Prologue

The ship shuddered as another hit rammed into it, causing the whole bridge to shake violently. Screams and shouts filled the whole of the ship, the man running down the corridor to the bridge. His orders had been clear and prompt. Get to the bridge. Tell them what's going on down here.

A Human Remnant officer was being helped off the bridge, her leg obviously broken. He patted her on the shoulder as he moved to the side, the woman looking up with a grimace of pain, her teeth clenched. He moved past her turning to the side to allow someone else through the doorway, walked onto the bridge and put his hand on the rail. Wow, that had been quiet a run!

"Captain!" he called out, and the Captain, who was standing next to a monitor turned to him. "The engines are fragged sir. We got about a dozen injured down below."

"The engins are not fragged, Ensign Gideon," Captain Ross said, moving through the smoke that filled the bridge. "But we do have heavy damage on the exterior of the ship on the engines. Take an EVA team and go outside and fix them. The attackers have fallen back, but I don't want to be here any longer than I have to."

"Right sir," he nodded. He turned and ran from the bridge, heading to where he knew the airlock was.

"Tell me honestly, sir," the crewman said, moving towards one of three major breaches in the engine casing, "You wouldn't know what do do without me, would you?"

Matthew Gideon rolled his eyes. The crewman was a good natured soul. He was recently transferred to the RSS Cerberus, a top secret Remnant vessel assigned to make sneak attacks on Minbari outposts and search out new allies. Unlike it's sister ship the Agamemnon which was famous by Captain Sheridan, the Cerberus was meant to operate in total secrecy, to the point that they never made radio contact and would only take on crew that were assigned to "die" on their various postings, so they could be snuck onboard to serve, it was that classified of an operation.

"Believe me," he replied, "I'd celebrate and dance on your grave."

"Naw," he said, his grey EVA suit slowly moving as he gripped the edge of the breach, "I bet you think of me at night when everyone else is sleeping."

"Keep dreaming crewman," he snorted, floating about a dozen feet from the ships side.

"They're coming back!" the weapons officer reported, the bridge crew turning to him. "Extreme weapons range. Holy crap! ETA one minute!"

Captain Ross growled. Man, these b-ds were fast! They had no time to lose. Obviously whoever they were, they weren't Minbari, nor were they anything else they had ever encountered. And that wasn't a good sign.

"Make the jump to hyperspace now!" he ordered, making determined strides to his captains chair and sitting down, "we don't have time to waste."

"But the repairs crew," his second said, the man looking concerned.

Ross shook his head. There was no way they could pull them into the ship before they left. Ten men lost for a hundred survived? That was a matter of cold hard math. And the math was an unforgiving mistress.

"Acceptable losses," he said, although he didn't like to say the words.

"Wait," the crewman said, "The engines are powering up!"

"What?" Gideon asked. They hadn't hardly started repairs. What was Captain Ross doing? He pressed a button on his helmet to switch the comm system from inter-squad channel to main channel, "CIC, what are you doing?"

"They're coming back, and we got to leave now!"

He looked at the crew man and towards the five other two-men crew that were already working. We're they really going to leave him and his crew out here? No! That was unacceptable.

"We are still..." he began when the ship yanked forward, the crewman attached to the ship being whirled around by the sudden acceleration and smashing into the ship. There was a splatter of blood in the crewman's helmet that had been next to him, and the outer-visor of the helmet broke, the dead crewman's features freezing in the subzero temperatures of space.

The ship surged forward, and a scream filled Gideon's mind. He grabbed both sides of his helmet as if he could stop the screams by this action. But he couldn't. Not could he stop the pattern of purple bolts that slammed into the ship.

The ship began to rupture, the bolts slicing into the ship and inturn blooms of fire which was combustible oxygen lit the darkness. He could hear screams on the channel, until with a burst of static that hurt his ears, it went quiet. Materials of the ship were thrown from it, but the ship was continually hammered by the ship, which swung around. Screaming continually filled his mind. The ship looked like one of those ancient tractor plows, and it seemed to be plowing into the already dying hull of the ship. Then, one last shot, and the ship vanished, flying through the fireball of the Cerberus.

