EarthDome:
President Morgan William Clark's mind sat on the edge of a void. The Presidential office was dark, the curtains closed, allowing no sunlight to enter the room. Within the room sat one man, the would-be ruler of the world. Several white noise generators were strategically placed within the office to prevent one of his enemies from successfully bugging the office. On the planet he ruled, the most powerful man on Earth could trust no one. Everything that he had worked for these last few years threatened to slip through his fingers.
Psi-Corps' betrayal had been a wake up call. He was too complacent with them. It was understood that they couldn't be trusted, but he'd forgotten whom he was dealing with and now, his ex-allies were gone, escaped to Babylon Five with the aid of members of his own military. The Ministry of Peace, the Ministry of Justice, Nightwatch, Morden, his own personal guards, none were to be trusted. Even with the extraordinary precautions he had arranged to ensure his survival, he rarely slept at night without medication these days for fear that someone would come to assassinate him.
For a man like Morgan Clark, the Vice-presidency had never been enough. A truth that he always understood was that for him, power was an intoxicant. Being relegated to number two under a man he despised and knew to be weak was something that he could have never endured for long. Despite everything he had done to influence the election, Santiago had still won the Presidency. The Vice-presidency was like being a ghost; lots of prestige but very little power, unless one could manipulate things behind the scenes. That was where true power lay. But Santiago was too smart, even too dangerous a man to game-play with. Morgan's desires for power gradually slipped away. That's when the fulfillment of all of his dreams stepped into his life. Mr. Morden offered him a way to possess more power than he'd dream possible and now he had it. The price though, was high.
He couldn't sleep at night anymore.
To be so close to being the first real world ruler, yet have it wrenched away by the Sheridan rebellion festered within his mind like an open sore. That it wasn't truly the Sheridan rebellion, but a coalition of military and political enemies united against him didn't matter. The Babylon station now represented everything that was trying to take his possessions away. As long as it existed outside his control, it remained a symbol of his failure to control humanity and therefore his destiny. He should have destroyed it when he had had the chance. Months ago, it was an inconvenience at best; now it was a real power to be reckoned with. The resources needed to re-acquire the station in its present state would prove to be politically and militarily cost ineffective.
Restless, he began to bite his nails, already at their nubs, once more. The station simply underscored the multitude of problems he now faced. His political enemies had retreated into the base population and the others escaped off world. Whether friend or enemy, they all headed towards the same place, Babylon Five. They weren't gone, just relocated to the one place where he dare not attack directly, not yet. The whole universe seemed to revolve around the station. How he had come to hate that place!
The war grated at him as well. The Centauri almost destroyed the entire fleet at Proxima III. Even with the Shatterfist array and his newly built Omega X's as support, EarthForce had nearly lost the battle. Every single ship suffered significant damage in one way or another and only with the help of the resistance and those hated Federation ships had his fleet survived. The conclusions were obvious-Morden's associate's lied to him. They said that he would have help against the enemies of Earth. They had also said that Babylon Five would be given to him. The bugs lied to him and he was no longer the master of his destiny. He trusted in outside forces to give him his dreams and they deserted him. Sheridan and the others had stolen his moment of glory. Things were spiraling out of control. He was no longer the master.
Sheridan had requested that General Brindley come to the station and the only thing the President of Earth could say was yes. If the reasons were true and the Shadow homeworld was indeed under attack, then he would have to ally himself with his Earth enemies and the Minbari also. But EarthForce had no knowledge of events happening in the sector of the Shadow homeworld and as much as he wanted to ignore the rumors, he had to find out as quickly as possible, or his so-called military would find a way to have their President eliminated.
He'd kill everybody before he would let that happen.
He would send Brindley, but because Sheridan asked for him personally, the General could no longer be trusted. Loyal or not, that request alone assured his purging. He moved around his desk, thinking hard. A plan half formed and he relaxed. "Get me Captain Clark," he ordered.
