A Place to Call Home
By Terri Osborne
terri@terriosborne.com
Part 16
All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)
Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.
Content Warning: [AC] [AL]
Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.
Spoilers through Season 5 and the Psi Corps novels.
And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!
----------
April 5, 2264 - 3:30 a.m.
Susan Ivanova paced the
corridors of the underground base camp. Save for a few telepaths selected to stand watch,
everyone else was comfortably asleep.
Everyone except me, she
thought. God, Lyta was right about those dreams. What I wouldn't give for a decent
night's sleep right now. Why didn't you take that sedative when Carpenter
offered it, Ivanova?
Of course, the lack of sleep
offered her more than enough time to consider this scheme of theirs. Infiltrating a Psi
Corps base was hardly high on her things to do before I die' list. The
pessimist in her insisted that someone would scan her on sight. Who knew how many people
in that base were like Bester? She could hardly fight off one Psi Cop, let alone a group.
But there were always
Alina's blocks.
If they work.
The idea of someone creeping
around in her mind was difficult enough, let alone what Alina had planned. Neural blocks
were nothing to trifle with, even if the training had come down from the Vorlons. Far too
much was at risk to let someone just wander around her every thought. She hadn't felt
anyone attempt to scan her yet, but that was little consolation. The idea of Lyta finding
out about Marcus just didn't bode well at all, let alone her contact with Major Ryan.
Hell, if I were in
Lyta's place, I'd kill me just for that.
There had to be a way to keep
Alina from finding out about everything.
Or, if she did find out, to
make certain she kept it from Lyta.
A part of her wanted to trust
the little brunette, however. If she was an old friend of Marcus, then odds were that she
could be trusted.
Above that, she claimed to
have been trained by the Vorlons. If the Vorlons really had created telepaths on so many
worlds, they had to have some knowledge of the brain and its structure. If they really had
taught her about the human brain . . . .
It just might work.
But there was still something
about the woman that bothered Susan to the core. The diminutive former Ranger was a little
too sure of herself for Susan's liking. Was there any way to tell if what Minette was
saying was the truth?
Yes. I could always get in
touch with Delenn. Or maybe John. One of them is bound to have the enlistment roster. I
wonder if I could even get them to send me her file. Why didn't I think of this
before?
She was buried so deeply in
her thoughts that she barely noticed the splash of light at the end of the hallway.
"Next record, text dated . . . Earth year 1379."
Alina's voice stopped
Susan cold in her tracks. She had stepped too close to the light. The woman was simply too
strong to not know she was there.
"Text appears to be
dealing with, yes, it would appear that this work is centered around the joining of the
soul to the body."
A soul? What the-?
Susan ducked against the wall, willing herself to be invisible. If Minette hadn't
picked her up yet, there was still hope.
"Yes," Alina
continued. "This will be of great assistance. It's all theoretical, of course,
but . . . ."
Who is she talking to?
"Computer, mark this file
for further reference. Index it by the defined keywords and give me a relevance
count."
Susan inched closer to the
light, curious about what Alina was researching, yet desperate to remain concealed.
"Indexing complete,"
a mechanical voice replied. "A total of four hundred fifty-three occurrences of
defined keywords. Relevance ninety-five point three two percent using current search
parameters."
"Most interesting,"
Alina mused. "I'll definitely have to come back to this. Let's go on to the
next record."
The faint sound of liquid
pouring into some sort of container reached Susan's ears. Within seconds, the smell
of caff filled the halls. Instant, that smell gives it away. Shame. I could use a cup
of real coffee right now.
"What are you doing up so
late, Susan?"
Cursing herself for allowing
her guard to drop, Susan stepped toward the doorway. "Just doing some thinking,
Alina. You?"
The slender brunette turned a
weary smile toward her as she walked into the room. "Working, myself. It's
amazing how much I can get done at this time of night. Is there anything I can do to quiet
your concerns?"
More than you could
imagine. Susan quickly tried to shield her surface thoughts as she stepped toward the
table. A small portable computer sat open, data crystals and flimsies littering the
workspace. The instant she got within a visual range of Alina's work, however, the
screen went black and the smaller woman began to gather the paperwork.
Susan valiantly attempted to
cover her curiosity. "Maybe there is. Do you still want me involved in putting
together this plan of yours?"
"Of course," she
replied. "The larger our vested interest in this assault is, the stronger its chances
of success."
Placing her palms on the
tabletop, Susan leaned forward. "Show me what you've got."
"Well," Alina began,
"the first thing we need to do is get you in there. I think you'll appreciate
the certain, well, sadistic charm of Lyta's contribution on this point."
"Sadistic charm?
Lyta?" Susan raised one dark eyebrow. "This I've got to hear."