"No!" he shouted, as the fireball dissipated. In it's wake, were dozens of pieces of the ship, and smaller fires of burning cables and weapons that were being exploded by the heat of the still red-hot fragments of the ship.

Hours passed. Each minute dragged out an eternity. He couldn't move, the boosters on his personal rocket-pack broken, an occasional spark flying from it. But even if they had been working; what then? Where was he to go? The closest planet was at sub-light speed a year away.

His suit was fouled with feces and piss which were stored in a small bag which was used to break down the molecules and recycle them as breathable air. Except for a small problem. That was broken as well.

His body hung in a vacuum of space, unable to move anywhere. He waved his arms, almost imagining he was in water, and not in a void of black. Oh, there were stars. Heavens above, he never knew just how many stars there were. Until that was all the company he saw. The only witnesses to his trails.

He looked around, and spotted something moving. There was a fleet of ship, black and triangle in shape. They were flying by, no less than a couple dozen kilometers away. In the empty space between stars and planets, even something a lightyear away could be seen when unhindered. He pushed the comm button to open up a channel.

"This is Ensign Matthew Gideon of Human Remnant Forces calling the passing ships," he called out, his breath coming in small gasps. "My ship was destroyed. I only have half an hour of air left. Please, help me."

The ships kept moving. There was no indication that they had heard him. He frowned. Surely they heard him.

"Is this thing transmitting?" he muttered, glancing at the side of his helmet. A small indicator light showed that indeed, he was transmitting. The transponder was working.

"Please," he said, begging, "I realize I'm out of your way. But I don't want to die out here. I am Ensign Matthew Gideon of Remnant Force. Come save me, I don't have a lot, but I can pay you what I do have!"

The ships continued on their journey, now reaching the maximum range of his small transponder. Panic filled him. The idea of being alone, dying due to asphyxiation, it was far too much to bear.

"No! Don't, don't leave me!" he began to scream into the communicator, "Wait! No, come back!"

"Target is out of range," the computer in the helmet warned him, "Danger, oxygen supply down to twenty minutes."

Hopelessness and despair filled him. He was going to die out here. Alone. This...couldn't be. Where was the compassion in these beings? There had been a dozen ships, surely one of them could have been made to help.

"Don't go," he whispered.

He sensed more than knew that something was behind him. He turned his body slowly, the motion slowly making him spin. There, like a shark was a ship. It was hovering, as if unsure what to make of this small creature. He recognized the configuration. It was the same type of ship that had passed him by.

"Please," he begged, "Help me."

The ship turned slowly in place and he was afraid it was going to take off without him. Soon it was facing away from him, and tears began to fill his eyes. He was going to be...saved? He saw a light appear and he could see a small hatch drop. The ship backed up ever so slowly, and soon, it was within range to grab. He grabbed it, like a man grabbing a life raft and pulled himself. Up, up he pulled.

When he was more or less fully on the ramp, it raised up, and closed. Not even waiting for the computer to say whether it was safe to breath or not, he popped the helmet off and took in deep breaths. It was so good to actually breath in air. He looked around, noting how sparsely decorated the ship was, and a man, balding stood at the front of the ship.

"Tha-thank you," he said, trying to stand, only to learn he was unable to.

"Sleep now," the person said, in a very theatrical voice, "You will be safe here, from all your pains and trials."

"I do not understand your reasons, Galen," Elric said, sitting with legs crossed in a separate compartment of the ship. "It is not our place to get involved with the dealings of those not of the Order."

"It is not good to continually turn our back on everyone that needs help," Galen replied, staring down at his mentor and trainer.

Elric had saved him after his parents had died. A street rat that he turned into a techno-mage. Those who used technology to impersonate magic. He respected the hard faced techno-mage, but he knew this man was a hard-headed and stubborn fool that could and was wrong from time to time.

"There is no reason to show mercy to those who do not appreciate the mercy shown them," the mage replied, his glare making it more poignant how terrible he believed saving the man was.

"But is not the responsibilty of power and wisdom to show mercy to those who could benefit from it?" Galen asked, "This is my ship, and I choose whom we need to save."

Elric closed his eyes. Clearly he did not agree, but there was no point in arguing the facts. He shook his head and Galen left him. He reached up to his forehead and rubbed it, wondering what exactly Galen had gotten them into.