"I learned about choices and consequences and responsibility. I learned that we all have choices, even when we don't recognize them, and that those choices have consequences, not just for ourselves, but for others. We must assume responsibility for those consequences."

—John Sheridan in Babylon 5: "Rising Star"

Wolf 359

Lieutenant-Commander Leonard James Akaar was barely conscious in the gleaming darkness. His body ached. He had long ago figured out that his left leg was broken. The last thing he remembered was ordering the new InterStellar Alliance fleet into battle against the Borg cube, supporting the Earthers, Minbari and Centauri. He didn't remember how he went from the command center of this Vree Xill-class saucer into this corridor.

The corridor wasn't the kind he was used to. Instead of curving or rounding outward, the corridor's sides, the walls, ceiling and floor, all curved inwardly, as if he was in between four pipes bundled together. Faint light glowed from the corners of the corridor, making everything have the sheen of a wet street on a rainy night. When he had first came awake, he feared that he had been captured by the Borg, but he then recognized this place as one of the corridors of the Vree saucer. The feeling of artificial gravity told him the ship wasn't totally crippled, but the light told him that the main power was down. Instead of the bright light emulating the daylight of Vreetan, the phosphorus grown in the corridors' corners was providing the faint moonlight-like illumination.

Akaar tried to push himself up to stand. He gritted his teeth in pain as he collapsed back onto the humped floor. His left leg was indeed broken. Rather than staying and be driven mad by the boredom, he crawled down the middle of the corridor, hoping to find another survivor.

After minutes of crawling, Akaar came upon an intersection of the featureless wet-looking corridor. There, he found a Vree lying across his way. He reached forward to touch the skin of the alien body. He could feel the powerful muscles and sinews under the fragile-looking tiny body's skin, which, itself, felt like a cross between a snake's skin and a dolphin's skin. The body felt cold. Akaar gently pressed, causing the large egg-shaped head to loll at an odd angle. He wasn't sure of Vree anatomy, but something about that angle told him that the neck was broken and s/he was dead. He sighed. He hoped a rescue would come before he joined the Vree in hir death. A rescue from one of the locals, even if the local turned out to be a scavenger, would be fine. He gently nudged the body, causing it to slide down the curved floor to the side, blotting out some of the emergency phosphorus glow in the corner.

He continued crawling, hoping to find other survivors, yet dreading the discovery of more corpses. Suddenly, Akaar could feel the tingle and hear the high-pitched whine of a Federation transporter. A rescue! Either the Excelsior or the Enterprise has come to pick him up! He felt a vast grateful relief.

The joyful relief turned into puzzlement as the transporter effect faded. The transporter room looked slightly different from what he expected. Even the crewpersons seemed different. A doctor rushed forward. Akaar found he couldn't recognize the doctor. Where was Dr. McCoy? Or the Excelsior's Bolian doctor, Altos Viger? What's going on? Did Akaar receive some small brain damage in the battle?

Akaar struggled to speak with a mouth he didn't realize was very dry. The doctor was saying, "He's suffering from internal hemorrhages! We must bring him to Sickbay, now!" The unfamiliar doctor reached out with a hypospray to touch the Capellan's carotid artery in his neck. A hiss of the hypospray soon sent him into a deep sleep.

Hyperspace

On the main viewscreen, Captain Sheridan's White Star was keeping pace ahead of the Federation starship Excelsior. They had immediately entered hyperspace while EarthForce was still distracted by the fiery destruction of the Enterprise. A silence hung over the bridge as the crew pondered the death of that starship and her captain.

"Spock," said Dr. McCoy as he gently touched the Vulcan's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Spock turned to face McCoy stiffly, his face completely devoid of emotion. "Yes, Doctor."

McCoy shared a look with Captain Sulu. "You can't be all right, Spock! Jim's dead!"

"That indeed seemed evident in what we saw in the Sol System."

McCoy tried his best to imitate Spock's eyebrow-arching. "'Seemed evident'? Are you saying you agree that Captain Kirk died on that damned ship?"