"It all goes back to when
Mister Garibaldi took over the company. He discovered that William Edgars had a few darker
projects, blacker than black' as he likes to refer to them, that involved
telepaths. One in particular was a rather nasty virus. It was designed to operate on the
gene that controls telepathy, and from what I've seen in the files it was very good
at its job. Telepaths died within days, sometimes hours. Mundanes were immune."
Susan slowly lowered herself
into the chair beside Alina. "Damn. Do they still have control of it?"
"Doubtful, but no one
knows for certain."
"What?"
Alina pressed a button on the
small computer, bringing up a Universe Today article on the death of William Edgars.
"According to Mister Garibaldi, there was only one vial of the virus on record. He
suspects that the vial fell into the Corps' hands after Edgars' murder. He has
no proof, however."
"Which makes this our
cover plan, right?"
"A cover, but no less
valid. We still need to find it. It's a danger to human telepaths everywhere. If the
Corps has the vial, it is considered stolen property. There is a bill on the table in the
new Mars government to allow corporations to have their own investigators work directly
with the Mars authorities in matters of stolen corporate property."
A slow, sinister smile spread
across Susan's features. "And this means that anyone investigating this theft
has authority over the Psi Cops?"
Alina nodded. "It's
an interesting new idea, but in this case that's precisely what it means. With Mars
being independent of Earth, the Corps is here at the sufferance of the Mars government.
They haven't signed a treaty yet allowing them a diplomatic presence, so-"
"If they screw up, the
government can kick them out. I love this. And what does this have to do with me?"
"This is the best part.
Mister Garibaldi has agreed to hire you as the lead investigator."
Susan fought the urge to
laugh. This scenario was simply too good. "We're sure the bill will pass?"
"The vote is in five
days. According to our sources, it will pass without incident. Once it is passed, it is
law. Our little endeavor will be the first test of its power."
"I never thought I'd
be thankful Mars hasn't elected a president yet."
"Yes, the lack of veto
power is working in our favor." The display changed to a picture of a sculpted, yet
still bland and lifeless, mask as Alina continued. "So, cover story or no, Mister
Garibaldi needs this virus located. He places a great deal of faith in your abilities.
While you are there, however, we'll need you to smuggle out four of these Grin
masks."
"Grin masks?"
"I understand that
they're worn in the Corps training centers. Andrew is convinced that just the sight
of one will scare the wits out of any person we encounter on the way."
Susan leaned forward.
"And how will I keep them from finding out I'm doing this?"
"The blocks I told you
about. I'll teach you how to tuck information behind them. Think of it as similar to
moving a file into a protected directory on a computer. You'll be the only one with access
until the blocks come down."
"What kind of backup will
I have in there?"
"Whoever you choose from
Mister Garibaldi's staff," Alina replied. "He has compiled a list of
personnel who might be qualified to assist you with the investigation, as well as eleven
people from our camp."
Potential, Susan
thought. This plan has potential.
"Okay, what's your plan
to get me out of there when the job's done?"
Alina triggered another change
in the display, this time to a large surface map. "The facility is here," she
began, pointing at the screen with one finger. "On the grounds is a Black Omega base.
Andrew says that while he was working there it never housed more than six starfuries.
Being starfury pilots yourselves, it will be your and Mister Garibaldi's task to
disable, preferably permanently, as many of the starfuries as you can before making your
escape."
One dark eyebrow raised in
surprise. "Garibaldi's in on the raid?"
"Yes, and he will be the
one to inform you when it will take place. Being the recognized chief executive of
Edgars-Garibaldi Industries, he has every right to make an inspection of your
investigation at any point he wishes." Yawning fiercely, Alina pulled herself out of
the chair. She grabbed the flimsies and data crystals as she turned toward the door.
"Here, feel free to look over the particulars. I simply cannot hold my eyes open any
longer."
Fighting to control her
surface thoughts, Susan managed to keep her cheering silent. "Gladly. I'll let
you know if I find anything."
When she felt the coast was
clear, Susan leaned over the computer and allowed her instincts to lead her into the more
secure files. Hacking into computer systems had always been an interesting challenge, and
this was no exception. She bypassed the attack plan in favor of the files that Alina had
been hiding, cursing the fact that she was without her usual tools.
The Syria Planum plan has
almost no security on it, but she's got more locks on these files than we ever used
on Babylon Five. What's so important about these particular files?
Without her password
generator, Susan opted instead for the system's back route. The operating systems on
the smaller computers were difficult to crack into, but hardly impossible to an
experienced hand. This system held a few minor modifications, one of which seemed to be a
disconcerting ability to display text using a Minbari character set. Within minutes, she
was at what she surmised was the prompt that she needed. A dark smile slowly spread across
her lips.
Now, it's just a
simple case of translation.
The first file she could
locate held the rather enigmatic name of Galahad'. The reference alone was
intriguing. It hardly surprised her that Alina would use names from the legends of King
Arthur. After all, Marcus had said that her ancestry fascinated her.
Galahad. Wasn't he
supposed to be the pure and chaste one? Wait a minute.
