Once more, I do not own what has been used in Star Trek and Babylon 5.
Constructive criticism is encouraged, so flames are welcome.
On the third planet of the star called Abba, morning broke out over one of the water-covered communities of the Abbai colony of Tavita. With dawn came the inevitable rituals of morning that were the same as on the homeworld of Ssumssha on the fourth planet, except almost all of them were underwater. Since Tavita was closer to its sun than Abba IV, it was generally hotter and most Abbai prefer to stay underwater to keep themselves cool.
Oumal and Beshant, neighbors for several cycles, met early each day in Beshant's spacious iridescent-walled home to enjoy the pleasures of debate, discussion and delicacies. Beshant's food processors were renowned on Tavita and the quality of his conversation was rumored to be almost just as good.
"You're looking very well," Oumal said as she emitted bubbles to tickle Beshant's face in greeting.
"And you, may I say, look even better today than you did yesterday." Beshant's bubbles rose in courteous response and welcome. "I hope you will join me and share a few humble refreshments." Beshant led Oumal to a low wide table floating between two curved padded silver couches. The table's golden surface was covered, as usual, with many small shell-like dishes of food.
"With pleasure." Oumal settled slowly onto a couch. Once comfortable, she assumed the appropriate posture for polite conversation and selected a fish meatball wrapped in gleaming pink seaweed. For a moment, she idly wondered why, as far as she knew, all worlds have their own form of meatballs.
"Did you hear?" asked Beshant.
Oumal expressed surprise. "Are you inquiring about my capability for aural reception?"
"No, no. I'm using the quaint Earther idiom for information transmission."
Oumal made a gesture of understanding, but annoyance caused her ear-fins to lay flat against her head. "You might have stated that plainly."
"Apologies. Do you have knowledge of events that transpired on the Markab homeworld?"
"Yes. A plague nearly destroyed the Markab civilization before a mysterious ship came out of nowhere with a cure for the plague." Oumal thought it was a good thing. She had learned that the plague was 100 contagious and 100 fatal. She wouldn't like to imagine what would happen if the plague mutated and start affecting other sentient races throughout Known Space.
"The Markab are already calling it the Salvation of the Lights, so I am given to understand." Beshant delicately popped a morsel into his mouth.
Oumal nodded. "Given their reputed religious faith, that is understandable. The Markab would apply religious morality to everything." Here, Oumal paused to eat a small wriggling creature with many multicolored legs. "I learned from the early newsburst that religious disillusion is causing the Markab government to collapse. A provisional government has replaced the traditional theocracy."
Beshant contemplated both her words and the food. "Religious disillusion does seem to be a potential problem. Even for our own people. You are, of course, aware of which I am referring to."
Oumal nodded grimly. The Darkening. Abbai scientists and priests still have not found an explanation for the seconds-long Darkening. Even the Helomai, Abbai telepaths who are closer to nature than normal Abbai, were disturbed by it. As a resultâ€.
"Sha'lai," said Oumal with distaste.
"Indeed," said Beshant. "A cult dedicated to the worship of the Father of Storms, Ruler of the Deep. The Darkening has given it life. I would just as soon not have Sha'lai take root in our waters."
Oumal gave a ponderous shrug. "May I remind you, Beshant, that our culture adheres to the tolerance and respect of all. For now, the Storm Father resides in our pantheon."
"Not to disparage this fascinating subject, does no one know the identity of the mysterious saviors of the Markab?" Beshant popped a curling sea creature, tied with black seaweed to prevent it from swimming away, into his mouth. Try as he might, he couldn't dig for information on the mystery ship that came to Markab's salvation.
"Thus far," Oumal said, "no one has any idea of the identity. The mystery ship has left Markab, most likely due to the troubles there. The matriarchs in the Marti are advising the Natar, Empress-Mother Yrisha, and Ambassador Kalika Qwal'mizra to initiate contact with the mystery ship."
Beshant said, "So the mystery remains a mystery."
"For now."
Bubbles of amusement filled the chamber and both Abbai fell silent in order to concentrate more fully upon the delicious fare laid out on the golden table floating between them.
