This story and those following it in this fan-fiction are a re-make of the events taking place within the simulation THIRDSPACE: CONVERGENCE, created by Brent Ryan, Jonathan Jarry and Scott Martin. I have done my best not to use any material written by them or any other of the simulation's participants. In case a missed something, please do inform me.
Enjoy,
~ BLADE
In the months prior to the end of the civil war and the founding of the Interstellar Alliance, the rebels lead by John Sheridan has hired numerous mercenary pilot squadrons to aid them in their cause. One of the main sources for such squadrons was the 'Regulator Guild', banding together numerous mercenary squadrons following similar ethical codes and 'style'. One of these Squadrons is Ray's Regulators, lead by Tamar 'Luna' Ray.
In her mind..
a horse, riding through the plains. but it's not the plains of Texas, but of the moon. this young black steed trots foreword, unaware of the future or the past.. crossing craters, white sandy hills, the sea of tranquillity..
tranquillity..
and there, in the middle of tranquillity lies a gray city within a transparent dome. the steed crosses the glass as if it was not there, passing through black walls and dim yellow lights as if it is some sort of a ghost. wall after wall after wall.. until it reaches the very center, the very heart.
a man and a woman standing next to something round, glassy, big. like a.. a big glass of yebuse beer, just like Smithy likes.
the Man is all black. even his heart is black. the steed tries to lick its face.. but a sudden headache causes it to leap on its back legs and neigh as daggers of piercing heat penetrate its long skull. the Woman.. she's all white, and the horse doesn't even try to approach her. she's so cold.. more than the temperature outside. the horse passes between the two, and approaches the glass.
It rubs his nose against the glass - it is the first solid thing which he touches, except for the Moon's sandy surface. his two deep, black eyes gaze deep into the glassy chamber, into the mist.. and in it, there is a distinguished gray thing, floating in liquid.
A figure given form.. a form given figure.
'I don't want her - she's infested.'
'I can't allow myself to keep her.'
'She's alienating us.'
'She's the best god damn subordinate I ever had.. if only I had any way of
knowing she's actually alive in there.'
'She ain't very good at--'
Two hours away from Epsilon Eridani III
The large Apollyan-class heavy fighter was eternally attached to the front of the port side of the 'engine rod', a transport vessel meant for a single purpose - to transfer shuttles and fighters through Hyperspace as quickly as possible. Most Regulator mercenary squadrons would kill to get one (Otherwise they would've been limited to the Sol system and its nearby surrounding systems), but they got this 'hike' for free, thanks to working with the Rangers and the rebels from Babylon 5. In fact, this transport has been more or less their home base in the last several weeks, in which they worked solely for President Sheridan's minions.
The pilot of the large two-man fighter, known to almost everyone in the squadron only as 'Smithy', smiled widely to himself with huge satisfaction. What a successful partnership! Although they weren't completely dependent on the rebels, Sheridan's men were indeed generous in payments and didn't try to double-cross them like some corporates would do. Indeed, the princess made a nice call when she said that they should stick with the rebels even after Commander Sterner died in that.. worthless dogfight. Damn mercenary struggles..
"We should be outta here in one hour.", said his gunner, Dobson, who was sitting behind and above him in the tandem cockpit. Both pilots were wearing 'western'-style attire, in the true tradition of the Regulators. "The rest says that they're dying to get out of the fighters."
Smithy just shook his head along with the rhythm of the soft country music that played through their comm.system during the flight.
"Yo Smithy, ye heard what I was sayin'?"
"Yea, yea, Dobson. Two more hours sitting in them damn seats without doin' nothing. But from the payment we'll get I reckon that we're up for some action once we get to B-5, so no worries."
Dobson suddenly clicked on the comm. switch, shifting it to the 'off' side. The country music died, much to the discontent of Smithy. But he could guess why Dobson did that; It was an unspoken Regulator rule that one won't speak against a Regulator leader or the Regulators' whereabouts in front of everyone. No need to demoralize the rest of the squadron.
"Smithy, they brought your pay level to eleven.. her to FIFTEEN--"
"Boy, they only did that 'cause she's our official leader. Babylon 5 knows we use all da money to fix n' buy new fighters, weapons n' supplies. Damn, the princess barely has enough money left to buy them cloths and dogfood for 'Stealth'. In da end, we all get just 's much as the rest of ya.". It was utterly important that he will teach the newer Regulators the works of the squadron so that no one will be discontent. The Regulators were supposed to trust each other blindly, and so they did; Regulators were like family, and even closer than that. Every single 'Reg' had exactly the amount of freedom that he needed and could posses without hurting the rest. You want to have every pretty girl you see in a port? Feel free, as long as you don't get into trouble. You want to drink yourself 'till you're unconscious? Go ahead, just be sober when it's time to fly. That's how it worked, and some times Smithy thought that it was a thousand times better than the way the people at Earthforce ran their army and navy.
He thought Dobson knew that already. He was one of the relatively new guys - joining after Commander Sterner.. perished - but was around for a time long enough for Smithy to give him some extra liabilities such as gathering news and being the Sojourner's gunner.
Apparently, Dobson WAS aware of the unspoken rules. "That's not what I meant.. I meant that them B-5 folks just didn't tell us anything 'bout the mission, yesee? 'ts not usual. we're always briefed on the way, and I got no transmission from the 'rod."