A half hour later, there was a knock and a lone figure was allowed entry. The woman who entered was tall, dark-haired and had piercing blue eyes. The woman was gorgeous. Clark almost trusted her. Relatives always came through for him.
"You need a tan, Mr. President," she said to him. Her eyes sparkled in the pale light of the room. "You have to get out more. Let the people see you instead of hiding in here in the dark like some kind of vampire. This is your opportunity to gather the support of the people, cousin, and your missing out on it."
Her words had a grain-actually more than that-of truth. But he wouldn't dare. He didn't want to be shot like Presidents Kennedy, Reagan and Kinsey (they actually fired a missile at him to make sure they didn't miss). "I didn't call you here for a consultation, Charlotte."
"You never listen anyway. You're trying too hard. The people will flock towards you if you simply look like the leader you pretend to be."
"It's my decision, my power," the man hissed. "I am in control."
"If you say so, Morgan," she whispered softly. "Is that why you want me to get rid of another obstacle for you?"
"Mr. Morden and his associates promised and failed to deliver."
"He's always kept his promises to us," she agreed. She shivered as she said that mans' name. How she hated him-and her cousin, too. "And I will honor my promise to them and to you."
Morgan nodded enthusiastically. "You and your ship will accompany General Brindley and the EAS Charon to Babylon Five. There, I want you to kill Brindley and destroy the Federation ship anchored there. They won't be expecting an attack and my sources tell me that their main weaponry can't be used at ranges closer than five hundred meters. What they do have will not be able to penetrate your ship's armor in time to save them."
"You're crazier than I thought," she yelled at him. " Did you see the recordings of the Proxima III battle? Ineffective at five hundred meters distance?" She started laughing. "My ship will have to get first strike at point blank range. We'll lose everything and most likely I won't get out alive. And even if by some miracle, we manage to get away, B5 and the Federation will hunt my ship down and then come after you. It'll crack the alliance we have with them wide open.
I hope so he thought. If they do then the military will fight hard to protect their President. No foreign force will be allowed to attack this legitimate government. They, all of them will be discredited and it will give me time.
"You'll survive because the Shadows will secure your ship's escape," he laughed. I'm making arrangements with Morden now," he lied. "Together we will broker a peace between Earth and Centauri Prime. The war will end and you will be safe and by my side."
"This is not a wise move, Mr. President."
"It's an order, Captain Clark. Or should I request someone else to do it?"
Despite her look of defiance, she blanched at the threat. "What about the Charon?"
"Expendable," answered the President. "The Captain's transmission to the small ship, the Yeager several months ago has been analyzed and we believe it was a staged event. The opinion is that he is a turncoat and that his crew is in league with Brindley. This request to find out what's happening on Z'Ha'dum is a ruse to get together with the others and plan against me." He began to pace the length of the huge office as he continued. "The Shadows are too powerful for anyone to defeat them. The Vorlons are all dead or running, taken out by the Shadows. This whole reconnaissance is a charade. I want Brindley dead and a Fed ship destroyed. The people must know that Babylon Five is not invincible."
"And that your reach is long when it comes to your enemies," she added quietly.
"Yes. Now go do your job."
"You are so melodramatic," his cousin told him. "I respectfully request that you reconsider this order, Morgan."
"I am a survivor charlotte, and your 'respectful' request is denied," answered. "Leave and do your job."
He watched her leave and he whispered goodbye. He expected her to die fulfilling her mission. If all went according to plan, Charlotte would be killed, Brindley, who was increasingly against the planned Federation assault, would die and one of the hated Federation ships would be damaged at the least. Babylon Five would be humiliated and crippled as one of its capital ships would be rendered useless and most of all, the people would once again fear his reach. Now he would wait for Mr. Morden to contact him.
Previous calls hadn't been returned, but they would be soon. They always were. However deep down, there was a little voice which doubted.