Hakudo Maru
The red ship flashed out of a blooming blue-white flower in space, dropping out of warp. The glow of the blue outline of its ring faded and thrusters blew, braking the ship in the void between the stars. Black scorch marks marred the red beauty of the ship here and there, and glittering plasma was venting from the rear. Beings in EVA suits began to appear to patch some of the damages.
"We're stuck."
T'Sara, having recovered in the infirmary, wearily looked at the ship's engineer. Even after meditations, she still felt weary. It was unfortunate that the Oran'taku Doctor Nashiin was murdered. "Please clarify. We cannot afford the luxury to utter inanities."
The engineer appeared insulted, but he nodded in acceptance.
"The impulse engines are severely damaged, the warp core is operating less than optimally due to the cold-start. Some of the shield generators are burnt out. It will require the facilities of a starbase to make repairs. Obviously there isn't any starbase here. Soâ€we're stuck."
Not to mention access to a Vulcan master healer. Physically, T'Sara was not hurt, but her mind was another matter. That PsiCop interrogator.... It gave her a small un-Vulcan satisfaction to see his face when the transporter rescued her from his ministrations.
A beep sounded over the intercom. T'Sara pressed a button in the conference table.
"Director, we're receiving an encrypted tachyon message. It wasn't hard for the computers to decrypt it, but you need to see this."
T'Sara arched an eyebrow. No one but EarthForce, PsiCorps and Interplanetary Expeditions knew of them. Logically, the message had to come from either of these agencies. "Relay the message to the conference room."
A monitor came to life on a wall, attracting the attention of all in the conference room. Words appeared letter by letter on the monitor. I'm sorry. Go to Babylon 5. You can find sanctuary there. L.T.
Laurel Takashima. Under the message were coordinates that pointed to the Epsilon Eridani System. T'Sara turned back to the others in the room. They knew what she was asking.
John Howard was the first to speak up. "How can we trust those bastards? We almost died! No, we must not go where the bitch pied piper is pointing."
Liria looked up from her lap, showing no emotion on her face. While that may be commendable for Vulcans, T'Sara knew it wasn't a sign of health for emotional beings. Liria had not allowed herself to mourn. "Ms. Takashima must know we cannot fall for the same trick. I am inclined to believe her this time. Of course, we can see if it's a trap from far away before entering the system. If it is, we can always just leave."
"Logical," said T'Sara as a compliment.
"You can't be thinking of doing this!" Howard shouted. "Epsilon Eridani waaay across the width of the Earth Alliance!" Other people were nodding.
T'Sara gestured toward the engineer, saying, "Can we be detected at warp?"
The engineer shook his head. "The fastest way for them to scan for anything is by tachyon. We would have never received this message if we haven't dropped out of warp here."
"We then can remain at warp the entire journey to Epsilon Eridani and this Babylon 5. Should the sanctuary be less than forthcoming, we shall depart for other parts." T'Sara did not know where to go if it came to that. The Minbari that they mentioned? It was unfortunate that they could not receive tachyon broadcasts yet. As far as she could figure, tachyon broadcasts and communications were sent over narrow beams, most of which went through Hyperspace for instantaneous connections. For that, they need a jumpengine connected to a tachyon communication array.
T'Sara turned her full attention to each person in the conference room, taking full charge of her directorship. "Once preliminary repairs are completed, we shall set course for Babylon 5."
The EVA suited beings, once finished with their tasks, disappeared into the red ship. Thrusters fired again, some longer than others, reorienting the ship to the direction of Epsilon Eridani. Once the thruster maneuvers were finished, the ring nacelle glowed once more. The Hakudo Maru warped away in search of a promised port of call, a beacon of hope.
Babylon 5
Lyta Alexander was frustrated and suspicious.
Why aren't they letting me scan her? Lyta thought. Couldn't they see that it's too important to let even one mind slip past me?
"What are you hiding?" Lyta snarled.
Commander Susan Ivanova was feeling put on the spot. How dare she suspect meThe tiny voice of doubt pushed itself into her mind. Are you sure? Are you absolutely positively sure? She did say that you wouldn't know at all. Ivanova didn't want to think about that possibility, squashing the voice once again.