Sulu and McCoy watched Spock silently turn back to watching the main viewscreen as the starship jumped in one of hyperspace's countless turbulences. Ever since leaving Sol, Spock had been extremely stone-faced and mechanical. They sympathized. As friends and fellow crewmen who worked with him for many years, they knew that he was never more logical and relentlessly unemotional than when he was using his Vulcan mental discipline to cope with huge emotional stresses.

Dr. McCoy tried once more. "I know you are closer to Jim than anyone in the universe. And this is why—"

"This is why I did not feel his death."

The doctor was taken aback. He had suspected that Kirk and Spock had developed through an extremely close friendship a bond similar to what he had read in the medical history of other such bonds between Vulcans and humans. Sulu decided it was time for him to look away and give them the illusion of privacy so he stood and went over to the science station to deepen the study of hyperspace.

"What the hell does that mean! He's dead!"

"Doctor, I did not and still do not feel his death."

McCoy raised his hands in a posture of surrender. "Okay, okay, so you still need to deal with the impact. You may be a Vulcan, but that sure doesn't mean you're immune to emotional trauma."

Spock simply stared at him expressionlessly, his eyes going colder. McCoy raised his eyebrows and decided it would be counterproductive to push the Vulcan any further. Sighing, the doctor went back to watching the dizzying swirls of hyperspace.

The ship's navigator, Angelo Tiffe, spoke up, breaking the thick silence. "Approaching the jumpgate. The White Star is signaling the gate for activation."

Sulu stood from the science station, clasping his hands behind himself, to watch the procedure. It never ceased to amaze him. He still had not taken warp technology for granted, appreciating it for the technological miracle it was, but jump technology was still new to him and therefore even more amazing.

A vortex appeared in the midst of the hellish dimension and the White Star slipped into it, stretching itself before vanishing into a tiny flash of light. Soon, the helmsman, Kruton Lojur, had the Excelsior following it out of hyperspace through the Babylon 5 jumpgate. Alien and human ships, as usual, surrounded the five miles long space station, in the dozens. In their time in this universe, the Excelsior was getting more and more familiar with the alien vessels, though there were some that were never seen before. Sulu doubted that they could ever finish cataloging the ships that pass through this sector.

But there was one ship that needed no cataloging whatsoever.

"Sir…," whispered Lieutenant-Commander Lojur.

"I see it," said Sulu. He looked to Spock who was now at the science station to verify what they were seeing. Through the Vulcan's manipulations of the controls, the main viewscreen isolated the ship and magnified exponentially. It was an Oberth-class starship.

As if he sensed the crew's amazed disbelief, Spock magnified the screen some more until they could read the letters emblazoned on the saucer held in between the ship's warp nacelles. USS Springfield NCC-1936.

Incredulity warred with delight on the crew's faces. Home have come to them!

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Hikaru Sulu, Spock, Leonard McCoy, Nyota Uhura and Janice Rand all had to resist the temptation to run out of the shuttle settling in the docking bay. They could see the station's security officer, Chief Garibaldi standing with the acting Federation Ambassador Miranda Jones in her jeweled sensor net and another woman in a Starfleet uniform. Though the wine-red tunic and black pants were a familiar sight on both the Enterprise and Excelsior, seeing such a uniform on someone who was clearly not a crewmember of either ship brought out a delighted reaction from everyone except the unemotional Spock.

As the most senior commander of the stranded Federationers, Captain Spock stepped forward, inclining his head in respectful greeting and recognition. The woman, though aging, still had her blonde beauty from the last time Spock saw her in 2266. "Captain Areel Shaw."

The elegantly coiffed woman gave a small frosty smile. "Captain Spock. A fine mess you have left for Starfleet."

Dumbfounded, the newly arrived Federationers stared at her. Where was the warm welcome?

Miranda looked at them with sympathy while Garibaldi looked like he wanted to wince.