The words pure and
chaste' brought only one thing to Susan's mind.
One person.
Marcus.
Alina and Marcus had been old
friends.
Galahad' rapidly
became a file that Susan wanted to crack.
After so many years of
bypassing computer security, Susan was accustomed to reading the tangled mess of text and
symbols to extract the information. What appeared on the small screen, however, threw her
a curve.
The sloping curves and gentle
angles of the characters had led her to believe it was Minbari script, but a few of the
symbols were unlike any Minbari text that she had ever seen. An interest in the culture
was growing on Earth, but it was hardly prevalent to this level. To her knowledge, Minbari
and human computers simply were not technologically compatible to such an extent.
I wonder. Alina dated one
of those files she was reading as Earth year 1379. That must have been where the files
came from. This computer must have been modified on Minbar.
After concluding that she
seriously needed to brush up on her ancient Minbari dialects, Susan stared at the
characters on the display, searching for anything that looked even vaguely familiar.
There. I think that one is
soul'. That one looks like death'. What about that one? Is that
connection'? What does this have to do with Marcus? What is she doing?
When she was unable to
recognize any more of the characters, Susan closed the file. She accessed two more files,
with the same results. It all appeared in the same variation of Minbari text, the same one
she was hardly capable of translating.
Susan attempted to adjust the
system log and reboot the computer, bringing it back to the Syria Planum attack plan.
While the back of her mind worked on translating the odd Minbari dialect, she stared at
the assault pattern that Alina had planned. It was getting late. If she didn't at
least look over the plan once before going to bed, suspicion would be raised. Alina might
discover that the system log had been tampered with, and realize that she had accessed the
files.
For all of the good accessing
that data had done.
Damn, what I wouldn't
give for my old translation programs right now. Oh, well, might as well get this over
with.
Pouring herself a mug of
instant caff, Susan leaned closer to the display and commenced her study of the Syria
Planum facility.
----------
April 7, 2264
Lyta stared at the display,
a broad smile on her fair features. "This looks very good. I think it has a good
chance of working."
She raised her eyes to find
Michael Garibaldi staring at her with his usual skeptical look. She hardly had to look at
his surface thoughts to know he'd found a problem in the attack plan. "What is
it, Michael? What are you seeing?"
"I don't know,
Lyta," he said, running a hand over hair that hadn't been present for three
years. "Something about this whole thing just bothers me."
"Usually for good reason,
Michael. What do you think they missed?"
He shook his head. "If it
were just Minette working on this, I could give you a list, but Ivanova looked at it, too.
She's just too damned thorough."
Unable to argue with that,
Lyta nodded. "And the problem you found is?"
He gestured toward the
display, pointing directly at the schematic of the starfury hangar. "Two people to
take out six starfuries? Permanently? Ivanova knows damned good and well that we'd
have to blow the hangar to do that. There's no way to do that without killing
people."
"Then we blow it,"
she coldly replied. "Whatever it takes. I want those starfuries out of commission.
Maybe Susan can find a way to get the innocents out of the way before you go in."
"Lyta," Andrew
interjected, "those walls are heavily fortified. They're designed to withstand a
starfury crash-landing. A small fusion reactor could detonate in there and they would just
shrug it off. There's no way to blow that hangar short of using military nukes, and
where are we supposed to get those?"
A satanic smile spread across
Garibaldi's lips. "If it takes out Bester, I'll be more than willing to
bring the nukes up to his front door. But my ass is not going to be there when they go
off. I fully intend to outlive that little monster."
Lyta stared long at Garibaldi,
one red eyebrow raised. "Where did you get nukes?"
"Trade secret."
Why am I not surprised?
she thought. He could tell me an entire squadron was at his disposal, and it just
wouldn't surprise me.
"Are they portable nukes,
or are we talking military-issue?" Andrew asked.
Garibaldi's smile spread
even further. "Which would you prefer?"
Andrew's eyes widened.
"Interesting. That might come in handy when we get closer to the final push."
Lyta turned a harsh glare on
the blond. "Syria Planum is too close to the Main Dome, Andrew. I don't care how
much they've reinforced the hangar, they can't block out the radiation. I
can't condone using the nukes, it would kill too many innocents. That is not the way
we operate."
"It may have to be,
Lyta," he replied. "You know they're not going to pull any punches."
"And neither will we,"
she curtly replied. "We just make sure that our punches are a little more subtle than
a nuclear explosion."
"Which leaves our options
wide open," Garibaldi stated. "The nukes will be there if and when we need them.
Don't worry about that."
Returning her eyes to the
display, Lyta stared intently at the schematic of the hangar. "We need another
option, Michael. No nukes. Something confined. Can I trust you to figure that part
out?"
Garibaldi's urge to
destroy the facility hit her like a wave.
Damn it, Michael.
"Michael?" she
prompted.
"I'll think of
something."
[End Part 16]