Captain John Sheridan decided that it was time to break the tension. This was exactly what PsiCorps wanted. All this paranoia and suspicion dividing them all.
Sheridan was stepping forward when his commlink chirped for his attention. Annoyed at the interruption, he said into the commlink, "Sheridan. What is it?" Annoyance and exhaustion had sharpened his voice. It was Lieutenant David Corwin in C&C.
"Uhhh, sorry, sir. A strange ship just came in out of nowhere. It's asking for you. A shuttle is being sent to the docking bay. And, Captainâ€you have to see this."
Strange ship? That has to mean they couldn't find anything like it on record. Sheridan looked at the monitor on the wall behind his desk. It was showing a relayed vid of a ship. It was strange indeed. And fragile-looking too.
What a time for a monkeywrench to be thrown in this! "All right, thanks. I'm coming. Sheridan out." Sheridan looked around at the people gathered in his office. His eyes narrowed when he looked at the rogue telepath Lyta Alexander. So far, they had found nothing. No Control. Maybe Lyta was fooled by PsiCorps to test her loyalty? It wouldn't be the first time they did that. He hoped it wasn't wishful thinking.
"We have to hold off on this, Ms. Alexander." Ignoring her protests, Sheridan turned to the security chief. "Mr. Garibaldi, put guards on the office. I'm holding you personally responsible for her safety here."
Ivanova exhaled a sigh of relief. The damned telepath wouldn't find out about her latent ability, then. The sigh drew a sharp look of suspicion from Lyta.
xxxxxxx
Sheridan walked with Ivanova down a hall. "You all right, Susan?"
Ivanova sighed in relief once more. "Yes. Thanks for getting me off the hook." To be found out in such an unsavory manner....
Sheridan waved it off. "No problem. The universe may be a cruel place, but it throws the occasional bone to keep us liking the universe." A cruel place is rightâ€the strange dimming of everything, those Markab. Half the Markab and two Pak'ma'Ra on Babylon 5 died before the cure was sent from the Markab homeworld. What a cruel bone. They walked in silence, uncomfortably thinking about the problem of Control. Was he right in excusing Ivanova? No...he had to trust her. Unbidden, the memory came of a saying he heard from Narns describing the Centauri.
Trust is the color of Death.
He shook his head to get rid of that thought. He brightened when he saw Talia Winters walking towards him. Ivanova brightened as well.
Talia paused when she saw them, looking a bit surprised, and continued walking to them. "I have been looking for you, Captain. I was expecting to find you in your office." She turned to smile at Ivanova. "And where are you going?"
Ivanova glanced at Sheridan for permission. He gave a subtle nod. A licensed telepath would help in this first-contact situation. Plus, he would see how she handles the new arrivals. If she does well, it would help convince him to bring Talia into their little anti-Clarke movement sooner.
"Oh we're just going to meet some aliens," Ivanova quipped. "Put the fear of God in them for interrupting this fine day."
Talia smirked, recognizing Ivanova's mood. "This, I want to see!"
Another mind watched all of this.
xxxxxxx
The white boxy shuttle landed on the deck of the docking bay. The shuttle was a tiny affair, only big enough for a few people. The blue glow in what must be their engines faded. Amazingly, the cursive script on it was recognizable, spelling "Galileo," a very human name. Already, it was promising to be a most interesting first-contact situation. Sheridan pulled his uniform down tighter over his chest, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead.
The hatch slid open and two beings stepped out. Sheridan, Ivanova, Talia, and Garibaldi stared in surprise. The beings were human. Where could humans get this kind of craft? Sheridan irrationally thought of Bureau 13.
Wait. Upon looking a second time, one of them was an alien. Sheridan was sure that this alien's species was never encountered before. Pointy ears and converging eyebrows giving him a vampiric look. Sheridan was almost expecting him to open his mouth and display fangs in it.