Hyperspace

Ambassador Kosh Naranek communed and sang with his ship and the ship sang with him as they traveled through hyperspace. The ship inserted a note in the song that was almost discordant, yet still harmonious to show its concern for Kosh.

The Vorlon ambassador sang his gratitude for the ship's concern. He was worried. Hence, the necessity for this trip.

The recent events had nearly pushed Ulkesh's clique into dominating the Vorlon High Command. Kosh had used the skills of his entire being to dissuade Ulkesh and the High Command from the temptation of choosing the interventionist course too early. The price for that was too high. The whole Empire was working hard to preserve the Circle as it was before the extra-universal contamination. Interfering now would wreck the integrity of the Circle more than the Newcomers ever could. He admitted that the militant solution was tempted him as well, especially when that extra-universal ambassador tried to persuade him into interfering with the Borg incursion. Kosh agreed with Ulkesh on one point: if the Borg were allowed to proceed, all would be lost. The quarrel with the Lords of Chaos would be made moot. Dangerously moot.

Ambassador Miranda Jones was right. If they did nothing, the Borg would keep sending cubes to assimilate the worlds of this part of the galaxy. Intelligence about the battle at Jupiter indicated that the Borg has assimilated Shadow technology. That meant the Borg would come with much more powerful cubes and target the Shadow homeworld itself. That would endanger all of the First Ones. The Borg was possibly more dangerous than the aliens that his people fought a million years ago. The sound of a crystal chimed in the midst of his song. Kosh doubted that even the Yonji Sinhindrea could successfully fight the Borg Collective.

It was perhaps fortunate that the Newcomers gave the Vorlon Empire the time it desperately needed to eliminate the threat and preserve the Circle.

A crystalline chime sounded from the ship and the song changed slightly, opening a jumppoint.

The planet seen beyond appeared to be abandoned, but through his ship, Kosh could feel the footprints of those who lived here in the sands of the planet. He could see a network of glowing lines in the planet's surface. The song of this place was different from what the Vorlon Empire liked and used, but it was still beautiful to the ambassador.

Sigma 957.

Away from the planet, an area of space filled with lightning bolts, a storm announcing the arrival of the planet's owners. A vast vessel somersaulted out of the vortex. The alien ship, which dwarfed Kosh' transport, had an ethereally glowing saucer on the back, the main body being made up of bone-like structures. Tiny colored lights flitted around this body like fairies and the tip of the ship was a translucent globe filled with colored lights moving through the dark inside.

Kosh, though respectful, was not impressed.

A head appeared before the Vorlon ambassador. It appeared to be a mask carved of wood with a face cut on all four sides. The red glow of a blast furnace appeared to issue from the mouths and eyes, and from the open top and bottom. In his studies of Earth, Kosh had been amused to find that this iconic representation would be called a tiki-idol's head. He began to rumble his song to the Walkers of Sigma 957.

"I am Kosh the Wandering Pilgrim of the Secret Fire. We are faced with a problem."

The apparition moved slightly, rumbling like a distant jet engine as it listened. "Fire-kindler, the problem is not ours. You chose the path. You must tread that path alone until you resolve your quarrel."

Kosh resisted the temptation to bristle at the Walker. "The quarrel is our own and we shall resolve the quarrel in our way. No. The problem I speak of is the biomechanical infection festering in another universe and threatens to sicken us all."

"We are aware of the infection."

In other words, the Walker was saying 'So?'

"Moon-walker, we are not prepared to deal with the infection directly. We sincerely and respectfully ask that you help by aligning yourselves with other First Ones to remove the infection."

The tiki-apparition rumbled more loudly and flames appeared to spurt from behind the mask. "Zog! Vorlon tavutna chog!"

