Prologue
"This is you friendly DJ Al Borland," the voice over the ships intercom spoke, "Just lay back, relax and listen to some good old Pre-Fall Music."
"Ensign Borland," Captain Enrique Montoya snorted, looking at the cards in his hand, "That kid needs a life."
"He just needs laid," his first officer, Commander Jonas Erickson replied, "And, I need to fold."
"What?" the weapons officer replied, shaking his head, "You haven't been all the way in tonight, sir."
Erickson rolled his eyes. "You keep yo' mouth quiet, Lt." he retorted, "We've got three weeks left and if I need to you'll be cleaning the latrines for the entire trip."
"What I don't understand," the engineering chief said as he raised the stakes, "Is poker has been around for what? Seven hundred or so years in card form? And it hasn't changed a bit in all that time. Anyone else think that a change needs to be made?"
"Whose going to change it?" Montoya asked, "You? I raise you a hundred."
"I'll see your hundred," the weapons officer said, the hand passing to him with Erickson's folding.
"Sure, why not?" the chief engineer said, "I'll fold. And besides, we missed the Civil War because we got stuck on this recon mission into deep space. And for what?"
"The Maria was sent out here to explore the vastness of space," Montoya replied, "And besides, we aren't exactly a battle-cruiser."
"But we ain't no exploration ship, sir," the weapons officer replied, "We were the last scout ship commissioned before the big war back home. We were supposed to be used to scout enemy locations. Not galevanting into the wild blue. And look, it's your turn Captain."
"He doesn't have it," the chief mocked, "Call him Captain."
Montoya stared very emotionlessly at the weapons officer. Montoya was one of the best gamblers of the Fleet, with one of the most perfect poker faces. His weapons officer though, while a loud mouth and less than the most respectful of soldiers, was a rising star and a formidable poker player. They sat for what felt like a couple minutes, staring at each other.
"I have a Full House," the weapons officer smiled, his big grin covering his infinite baby face.
Montoya sighed and dropped his hand on the table. THe young man stood to grab his winnings until he saw the hand. "A Straight flush!" he snapped, "D-n Captain! I had you."
"Well," Montoya smiled, sweeping the pile of credits towards him, "Apparently you didn't. So, one more round?"
Erickson shrugged, "We're all good for another thirty minutes."
"I'm down," the chief said.
"Fine," the weapons officer shook his head, "But I'll beat you this time."
"I'll beat you this time...sir," Erickson corrected him.
"No need to call me sir," the young man replied, "Unless you are promoting me."
Erickson raised an eyebrow at him. Almost two full years serving with this crew would drive any man insane. But it seems to have infected the Weapons Officer much sooner than the rest. Just then, the ship came to a stop and the ship went into "Grey Mode." This mode was similar to silent running,
"Captain to the bridge," Borland called over intercom, "Captain to the bridge."
Montoya raised up his hand and pushed the call button on his Link. "What is it son?" he asked.
"You better come and take a look sir," he replied.
Montoya raised an eyebrow. "Can you be more specific?" he asked.
A slight paused followed. "You'd better take a look, sir," he replied.
Montoya frowned, and turning to the gathered officers said, "A jittery thang isn't he?"
A couple minutes later he arrived on the bridge, grabbing the hand rails as he walked to keep himself from bouncing too far with each step in the low gravity environment. He walked up to the Ensign who turned from his station to look at the Captain as he arrived. He pointed to his scanners.
"We've got a fleet of unidentified objects nearly a hundred kilometers out," he said.
"Objects?" Montoya asked, walking up to the scanners and taking a look, "Can't you identify what they are?"
"No sir," he shook his head, "But we have gotten an image of what one of them looks like."
"Show me," he ordered and after Borland clicked a few buttons, an image appeared.
In all ways it resembled a star, a crooked one. Six spikes growing out of the side in every direction, and the top looked like a small triangle. Montoya had never seen anything like this before. Not against the Minbari, not Narn, not Centauri. What was this thing?
"What's this light coming out of the bottom?" he asked.
"Not sure sir," he shook his head, "I have-"
What are you doing in our space?
They both turned to see a holographic image on the bridge. It looked like in many ways a bullfrog from Earth, although it was clearly a hooded figure with large curves in the back. Perhaps they were poles or something. Montoya and Borland passed a glance, along with the three other bridge crew.
No need to remain silent. We can see your ship. We detected it a million of your kilometers away. And I can see all of you on the bridge.
"I am Captain Montoya of the-"
HRSS Maria. I don't care who you are. What are you doing in our space?
"We are doing deep space exploration," Montoya replied, "I am sorry if we intruded upon your domain. We can give it a wide berth if you'd like. Just tell us where you want us to go."
You are heavily armed for exploration.
"You never know what you might find," Montoya shrugged.
Return from where you came.
"Can we not-"
Leave. Now.
"Turn us around," he ordered, the ships engines turning to full and Grey Mode ending. The image only disappeared after he could feel the ship turning.
"Communications," he said, stepping over to his chair and strapping in, "Send a message as soon as we are a million kilometers away towards Remnant Command. Tell them we have run into what we believe is a massive fleet."
"Sir," Erickson said, having finally joined them on the bridge, "Do you think they'll let us go?"
"Not in the slightest," he said, "Charge weapons and be ready to..."
"We are being pursued by the objects, which I can safely say are ships," Borland reported.
"How many?" Erickson demanded.
"Ten...no make that twenty...forty...eighty ships are pursuing us at full impulse," came the report, "They are gaining on us."
"Increase speed. Distance to nearest jumpgate?" Montoya asked Helm.
"Be around two hours," the report came.
"We aren't going to make it in time."
"Battle-stations," Montoya ordered, "Deploy mines aft. Be ready to fire from the aft cannons. Communications, send that message now."
"Yes sir," the communications officer reported as she sent the message.
"The ships are within weapons range and twelve ships are firing...sir, impact in twenty seconds."
"Interceptors!" he ordered, "Fire!"
But, ten missiles bypassed the flurry of defensive fire and the ship bucked as the hull was shredded by the impacts. Consoles all over the bridge exploded and the ship lost engines, the entire engineering section having been targeted by most of the shots. The ship now drifted in space by the inertia they had built up. Hit after hit slamed into them, explosions ringing throughout the ship.
"Continue firing!" Erickson shouted, pushing himself from the floor where he'd been thrown.
"Looks like I'll be joining Maria in heaven sooner than I thought," Montoya whispered as the first of thirty hits struck them, destroying the ship.
It was the dawn of the Third Age of Mankind.
One years after the Last Vorlon-Shadow War.
It was a dream given form, an Intergalactic Empire where all were welcome to join in common defense.
A place for warriors, dreamers and wanderers.
Billions of Humans and Aliens working together to prepare for the common defense of their homes.
But it is a dangerous place, but it is the last, best hope, of freedom.
From their new citadel in space, Emperor Sheridan shows the way.
The year is 2262.
The name of the place BABYLON 5.