Both of them were wearing some kind of uniform which looked military. Burgundy red double-breasted tunic held by a black belt at the waist, black pants with red piping, and black boots. They also had a white turtleneck shirt underneath their tunics. Each person wore an insignia over the left breast and an identical one is worn as a belt buckle, obviously a symbol for their entire military force, and rank insignias on a white epaulet over their right shoulder. The rank insignias were repeated on the left cuff of their tunics.
Sheridan didn't recognize their fleet symbol which appeared to be a star cut into an odd four-sided triangle. How could they survive wearing red? Those red tunics must be easy to spot in a combat situation. Those pointy sideburnsâ€they must be like the old standard military haircut that went out of fashion with the Minbari War. Where could these people come from? He didn't think that the Vree actually abducted many humans and planted them somewhere else on an isolated planet. Then again...their ship outside Babylon 5 shows some Vree influence.
Sheridan could see Talia staring intently at the pointy-eared alien. He could understand that, although there must be some other reason for her to stare so rudely.
The man in front stepped forward. "I am James T. Kirk, Captain of the Federation starship Enterprise...."
After introducing the other man as Captain Spock, Kirk shook hands with Sheridan who then introduced his own people. Two captains on a starship? Sheridan could not imagine how such a military command structure could function. Something like in the ancient Roman Republic where two consuls shared presidential powers? As he recalled, that system failed.
The other mind was still watching all of this happening. It decided to make its move on the person closer to it than Ivanova.
The password poured into Talia's mind.
Everyone were startled when Talia crumpled, looking anguished. She fell into Garibaldi's arms, causing him to yell, "What the hell?!" Grabbing his PPG from his holster, she pushed Garibaldi hard, causing him to fall clumsily to the deck. Talia swung the PPG to the direction of the other mind, firing into the darkness. Everyone else dropped to the deck, not wanting a stray plasma pulse to hit them.
Spock stepped to behind Talia while she was still shooting into the dark, screaming, "You blew my cover! You're dead! Do you hear me? You're dead! The Corps is mother, the Corps is father! You're dead, Lyta Alexander! We'll find you! The Corps will find you!" The Vulcan reached up to where Talia's neck met her shoulder and pinched that area. Talia stiffened, throwing her head backward and widened her eyes. Eyes rolling back into her head, she fainted.
Sheridan and everyone else stared down at Talia's elegant body crumpled on the deck, shocked.
Lyta Alexander came out of hiding among the structures of the docking bay. "I don't believe it. It's her."
The station commander couldn't believe it eitherâ€and this Spock somehow knocked her cold with a simple touch!
xxxxxx
"...and this sleeper program has replaced her personality entirely." Sheridan peered at the newcomers for their reaction. The reaction ranged from open disgust to interested curiosity. They were a wild card here. Sheridan glanced at Lyta. He hated being forced to explain himself to strangers. He only explained about the sleeper program, nothing about his own activities. It wasn't their business.
Garibaldi wasn't sure if these newcomers were who they said they were. They came at a time too opportune to be a coincidence. He still couldn't think clearly enough. He felt ashamed that he didn't include not allowing people to get out of captain's office in the orders he gave to the guards. Talia.... My God, we were so close to bringing her into our little conspiracy. Too close. One more week and we would be dead men walking. However, with what Talia knew already, they may be dead anyway. Jeez...he trusted her and that was saying something.
Now...these newcomers. They're a wild card and a problem. Ok, they solved a problem by knocking Talia cold before she shot anyone, but still a problem.
Terror. Surprise. Reflection. For the Future. Garibaldi suddenly remembered Talia telling him about her work with Kosh and the weird Vicar Abbut and a data crystal. Maybe a key to restoring the elegant blonde telepath's original personality? What about these strangers? Garibaldi felt torn between his concern for Talia and his duty to watch for any game from the strangers. He made a decision.
"Captain," Garibaldi said. "I have an ideaâ€but I have to check it and get back with you. Talia and...." He gestured at the newcomers, not caring if he appeared rude. After all, they agreed to leave their weapons on their shuttle so they weren't in any danger from them. Ivanova, in spite of her shock, could handle the two. "Two birds with one stone."