Kosh now bristled at the refusal and insult, and had to resist ordering his ship to open fire on the Walker vessel. Doing so would have elevated the grudge between the two First One races into a war, something the Vorlon Empire could ill afford. "The youngest of the First Ones, the Kirishiac, have already agreed. They only await you. You have the ability to wander the omniverse, to step into other universes. Refuse and the Kirishiac will be forced to use the quantum rift near Vreetan. That will risk revealing ourselves to the young ones. Time will be wasted. The infection would by then have sent more infectors and succeed in assimilating worlds without number. Not even the First Ones would be safe against the cancer that would grow in this universe."

The tiki-head apparition moved for a while, appearing to ponder Kosh's speech. "You call yourselves Dreamers in the Heart of Time, Singers in the Deeps of Time. The Minbari, as one of your children, call you Powerful Heavenly Ones, and The Highly Exalted Ones." The apparition vanished.

Kosh had to hold his patience and soothed his ship with song. Through this, he was soothing himself. He felt mocked by that last statement from the Walkers. He hated to admit it, but in this instance, the Empire needed them. He knew that the Walkers were now convening among themselves about the Vorlon Empire's proposal. He could almost hear the subtle change in their song's tenor.

Finally, the apparition reappeared before the ambassador. "We are aware that you desire this only so that your Morning Star will continue to rise and keep the Circle. We do not approve."

Kosh quietly sang of his disappointment and it was his ship's turn to soothe him. The Empire would have to hurry in getting the Entil'zha to travel to the last war. The Walkers were not finished, however.

"But we agree that the infection cannot be allowed to spread, to change the circles of the omniverse beyond repair. We will proceed with the operation." The iconic apparition vanished for a final time and lightning bolts flashed around the Walker vessel. As the tiny dots of colored light flitted faster around the translucent globe on the tip, the huge ship moved, appearing to somersault backwards deep into the electrical storm and vanished in a flash of bright light.

Kosh Naranek felt a great soaring joy. Perhaps the Circle can be saved and returned to the usual circle of time in this universe! The Vorlon transport and Kosh sang together, changing melodies to gain entry into hyperspace.

Babylon 5

Michael Alfredo Garibaldi watched as Captains Spock, Sulu and Doctor McCoy conversed with the woman Areel Shaw in Captain Sheridan's office. He shook his head. More people coming from the other universe. When will the visits stop?

As he studied the reactions of the Federationers to Areel's words, Garibaldi didn't particularly like the old blonde. Miss Shaw reminded him too much of Major Lianna Kemmer before she forgave him for the death of her father at Jupiter. If the Federationers haven't proven their worth to the anti-Shadow alliance, he would be suspicious of Areel. Then again…. Starfleet could be a lot like EarthForce: many officers angling for political advantages or marching to the tunes of idiotic politicians. He leaned to the side to whisper to Ambassador Miranda Jones.

"Who's the bitch?"

Miranda half-smiled at the Chief's bluntness. "Captain Areel Shaw is an officer of the Starfleet Judge Advocate General. She is also…an old friend of Captain Kirk's."

Garibaldi whistled, impressed. "A JAG?" He then looked at Miranda quizzically. "An old friend, huh?"

Miranda thought of how much she could reveal without violating Kirk's and Areel's privacy. "Yes…. They were once romantically linked, but the relationship didn't work. They parted as friends."

"Uh-huh," said Garibaldi. If Areel once thought that Kirk was a good prospect for romance, what must she be feeling about Kirk's death at Jupiter? He nodded at Spock, Sulu and McCoy. "Doesn't look like it's the first time they've met Areel. Don't tell me they were all 'romantically linked.'"

Miranda chuckled quietly. But she didn't chuckle at Garibaldi's words. Rather, it was at his thoughts: If they were, she must have ridden cocks all the way to her current rank.

"No, Mr. Garibaldi. They were not. Almost thirty years ago, Captain Shaw was Starfleet's prosecutor in Captain Kirk's court-martial for the murder of a fellow officer."

The security chief winced. "Murder in the ranks, huh? Seeing how Kirk managed to stay in Starfleet, I'm guessing Kirk was found not guilty?"

