tried to project all his gratitude for John's support and friendship into those three words. Picking up his fork again, he started to push the food on his plate around, but it held little appeal.
The Captain looked up as his XO spoke again. "You'd better eat that. I had orders from Demon that I was to take good care of you."
Gideon grinned. "She said that?"
Matheson smiled and nodded. "Yes, she was very clear about it. And you know how much she scares me, so you'd better eat up. If you go back to her looking thin and unwell, she's going to take it out on me."
Gideon smiled sadly. "I wish I knew when we'll get back there, John. It could take weeks or months for us to get the Excalibur fit to move, get her back to Earth, get new orders and work out how we're going to find a way to be with our families." The ache inside him that came from missing Deborah and Marcus grew every day they were apart and he wondered how much longer he could stand it.
John returned his smile. "I know. But we're going to find our way home, Matthew." Gideon raised an eyebrow at John's use of the word 'home', but Matheson continued before he could say anything. "Home for you and me is where our families are. The place isn't important; it's the people who matter. Somehow, we're going to find our way home. We may be going a very long way around, but one day we'll get there--home."
Gideon smiled. Somehow, John's words had given him hope. He now had hope that one day he could be with his family, that surviving the last couple of days had been worthwhile, that there was something positive to look forward to and to work toward. He was about to tell John as much when his XO looked severe and pointed at his plate. "Now eat!"
The Captain grinned. "Yes, Mother."
If you enjoyed this story, you can find more at:
http://www.ourdramaqueen.com/sw/index.htm