Smithy nodded, worried as well. "Yer right, sonny.. that's worryin' me too, but I reckon this Ivanova simply has some big job for us. That contractor fella did tell me that it'll be a long one, as I told you all--"
"But that's it.", Dobson snarled.
"That's it.", Smithy repeated his gunner's words absently. "I don't like it, but I trust her instincts.. made us one of the best damn squadrons there are, mind you."
"Ray this, Ray that..", Dobson made sure the comm is still closed. "I don't like being ordered around by this.. strange girl. Here, I've got this news report sayin' that Kamal's Regulators should be working only several light years away. Why won't we just skip this odd job and kick their butts?"
Smithy shook his head. "There's nothin' I'd prefer to do other than killing that bastard who murdered Commander Sterner and don't give a damn about the Reg code.. but I do give a damn about the Regulators' code, and you better get it into yer tiny head that when we accept a job, we're gonna go THROUGH WITH IT!". Angrily, Smithy reached back to his communication controls and re-activated it. The soft country music begun to play again. "Ye can get off the ride if ye want to.. but rest of us Regs are sticking with the princess."
Dobson didn't reply, but Smithy knew that his gunner understood and will reach his decision, which would probably be to stick around. Once a Regulator - always a Regulator. Unless you're one of those bastards who, like Kamal, don't have a single decent cell in their body, and only use the name - 'Regulators' - withoutfollowing the code. He hated them.. but indeed, there was a job to do.
Nevertheless he, also, had his doubts. He looked out of the cockpit's 'windows', to the starboard hull of the 'rod'. There were eight fighters, attached to the rod's outer hull in a row. The leading parked fighter was an A, like his own fighter, piloted by a lone, quiet and enigmatic young woman, who was along with him the CO-Leader of their squadron - Ray's Regulators. He could see her little head from afar, protected by a pilot's helmet, and hoped that she was right in trusting their employees despite the dubious contract.
He then whispered to himself, in a voice low enough not to surpass the country music and be heard by the rest of the squadron: "Damnit, Tamar Ray, I hope you know what yer doin'.",
Station Babylon 5, Guest Quarters, five hours later
A single young woman lied on the rough military bed, above the white geese-feather-filled blanket which she carried along with her ever since her days on the girls' boarding school in Oxford. That, and the book she was currently reading, were among the few mementos she kept from that era in her life. She always traveled light, not carrying the weight of the past on her fragile shoulders - but inside her mind.
She rolled, taking a brief rest from reading the novel. She was the only Regulator given a room alone within the Regulators' residence complex, since she was one of the only three women within the squadron which included twenty pilots and technicians. And the other two were sharing their room and a little more than that, so she and Smithy decided that she might as well get a room to herself. It wasn't a very big room, but then again she wasn't very big herself - very slender, and not as tall as she could be if she was fed properly throughout her childhood on Mars. Not much of a childhood, it was.. but she never complained about it. At least, not out loud.
On the other hand, she didn't speak much at all, so ranting wasn't expected from her in any case.
Someone knocked on the door. She hurried to shove the novel under her white pillow, and sat on the bed. "Come in...", she said quietly.
The door sled open, and in it stood Smithy and one of the other Regulators. They were holding a couple of glasses full of Yebuse beer , and smiling. "This station's a damn nice place, Tammy!", Smithy spoke up, his loud and raspy voice contrasted to her soft and quite voice. "They got this place called Da Zocalo just a couple of decks away where we got da drinks, and they say that other sections got some decent hangouts 's well!"
Tamar eyed her fellow leader, then the other man standing next to him, and didn't say a word. The other Regulator, getting a little embarrassed, spoke up. "Ye wanna join us?"
"... No thank you.. I am tired."
"She got somethin' a point there, Billy - tomorrow we're gonna be sufferin' a hangover of a lifetime while she's gonna be refreshed n' ready after a good night's sleep. See ya tomorrow, Tammy!", Smithy responded, but his eyes told a different story. He was getting even more worried about her than usual lately, and knew that most of his fellow Regulators were also quite concerned with their beloved 'princess'. He hoped that this mission will be just the thing to get her a little out of her shell.
As the door closed behind them, Billy turned to his Commander. "She.. she ain't very good at living, is she?"
Smithy just shook his head.
On the other side of the now closed door, Tamar picked up the novel from beneath the pillow, and picked up another thing - a flat mini-personal computer. Clicking on it several times, she entered the BabCom system's mainframe after entering her password and codename, and searched around. The first thing that caught her eye was the station's specifications. She pressed on it, and began to read.
Type: Deep Space Station
Length: 8592 meters
Diameter: 840 meters
Mass: 9.1 Billion MTs
She scrolled on, ignoring all the technical parts which didn't interest her, until finally she found what she was looking for.
Shuttlecraft manifest:
24 Starfury Class fighters
24 Thunderbolt Class fighters
2 Apollyan class heavy fighters * temp. Regulator add-on
14 Raven Class light fighters * temp. Regulator add-on
A little more scrolling, and she reached another interesting point.
Standard Crew: 2500 (Manifest)
She touched 'manifest' with her delicate finger, and the view changed to the station's crew manifest. Her eyes stopped on the first name in the list of 2500, and she passed her fingers over it, bending foreword until her nose nearly touched the screen..
"Captain Sheridan..."