***
Not surprisingly, General Brindley was relieved to be leaving EarthDome. His credibility had waned significantly when he first suggested that Earth Force might want to take a less proactive stance against Babylon Five and the Federation crew. Almost overnight, his influence wavered, his calls began to go unanswered and his command of the Proxima III fleet was taken away from him. Various members of Nightwatch had shadowed him more than once. The Ministry of Justice watched him and his closest friends, some of whom quietly suggested that he watch his back, began to avoid him. Now, onboard the Charon, looking at his beloved Earth receding in the distance, he suspected that that may be the last time he ever saw it. He was a marked man and he knew it. Dissent was not tolerated in the Clark regime. The President and his cronies had it in for him.
"Three days," Captain Anderson whispered to him.
The tall dark African American male stood by his side for perhaps fifteen minutes, saying nothing. The General didn't know the Captain as well as he would have liked. But both of them were on the same boat, so to speak. The mere fact that he had spoken to Captain Sisko in a half civilized manner months ago had condemned him in the eyes of Clark, who demanded a scapegoat after the Brakiri incident. Anderson, after his last mission was reduced to guarding the local jumpgate. This was his first out-mission since then.
"Three days," the General repeated. Next to them was an Omega variant, dark,and menacing against the swirling eddies of jumpspace. "I see we're being escorted."
"Yes, sir."
The modified Omega-X followed them into the swirling maelstrom of hyperspace on a heading that would take them to the Babylon station.
"I have no idea, Captain."
"What, Sir?"
"This mission to B5," the General answered. "Sheridan requested me specifically, the higher ups agreed and I don't know why."
"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" the Captain whispered.
"Yes."
"I don't understand why I was picked, either. That incident with the Yeager effectively ruined my career. It if hadn't been for the war, I wouldn't be here right now. And there have been rumors about you-"
"Clark is scared and any dissent has met with instant retaliation, except in my case. The Psi-Corps aren't there to help him and he's paranoid." Thoughtfully, he stroked his chin. "I don't trust Sheridan and he doesn't trust me, but for some reason he wants me there. The disappearance of the Drakh all along the front lines has bothered and surprised everybody and that may be why Sheridan wants to see me. The Centauri are still a handful but they've developed a more defensive posture as of late. And there's no way that they can fight both the Minbari and us at the same time. On the other hand, it could be some sort of trap."
Silently, both men considered the implications. Standing ramrod straight, Anderson whispered once more. "A lot to think about. I suggest we watch each other's back, Sir."
"Yes, Captain. We'll have to."
***
Centauri Prime:
"You hate me," Emperor Cartagia announced majestically to his once advisors and critics. They were all dead now, their heads, slightly bloated now, floating serenely in thick liquid, inside transparent jars. Their eyes were swollen in purification, staring accusingly at their murderer. "It wasn't my fault that you died. You should have known better." He began to laugh hysterically. "If you had only advised me better, I wouldn't be in this situation and you wouldn't be dead. But no," he continued. "You plotted against me and the people have suffered. The Drakh have abandoned us. The Shadows are gone and there are no answers."
He stared at the heads floating serenely in their individual jars. "Why have they abandoned Us?" He cocked his head as though expecting an answer. To his horror and growing madness, one of them did.
" We didn't abandon you," the voice said. "You killed us as you had your Uncle killed."
The madman laughed long and hard. "I didn't kill him. He died of natural causes!"
"He died from his broken hearts. Apparently he didn't like the direction his people were going," the disembodied head whispered. " He hated the war with the Narn and everything it represented. He went to offer peace to the Narns, to open up a dialogue and to say on the behalf of the Centauri people, he was sorry."
"No," Cartagia answered. He had to control himself to keep from hyperventilating. "My Uncle, the Emperor of the Centauri republic, would have never said that. Peace with the Narns? Ridiculous! He was never that weak."
"He was tired of the war and what it had done to both of our people and because you were his son, he told you everything. He knew he was going to die. He wanted to make a difference and you hated him for it."