"That's right. That 'murdered' officer was slightly mentally unstable, a Mr. Finney. The murder did not happen. Rather, he framed the captain and hid while the court-martial went on."

Worry came up on Garibaldi's face. It would seem that this 'Starfleet' was as full of insane adventures as Babylon 5. He hoped that this new visit didn't portend a doubling of that insanity on the space station. He turned to watch the interaction.

"Starfleet Command wants you—all of you—to come home," Areel was saying.

McCoy narrowed his eyes at the JAG officer. "If we agree, what will happen to us?"

"The crew of the Enterprise will be reassigned to other ships and posts throughout the Federation."

"If we don't agree?" queried Sulu.

It was Areel's turn to narrow her eyes. "A general court-martial for both crews. All of them."

McCoy squawked. "Court-martial! What the hell did we do?"

Areel Shaw was looking peeved and took an officious posture. "Violating Starfleet General Order One, also known as the Prime Directive, on numerous occasions."

Spock raised an eyebrow, sharing the others' surprise. "The circumstances were unique. We believed ourselves to be stranded and unable to return home."

Areel scoffed. "Giving away Federation technologies like the shields and transporter? Forcing non-aligned planets to band together and create a new united political entity? Ordering a Starfleet officer to command an alien military force? Engaging alien vessels in battle without making any attempt to make first contact and achieve a non-military resolution? Involvement in other wars that have no relation to the Federation whatsoever? Need I say more?" She shook her head wearily. "You're lucky I didn't invoke Starfleet Regulation 7, Paragraph 4."

The three men were silent. Starfleet Regulation 7, Paragraph 4: 'An officer must consider himself under arrest, unless in the presence of the most senior fellow officers presently available, the officers must give satisfactory answer to those charges….' If they caused Areel to invoke that rule and refuse to submit, the Federation could send more ships and officers to forcibly put them all under arrest. McCoy and Sulu were feeling resentful. They already submitted to one inquiry on Earth soon after saving that planet from the alien whale probe. McCoy was also feeling glad that Kirk wasn't here to hear this outrage.

Captain Areel Shaw nodded at Garibaldi, signaling her readiness to be escorted to quarters. "Like I said. If you agree to come home, there will be no general court-martial and everyone involved will be acquitted and reassigned."

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A doorchime sounded. Miranda Jones went to answer it. The ambassador pursed her lips. It was Areel Shaw.

"Come in."

The two women sat in a comfortable sofa. Miranda offered tea and coffee, both of which were refused.

Areel said, "Do you mind if I get personal with you?"

Miranda shook her head. So. This was how it would go: an uncomfortable small talk designed to verbally probe each other. Due to her powerful telepathy, she didn't need that. But she could play along with the probing game. "Go ahead."

"Do you miss Ambassador Kollos?"

Miranda stiffened. So. This was how it was going to go. Kollos was the Medusan ambassador with whom she was in love and mentally bonded with. His last gift to her was making it his dying wish for the Medusans to rejuvenate Miranda, giving her a longer life full of youth. She didn't resent that, exactly. She understood that Kollos wanted her to have the chance to experience love once more and to appreciate humanoid companionship once more.

"No, I don't."

Areel had a thin smile. "Lying, Ambassador? That seems…unseemly."

Miranda had an expression of mock surprise. "You call me an ambassador and yet, you don't seem to know that lying is an art in diplomacy. But then again, a court prosecutor wouldn't know that art."

Areel chuckled. "Touche. Though…. You couldn't leave Kollos. You didn't have the courage. I speak from experience."

"Somehow, I don't doubt that." In spite of Areel's rudeness in plumbing her for information about the late Kollos, something in Areel touched her. Was it Kirk? Miranda leaned forward on the sofa. "Staying with someone because they're helpless is one thing. Clinging to someone because you can't live alone, Areel…. That's different. Besides, what I felt for Kollos was love."

"Clinging. Do you think that's how Jim felt?"

"I didn't mean…."

Areel sighed. "I saw snow once. The nice thing about it—it soon covers everything."