Sheridan nodded, and Garibaldi ran out of the office.
Kirk was amazed at everything. At the Earth Alliance, this space station. Would this be what his Earth be like if there was no warp drive, no gravity control technology, no Vulcans, no political union with alien worlds, and a Third World War not devastating enough to force humans to rebuild their entire world from scratch?
He glanced at Spock. He could see that he was thinking along similar lines.
But Kirk was troubled. This...sleeper program and the concept of PsiCorps troubled him. It meant corruption was still rife on Earth. The destruction of most of the governments on Earth and the Vulcan First Contact erased most of the corruption. As sick as it may sound, the near total destruction in the Third World War may have been needed to clean up Earth politics. He knew that Vulcans would think twice about contacting Earth if they knew about the PsiCorps. At least the Vulcans he knew. The old Vulcans probably wouldn't care. He'd read what little he could about their dealings with the corrupt Coridan and Mazarite governments before their civil war.
He looked up as a woman stepped into Captain Sheridan's office. The woman was beautiful, looked human except for the headbone and the hairless brow almost like that of a Boslic.
"John, I—" The woman stopped when she saw that Sheridan wasn't alone.
Sheridan widened his eyes, cautioning Delenn.
"May I introduce Delenn, Ambassador for the Minbari Federation." Delenn formally bowed with her hands outlining a triangle between them.
Spock recognized an affinity with her species. The recognition was illogical, but this Minbari woman's aura reminded him of the Kolinahr Priestess on Vulcan. A Kolinahr Priestess with emotions, however un-Vulcan and illogical that isâ€. He raised his right hand and parted his ring and middle fingers into a V. "Peace and long life."
Delenn stared at the pointy-eared alien, startled. "Please pardon me, but where do you come from?"
"Vulcan."
Delenn gaped. "This is not possible..." She turned to Sheridan to explain herself, but carefully. The newcomers were not privy to all of their knowledge. "Johnâ€in the...last war, there was a people called...." Delenn thought hard here and carefully pronounced the name. "Vuhl-kahn-su."
Spock raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't expected that Vulcan would exist in this quantum reality. "That was indeed a native name for my people. May I ask, Ambassador, what happened to the Vulcans?"
Delenn stared once more. She couldn't believe that this man was a Vulcan and yet did not know what happened to his own world.
"Ah...records are fragmented...we do not really know. Your...people were an ally in a war. That is all we know. We do not know why we have not seen any sign of them." Delenn looked pointedly at Spock. "Until now." Where were these people really from? Did they stay on their homeworld, waiting for the right moment to come out of hiding? And why reveal themselves, especially now? Delenn looked at Kirk, obviously a human. Why do these...Vulcans have humans with them? It was suspicious.
Spock merely arched an eyebrow. "While I am a Vulcan, I am not of this universe's Vulcan species."
Confusion clouded the faces of Delenn, Sheridan and Ivanova.
Here we go again, thought Kirk as Spock launched into an explanation.
Spock understood the Babylon 5 officers' concern about Talia. While Sheridan did not say why they were concerned about this sleeper program, troubling as it is in itself, logically, it meant they had something to hide from PsiCorps and their Earth government. He wondered idly about how the sleeper program could be adapted into something beneficial for the storage and maintenance of katras. It was something for the Vulcan Science Directorate to figure out.
Delenn interrupted Spock's explanation. "When was this...transit into our universe?"
"52 days and twelve hours ago."
Delenn glanced at Sheridan who was also wide-eyed. That was the time the universe dimmed. A troubling connection. But...a trans-dimensional transit shouldn't be enough to do that. She nodded for Spock to continue. It was...difficult to believe the story, but in a way it made sense. If people could tear holes into hyperspace, then with sufficiently advanced science, gateways could be created to access other universes. Delenn could sense truth in Spock's words.
When Spock was finished explaining his and Kirk's origins, he decided to do something to earn their trust. He focused his attention on Captain Sheridan who was still mulling over the new information just given. "Captain, may I suggest something for your problem?"
xxxxxx
Talia was looking smug in her cell. Control has completely taken over. All the little whispers in the old mind, pushing the original Talia to get close to key persons, even to the point of having anti-Corps sympathies.
