Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
the world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
- In the End is My Beginning, T.S. Eliot
Babylon 5.
The only station in the Babylon project that had not been sabotaged or had disappeared. Nestled in a small sector of space in neutral territory, it was owned by no one government....it existed at equal distance from the Centauri empire and the Minbari Federation and at the midpoint between the Earth Alliance and Narn Regimes. All governments had contributed moneys; all governments had representation within its spinning bulk. It was an embodiment of hope, a creation of peace, a dream given form: to maintain galactic peace at all costs.
Five miles long, 2.5miltons of spinning metal, it was a self contained world full of commerce, residence and lives. Most importantly, lives. Lives for which he would be responsible, as a military governor, a station commander and as an EA ambassador.
Jeff Sinclair gripped the handle of the directional guide of the shuttle allowing the small vessel to slowly approach the station.
"Sir?"
With a lifted eyebrow, the Commander turned and addressed the Lieutenant sitting in the co-pilot chair. "Yes, Tremble?"
"Sir...we are supposed to dock immediately..."
"I am aware of the orders, Tremble...I just want to do a short fly-by..." Jeff commented as he fired the retrothrusters to slow the shuttle. "We'll dock within a few minutes."
The stuff dreams are made of....
Metal and recirculated air and solar panels and plexiglass.
Sinclair leaned forward to adjust the pitch of the shuttle. There were no doubts about it; Babylon 5 was a sleek, beautiful station. He could see the end of the station...something that was unsettling at best. After days of traveling in space with no frame of reference for distance...where infinity was touched and experienced, to be subjected to defined space was strange. But what was stranger was his place in all of that defined space.
A station Commander? After three years of secondary commands so far removed from regular shipping lines that he almost forgot what it was like to see another ship. After four years as a Lieutenant Commander on Mars, a veteran of the food riots there, in a situation so riddled with corruption that ethics, morals and all the niceties of Jesuit school were forgotten if not decimated...he felt at a loss.
Out of the viewport, he watched the bulk of the station slowly rotate. Gravity was achieved and maintained as the spinning bulk created it. To be in space and yet to be subjected to gravity...was a truly a miracle, he thought. They had chosen blue as the color of the station. It looked calm, the station in the vacuum of space. But that calm did not lull him. No.
He felt at a loss. How had he ended up with this command? He was considered a risky officer at best and a traitor at worst by most of the brass at Earth Central thanks to his 24 hours of missing memory during the war. Most wanted him gone from the service and a strong minority wanted him dead. He knew this with the same surety that he knew his name. So why was he chosen for command of this station...this miracle?
He didn't know. He didn't want to think about it. He just knew that this was his last chance to grasp. The last brass ring that would ever be dangled in front of him. The last chance he had to see respect on the faces of more than just Catherine or Garibaldi...or his brother. He only hoped he had the ability...the drive...
Christ...the balls....to fill this position.
He would do it...somehow. But damned if he had any idea how to now.
"Commander Sinclair?"
Jeff raised his eyebrow and shook his head slightly, clearing his vision. The shuttle had drifted off the end of the station and there was nothing but empty space around them.
"Sir...we should dock..." the Lieutenant stated.
"Agreed, Tremble," Sinclair answered, gruffly, almost forcefully. "Take us in to the dock, Lieutenant."
"Aye, sir."
Jeff Sinclair sat back in the seat as he watched space slide and reorient in the viewport. Babylon 5 became all he saw....the blue and silver reflecting off of the far-off sun. It was beautiful. It was everything. "Take us in."
And may God smile upon me.
the world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
- In the End is My Beginning, T.S. Eliot
Babylon 5.
The only station in the Babylon project that had not been sabotaged or had disappeared. Nestled in a small sector of space in neutral territory, it was owned by no one government....it existed at equal distance from the Centauri empire and the Minbari Federation and at the midpoint between the Earth Alliance and Narn Regimes. All governments had contributed moneys; all governments had representation within its spinning bulk. It was an embodiment of hope, a creation of peace, a dream given form: to maintain galactic peace at all costs.
Five miles long, 2.5miltons of spinning metal, it was a self contained world full of commerce, residence and lives. Most importantly, lives. Lives for which he would be responsible, as a military governor, a station commander and as an EA ambassador.
Jeff Sinclair gripped the handle of the directional guide of the shuttle allowing the small vessel to slowly approach the station.
"Sir?"
With a lifted eyebrow, the Commander turned and addressed the Lieutenant sitting in the co-pilot chair. "Yes, Tremble?"
"Sir...we are supposed to dock immediately..."
"I am aware of the orders, Tremble...I just want to do a short fly-by..." Jeff commented as he fired the retrothrusters to slow the shuttle. "We'll dock within a few minutes."
The stuff dreams are made of....
Metal and recirculated air and solar panels and plexiglass.
Sinclair leaned forward to adjust the pitch of the shuttle. There were no doubts about it; Babylon 5 was a sleek, beautiful station. He could see the end of the station...something that was unsettling at best. After days of traveling in space with no frame of reference for distance...where infinity was touched and experienced, to be subjected to defined space was strange. But what was stranger was his place in all of that defined space.
A station Commander? After three years of secondary commands so far removed from regular shipping lines that he almost forgot what it was like to see another ship. After four years as a Lieutenant Commander on Mars, a veteran of the food riots there, in a situation so riddled with corruption that ethics, morals and all the niceties of Jesuit school were forgotten if not decimated...he felt at a loss.
Out of the viewport, he watched the bulk of the station slowly rotate. Gravity was achieved and maintained as the spinning bulk created it. To be in space and yet to be subjected to gravity...was a truly a miracle, he thought. They had chosen blue as the color of the station. It looked calm, the station in the vacuum of space. But that calm did not lull him. No.
He felt at a loss. How had he ended up with this command? He was considered a risky officer at best and a traitor at worst by most of the brass at Earth Central thanks to his 24 hours of missing memory during the war. Most wanted him gone from the service and a strong minority wanted him dead. He knew this with the same surety that he knew his name. So why was he chosen for command of this station...this miracle?
He didn't know. He didn't want to think about it. He just knew that this was his last chance to grasp. The last brass ring that would ever be dangled in front of him. The last chance he had to see respect on the faces of more than just Catherine or Garibaldi...or his brother. He only hoped he had the ability...the drive...
Christ...the balls....to fill this position.
He would do it...somehow. But damned if he had any idea how to now.
"Commander Sinclair?"
Jeff raised his eyebrow and shook his head slightly, clearing his vision. The shuttle had drifted off the end of the station and there was nothing but empty space around them.
"Sir...we should dock..." the Lieutenant stated.
"Agreed, Tremble," Sinclair answered, gruffly, almost forcefully. "Take us in to the dock, Lieutenant."
"Aye, sir."
Jeff Sinclair sat back in the seat as he watched space slide and reorient in the viewport. Babylon 5 became all he saw....the blue and silver reflecting off of the far-off sun. It was beautiful. It was everything. "Take us in."
And may God smile upon me.