Taking the hint, Miranda mentally withdrew into herself, turning off her telepathy. "Areel…. James couldn't give you the feeling that you wanted. He couldn't. I met him only once and for a short time, but from that time, I knew this."

Areel fell silent. Kirk had been friends with her ever since their relationship's failure. She didn't think that his death would hit her this hard and she regretted throwing her anger and frustrations at the men and at Miranda.

"You're not here on a social call, are you, Areel?"

"No," Areel said. "Do you want to go home?"

"I thought this was not a social call?"

"It's not. Indulge me."

Miranda studied Areel's face through the sonar scans made by her sensor net for a while. "I do want to go home. Home is home. But if you're asking me to actually go home to the Federation…. No."

Areel had a question mark on her face, and the sonar scans of Miranda's sensor net and telepathy transmitted the question to the ambassador.

"This universe has a great potential for depravity and darkness. At the same time, it has the potential to be great in nobility and beauty. I am, currently, the Federation's only diplomatic expert on this place. If I were you, I would urge the Federation to maintain my embassy here. As long as we can't close the quantum rift between the universes, that is vital. Especially if you've read the reports on the species here like the Shadows and the Vorlon Empire."

"Yes. Starfleet Command is inclined to agree. In spite of the…troubles the Earth Alliance seems to be having." Areel stood up and Miranda stood with her. The JAG officer took out a compadd and held it out to the ambassador. "Here. Just put your thumbprint here and your embassy is made official by the Federation Council."

Gratefully, Miranda pressed her thumb on the compadd. If the crews of the Enterprise and Excelsior either go back home or get court-martialed, she could continue her work here in the name of the Federation.

Imperial City, Centauri Prime

A Romulan man gazed out the window at the Palace Gardens. Some time ago, he had been sneaked through the quantum gate to be ambassador to the Centauri Republic for the Romulan Star Empire.

Ambassador d'Ry Mas appreciated the trust that the Imperial Senate was showing by appointing him to this post. In spite of the shocking decadence of the Centauri, he was enjoying himself. Yet, he was also comprehensive. He had never known such a capricious tyrant like Emperor Cartagia. The Centauri emperor brought to mind the historical lessons of the Ruling Queen T'Rehu. Soon after the Exile and Exodus, T'Rehu built up an army on Romulus and tried to get the people to follow her. When the Founder S'Task stood up to her for the second time, the warlord queen killed him and ruled Romulus and Remus for almost 20 years with tyranny and beneficence.

It was a good thing that Romulans had a horror of decadence and the tyranny of one person.

And Earth? Now Mas clenched his hands in anger. It wasn't fair. This universe didn't have a Qo'noS, Romulus, Vulcan or Tholia, yet it had Earth and humans! He wondered why. Did it have to do with humans being the first to find this universe? Ambassador Mas was trying to grasp at the reason, feeling himself inching closer to a truth. He turned away from the window, giving up on his thoughts. Better to leave such things to the theoretical sciences.

At least, there was no United Federation of Planets here. The Earth Alliance was primitive enough for the Romulans to handle, but it made almost every piece of Romulan propaganda about humanity true. Weak, incapable of appreciating loyalty, honor and duty, and treacherous. Mas smiled. The government back home would have a feastday exposing that to the peoples of the Star Empire!

Now it was up to d'Ry Mas to steer the capricious Cartagia into unleashing the Royal Navy against the Earth Alliance and remove a potential ally of the Federation. That only thing troubling his mission was the Klingons aiding and abetting the Narns. Mas scoffed. Barbarians in bed with other barbarians. It was only natural.

The doorchime called for his attention.

The new Romulan ambassador was not expecting any caller. The official state banquet was scheduled for tonight and he was sure it would degenerate into an orgy. The door opened on old-fashioned hinges, momentarily reminding him of the odd Centauri fondness and predilection for tradition. His cousin, Sub-Commander T'lees Mahdee Mas was standing in the door.