The cell door's lock clicked, attracting her attention. The door slid open, admitting that alien with the pointy fingers. He seemed to be concentrating, his hands interlocked in front of his face with the forefingers pressing against each other, creating a tiny triangle over the interlocked fists. He looked even more sinister that way than when she saw him in the docking bay. The alien hands finally disconnected and one of them reached out to touch her face.
Talia shook her head in resistance, which was all she could do being shackled to her chair. She'd known that this alien had telepathic abilities when she met him. Spock caught her head and held it as he touched her katra points. Fascinated, Talia watched Spock's eyes gaze deep into hers as he began the chant for the Vulcan mind meld. "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts. Our minds are one. My thoughts are your thoughts, your thoughts are my thoughts. Our thoughts are one...." The quiet hypnotic voice faded as she felt her mind actually connecting with this alien's mind, all resistance melting away from his mental caresses. She could feel the smooth surface of the alien's mind and the surface was a mere veil hiding and controlling emotions roiling like hyperspace itself. Order on chaos. An image came into her mind of a valley between jagged dry mountains, a valley made artificially flat with straight wide lines, a little lighter in color than the Mars-like redness of the ground, arranged on it like the Nazca Lines in Peru on Earth. A hole built like a well flanked by two obelisks in the valley floor spouted flames up to the hot red and dusty sky. Oddly, she felt as if this world was her homeworld. Her Control personality was slowly attracted to the dancing beauty of the fire like a moth....
xxxxxxxx
Garibaldi stared hard at the small monitor showing Talia's cell. He couldn't believe Sheridan would allow an alien access to the telepath. He'd argued, raged at Sheridan before submitting, then made veiled threats to Spock about the welfare of the woman. Spock must have been something to be able to persuade the captain. He didn't like telepaths, except for Talia Winters. He hoped this trust won't mean the touch of a dagger in the back. He glanced worriedly back at Sheridan who was studying the monitor with interest.
Sounds of Talia gasping and panting came over the speakers. Garibaldi had to reassure himself that if it was a form of torture, it was Control, not Talia receiving it. Still.... When Talia gave a short shout, Garibaldi was itching to go into the cell, rip Spock away from Talia and beating the vampire-looking alien up. Sheridan's sharp look kept him rooted to the spot.
This...what did Spock call it? A mind meld...it seemed to be the ultimate in telepathic violation of mental privacy. Sheridan shivered. He'd never liked PsiCorps but he could see why it was needed. Humans thrived on privacy and the ability to hide their own truths. Without privacy, humans would go mad and make each other mad. For humans, trust meant willingness to help each other with their truths. Telepathy, as he had learned, undermined that ability. He had his doubts about that. Then again, he doubted everything, including the impossible. It helped him do the impossible: destroy the Minbari flagship Black Star in the Earth-Minbari War. He hoped he would do as well in the coming war.
xxxxxxxx
Sheridan walked with Delenn in the Zen Garden. "What should we do about Ms. Winters?"
Delenn looked up into his eyes. "This Spock claims that the sleeper personality no longer controls Talia, but...it still resides in her mind. Surely she would no longer endanger any of you."
"I'm not so sure about that. Even if she won't betray us anymore, PsiCorps still could force Ms. Winters." Talia was a conundrum, a difficult problem. If she stayed, PsiCorps would come get her. If she leaves, PsiCorps would still come, suspicious as to why her Control program failed. Talia wouldn't know how to be Control to fool PsiCorps or Bureau 13 and PsiCorps would then come. At least the newcomers were not as difficult a problem, so far.
Delenn glanced down at the Zen rock garden, at the way the sand made waves around the stones, at the way the tiny banzai trees made shadows over the rocks and the wavy sand. "I have an idea, John."
xxxxxxxx
Ivanova looked at Talia sadly. "I don't blame you."
Talia smiled sadly. Human and alien beings milled around at the gate to the docking bay. She touched Ivanova's hand with a gloved hand. "I know. I still feel responsible. Thank you for the temporary stay at your quarters."