"My Uncle was the Emperor. There was nothing I could do to change his mind," he explained to himself. "I labored for days trying to convince him of this folly, but he only smiled at me."
"Yes and when he died, you knew that he not chosen you as his successor, so you manipulated, bribed, or murdered your way to power, killing anyone who stood in your way, including your younger brother. We, your trophies are testament to that. So, now you have achieved everything you wanted. How does it feel to be a living god?
"I am ascending," he answered. "I see so many things that I could never have conceived before. Soon the universe will see my glory. Can't you see it?"
"We see nothing," several voices responded, adding theirs to the first one. "We are dead."
"Even the dead shall soon see my radiance. That's why you speak to me now." Cartagia began to relax in the darkened room, his thoughts clearer now. "Now, tell me why have the Drakh left?"
"You're a god. Tell us."
The Centauri leader rose to the challenge. "I believe that the Shadows may have required them for some special mission. Perhaps they were needed to root out isolated pockets of the Vorlons that may still remain in our sector of space. But the war with Earth remains a problem. By themselves, they are nothing. We can defeat them as we have the pitiful Narn."
"Are you so sure?"
"I will admit they do have resources, but they will submit to Our will soon enough. But the Minbari federation is another problem. I did not anticipate that the Shadows would draw us into direct conflict with them. The Drakh are powerful and have kept the Minbari at bay but with them gone-"
"Then our military will suffer defeat and our worlds will quickly join them. The Minbari will not take these actions lightly. In their vengeance, they may well destroy the Empire and you will be punished."
"But we didn't attack them," the Emperor of Centauri protested.
"No, our allies did. They and you have brought this on us. Therefore, what are you going to do, god Emperor?"
If he were a god he reasoned, then why did he feel afraid?
"I will attack and destroy the Terran homeworld as we did Narn. It will be a lightning strike; something unexpected and the humans will kneel before me. I will have the grand fleet prepared and we will end this conflict. Then we will concentrate and consolidate our forces to deal with the Minbari, alone, if necessary."
"A bold plan," the voice said as if agreeing with Cartagia's logic. "But what about the Federation ships, two of which are powerful enough to butcher heavy battleships as though they were small frigates? And what about the Klingon ship, which destroyed and eluded the Drakh you sent to destroy it?"
"There is no Federation," he spat. "That is a lie. However, I will admit the ships are a nuisance, but Clark's secret weapons have been exposed to the galaxy." The balance of power had shifted to the humans and unless something was done quickly, many of the races including the Centauri would be left behind. Babylon Five's arsenal was case in point of the growing Terran threat.
"And what happens if the humans find out your grand plan and come here to destroy us even as your plan takes effect? Will the Shadows protect our home? They've all left. What of Londo? He has not contacted you and no one has heard from any of those on Z'ha'dum? What if there is a Federation of human and alien colonies somewhere in the depths just waiting for the opportunity to come and dominate this part of space?"
"If, if there is a Federation, I will find them and punish them severely. Londo is a fool, but he is loyal," he replied uneasily. In his position, no one could be truly trusted, not even the dead, obviously. "Nevertheless, I will admit that your questions do have merit. Perhaps we should maintain our defensive posture a while longer. I may even send envoys to the Minbari. After all, we have not attacked them in any way. It may be possible to prevent full blown war with them, if I act now."
Of course, you can the first voice that counseled him said. "The Minbari are a wise and intelligent race. I am sure that once you explain it to them, they'll accept your heartfelt apology so that you can move on to grander things."
Cartagia didn't believe it for a moment.
***
Babylon Five:
Three White Stars, several resistance cruisers and the Enterprise, exited the Epsilon jumpgate and took up respective positions around the five-mile long space station that had become their home. The area was packed with ships of all descriptions, far more than usual. Many were refugees.
"Babylon Five control to Bab-Fleet One. Welcome home."
"This is White Star Two," Commander Ivanova said. "Captain, it's good to be home. Have we missed anything?"