Ivanova hardened her face to keep her emotions from overcoming her. "At least the Talia I knew is still alive. What are you going to do now?"
Talia moved her blonde hair back from her face to her ear. "The program's still inside my head. My mind's still full of holes.... Ambassador Delenn bought my contract from PsiCorps. The amount of money she offered had the Corps drooling." She pulled a data crystal from her purse for Ivanova to see. It glittered much more brightly than Talia's Corps badge in the light. "Delenn and Michael got this from Ambassador Kosh. We're hoping that the technicians and telepathic healers on Minbar can figure out how to use this to repair my personality."
Ivanova wasn't sure if that was possible. The Earth Alliance had the technology to erase personalities and construct entire new ones. It was difficult to turn back the clock on that technique. But then the Minbari were a thousand years ahead of Earth.
She didn't know if she could recover from the shock of having her trust so abused even though it wasn't really Talia's fault. Her eyes wandered down to the Corps badge on the telepath's black half of her collar. Talia, she could forgive. PsiCorps and Bureau 13, she won't forgive. Ever.
"Transport 46 boarding. Transport 46 boarding." The announcer continued to repeat in other languages and some beings began to line up at the gate with their carry-ons and tickets.
Talia straightened herself and smoothed down her black and golden-brown dress. "That's my ride to Minbar. Maybe I'll see you around."
Ivanova and Talia hugged once. The Russian woman doubted she would see her only telepathic friend again.
xxxxxxxx
Lyta Alexander, wearing a breather mask, entered Ambassador Kosh's quarters. Here was the awesome being that made her life's purpose crystal clear. She spoke hurriedly.
Kosh listened distractedly. Most of his mind was on the visitors that Sheridan recently received. Those visitors were never part of the Circle. They belonged in another part of the Pattern and were never meant to disrupt the song of the Age Lace. Because of their incursion into the Circle, the Pattern could be in danger of unraveling itself. When the universe went dark for a few seconds, Kosh was shaken to the core of his very being. For a brief moment, much briefer than a second, he and every other Vorlon sensed a presence. To have this happen now was mostâ€inconvenient. He had to do something to restore the Circle. His mind returned to the human telepath Lyta. The Vorlon Empire could use another weapon in the coming war.
At the end of Lyta's passionate speech, Kosh opened his encounter suit. The light of his being shone upon Lyta and a sound like giant wings unfurling came to the awestruck human telepath.
Kosh hoped there won't be any more trans-dimensional incursions. The Vorlon Empire had more than enough of that a million years ago.
xxxxxxxx
Ivanova stared out the window of C&C, using the stars as a focus for her thoughts. Suddenly a new star bloomed. A supernova? No, that blooming light looked too close to be a nova. Actually, it appeared to be within the Epsilon Eridani System. The blue-white light quickly faded as a red ship looking like a needle through a ring stretched into existence.
A very strange form of jumppoint. She'd never seen a jumppoint form and collapse that way or that quickly before. And that ship looked far too small to have a jumpengine. She glanced down into the 'pit' at David Corwin. He shook his head. Ivanova knew that meant this particular ship had no match on file.
"Aw hell. Not another monkeywrench."
Gliese 86, Vree Outpost
The outpost, once serving as the Vree base of operations in their days of interstellar exploration until the Centauri second expansion, consisted of a small military colony hidden by the thick cloudy atmosphere of a Venusian planet. A space station was built in the wake of the Centauri Republic's second decline. In return for protection of the outpost against the Centauri, the Ventuki Conglomerate has allowed Narn cruisers to use the Vree outpost as a supply and repair depot. Now, four Narn G'Quan-class cruisers were under repair or being resupplied at the space station. Trade ships and military saucer-shaped patrollers lazily fluttered around the space station. Their lazy vigilance was interrupted when many jumppoints tore the dark heavens and Centauri warships poured out.
The Centauri warships, instead of the symbol of the Republic, bore the sigil of House Dromo on their wings. The few Vorchans were outnumbered by the smaller Vorchak-class warships. On the Vorchaks, leftovers from the second Centauri expansion, the horizontal wings were thin, not thick like the Vorchans, and the vertical wings were much shorter, shorter than the horizontal wings. The four wings were more forward-pointing than the modern Vorchans. Even though the ships had fewer weapons than Vorchans, they were enough for the Gliese 86 Star System.
One Narn cruiser was able to turn to the sudden Centauri threat, but it tore apart in the first Centauri weapon volley. The other three Narn cruisers were similarly blasted. Civilian ships fled the scene, some trying to leave the system in normal space and others were crowding the local jumpgate. The Vree recalled their patrollers to the space station, but did not open fire. The Vree thought that the Centauri were there only for the Narn. So it was with great surprise that they found Centauri weapons smashing into the space station purposefully. The same weapons were ripping tiny Vree patrol saucers open to the deadly vacuum of space. Missiles also rained upon the old base on the planet. The Centauri did not give any of them time to respond. Within an hour, the Gliese 86 star was host only to planets, gases, burnt and twisted debris, and freeze-dried mangled bodies. The local jumpgate was now Centauri property.
The Centauri no longer need to make a detour around foreign territory to reach the Narn homeward.
Abba III
It was evening on Tavita and the water over a certain community was awash in the reddish light of dusk. Before the late newsburst, Oumal and Beshant shared a meal and discussion as was their nightly habit.
"Did you hear that the Centauri has expanded their war to include the Vree?" asked Beshant.
Oumal stared at her platonic friend. That was the second League race that the Centauri attacked. The first were the Corillians who brought it on themselves by attacking the Centauri at Quadrant 17. But the Vree were just minding their own business this time. A shift in Centauri expansion plans? "No. Not that I'm surprised. They are so ill-tempered, these Centauri," said the Abbai woman. "In fact, I have often found their behavior just this side of uncivilized. It has to be most disharmonious to be so excessive with vices, drinking and cavorting as much as they do. Disharmony leads to violence."
"Agreed." Beshant and Oumal both emitted tiny bubbles to indicate a harmony of opinion. Both helped themselves to another tasty tidbit.
"Please continue," urged Oumal. Beshant always had the latest news and gossip from across Known Space. She did not know how he managed that without waiting for the newsbursts.
Beshant swallowed leisurely, savoring the taste before he allowed himself to dwell on the latest news from Abba IV, the Abbai homeworld. "An adherent of the Father of Storms made an attempt to destroy a temple dedicated to the religion of Kolai in Nolei."
"No!" Oumal's fins quivered in disbelief. Nolei was the capital city on beautiful Ssumssha. Kolai was one of the less traditional religions that used logic and knowledge instead of nature as pathways to a higher state of being. To commit violence against Kolai or any of the religions such as the traditional wind-and-water religion of Oulai was anathema.
"And," Beshant continued, "when a Peacekeeper tried to intervene, he turned on her as well."
Oumal was wordless. They could not recall a similar occurrence since the time of Natar Vessa Qwil'telai over 3,800 years ago. All Abbai were proud and ashamed of that time—pride in Empress-Mother Vessa's Matriarchate and wisdom; shame that any Abbai were able to harm another Abbai. To have this happen again....
"Then," Beshant added, "before anyone else could move, the crazed Sha'lai follower killed himself. Someone heard him muttering about going home in the Abyss."
"Shocking.... I hope Natar Yrisha is going to do something about this."
"Rumor has it that Her Serenity and the Marti are considering policies about Sha'lai. They believe it is more serious than following our mutual defense treaty obligations to the Vree. Much more important than figuring out the identity of the Markab's saviors, of course."
Oumal shook her head. "The Darkening. Sha'lai. Drafa Plague. The Centauri wars. What is the universe coming to? I always did think those Sha'lai people were inherently unstable. All that time spent being in the dark and pushing their tolerance of the deep water pressure. It's positively unhealthy."
And both Abbai shuddered at the very thought as they helped themselves to more delicacies. The water in the chamber moved to their complacency with perhaps just a dash of uneasy distaste.