"Do you even need to ask?"
"You mean, why do I even bother to ask?" she corrected. "I don't know, I guess I'm a masochist. I like pain and suffering."
"Then you're going to love this," he answered. "I want to talk to all of the Captains in two hours, be there, Sheridan out."
"I'll be there." She eased herself off of the Captain's chair and stretched. She was feeling wonderful. She wanted to come to her room, grab something to eat, change clothing, then listen to the bad news. But first, Picard had wanted to see her.
The White Star transporter beamed her over to the Enterprise where she swiftly found herself in the Ready-room where Picard was waiting.
Facing him, she smiled. "I love that thing."
"I'm glad you like it," he said. "It does have its uses."
"Yes, Sir," she answered. "You wished to talk to me?"
"I have a problem, Commander. It concerns the battle at Proxima." Susan tensed as she realized that he was groping for the correct words.
"Did something go wrong, Sir?" By the way he looked at her, something was wrong. "Captain, what's going on?"
"This is off the record, unless you choose for it to be otherwise," he started.
Susan felt a chill in the air.
"Commander, your actions during the battle of Proxima III bordered towards irresponsibility," Picard said. All pretense of civility was gone from him. In its place was a cold Command officer about to slam-dunk a subordinate.
"You recklessly endangered your ship and your crew on numerous occasions. You left the other ships under your command to attack those Drakh vessels-vessels that had the firepower to break your shields and destroy your vessel. As leader of your battle group, you endangered their lives and the lives of your crew needlessly."
"How dare you!" She was screaming and right now, she could have cared less. "I did my job out there like everyone else. You don't have the right to judge my actions out there. Those crew and our ships know every time we go out there that we may no be coming back. My job is to make sure that they do and that's exactly what I did!"
"Commander," he yelled back. The fury in his tone actually intimidated her. "You attacked without regard to those under your command. You did not do your job. Instead, you allowed your passions to get in the way and almost got the people under your command killed. If you were Starfleet, at the very least I would have a severe reprimand placed in your record. But you are not. Instead you are Second-in-Command of a besieged station that is fighting for its very survival. Therefore, I will only offer you some well needed advice," he said, stopping her before she respond. "In order for your crew to trust you with their lives, they need to know that you have their interests in mind in the middle of a fire fight. You will have to control your rage, or it will destroy you."
She wanted to hit him, to curse at him, choke the life out of him, or all three at the same time. But as much as she hated him for it, he was right. Her actions almost caused her death once before. She was so eager during the battle for Babylon Five that she nearly failed to eject in time before her damaged Star Fury destroyed itself. She thought of this in an instant, but her face remained a mask of indignation. "Are you going to report me?"
"No, Susan," Picard stated. "It is my responsibility to inform you what I've seen of your actions. Captain Sheridan is responsible for you. The consequences for your actions will be determined by him. I will give him detailed records of the battle, for analysis. What he does will be up to him. You are an excellent officer, Ivanova. But you need to control your passions."
"You mean suppress it like you do yours," she retorted.
"There are times when passions must be controlled," he answered. "We do whatever is necessary for our ships and those who serve under us. It's the price we pay for command, Commander."
"Anything else Captain?" she asked coldly.
"Listen to what I'm saying," he continued, trying to get past her defenses. "I have seen many good Captains die because they allowed their emotions to interfere with their judgment. You did well out there, Commander. But we don't want to lose you, also."
It must have been the tone of his voice, but she was calming down slightly. How many times had she told those under her command the same thing? However she felt that now was not the time to admit it. "I'll do what I have to do, Captain."
Picard sighed. "Transporter room, lock onto Commander Ivanova and beam her to her ship."
"Aye, Sir."
The last thing she saw before she faded away was Picard looking worriedly at her. That crack in his demeanor surprised her and would in the coming days give her a lot to think about because she knew that the other shoe might well drop on her head.
***
TBC