"Ambassador, someone requests an audience with you. He has the proper authorization."

Mas frowned. "Let him in."

"Yes, sir. And sir? He's human."

d'Ry Mas scowled. "Let him in. I trust you have been vigilant with him."

The Romulan guard bowed his head and moved out of his cousin's sight. The human entered the ambassador's luxurious suite in the Royal Palace. He was wearing an almost vapid, yet cloyingly friendly smile. He looked like a human businessman. Mas narrowed his eyes. The air that Morden was giving off wouldn't be out of place in an Orion slave market.

"Ambassador d'Ry Mas, I have only one question for you. What do you want?"

"I'm not sure I understand the question, Mr…?"

"Morden."

"Mr. Morden. Who did you say authorized this meeting?"

"I didn't," said Morden. He smiled at Mas' narrowed eyes. "It was Lord Antono Refa, Vocator in the Centaurum."

"And does he know what this is about?"

"No. But in order to see someone of your preeminence without violating your treaty of secret alliance with the Centauri Republic, I needed to get a recommendation. Refa provided it. You still haven't answered my question, Ambassador. What do you want?"

Mas was flustered. "What do you mean, what do I want?"

"What do you want?" Morden was still radiating polite friendliness with his smile.

"What do I want…? What do I—"

"What do you want?"

Mas didn't say his thoughts out loud. He wanted the human to choke on himself and reduce the human population of this universe by at least one man. "This is pointless. Go away and do not bother me anymore."

Morden considered that for a moment, smiled and nodded. He bowed and said, "As you say." He walked to the door.

"Wait!" d'Ry Mas studied the human man. Refa authorized this human? Rumors had been circulating in the Palace about that Centauri lord's ties to a mysterious and powerful alien ally. The Romulans had tried to discretely investigate the unknown alien vessels spotted on the island of Celini without success. Any agent sent there was never heard from again. Was this human connected to that ally somehow?

The ambassador was momentarily distracted by what he thought were sounds of quiet clicks and hisses of large insects in the room. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He wasn't alone with the human. Morden was definitely someone the Tal'Shiar needed to investigate. He decided to make a gamble.

"What do I want? The Romulan Empire is still sore about the humiliating defeat at Cheron. What I want is to erase that humiliation and restore the honor of my people."

"What do you want?"

Mas was getting annoyed and he allowed his feelings to guide his words. "To break the Federation! To free my people from the limitations of the Neutral Zone!"

"What do you want?"

"To tear down their starbases, darken their skies with the ships and flags of Romulus, to completely, utterly, remove the Federation as an obstacle!"

"And then what?"

Ambassador Mas was taken by surprise. "To realize our destiny, of course! I want all the races of my galaxy to be humbled before the Romulan Star Empire. I want my people to realize their right as the superior people to rule the galaxy and to inspire awe and terror in the very stars themselves!" Mas scornfully turned his back on Morden and poured himself a glass of iced jhala tea. "Does that answer your question?"

Mr. Morden smiled even wider and bowed. "I'm sure my associates will be pleased with your answer. I will see you again on another appropriate time."

Mas sipped at the cold beverage and turned to tell the human to not bother him again. He was surprised to find him gone. Even the strange subsonic insectoid chitter he had been hearing was gone.

He ran to the door, yanked it open and looked out around the hallway. His bodyguard, Mahdee Mas was puzzled at the ambassador's behavior. "Sir?"

"T'lees Mahdee," said d'Ry Mas carefully. "Did you see the human come out?"

Alarmed, Mahdee shook his head. "Shall I search your quarters?"

Mas said, "No. Thank you. I will search them myself." He went back in his suites and closed the door, muttering, "Where did he go? How will I find him?"

He nearly had a coronary when a disembodied voice, easily recognizable as belonging to Mr. Morden, said, "We will find you, Ambassador. We will find you."

As Mas calmed down, he made plans to contact the Imperial Fleet Command and Tal'Shiar about Mr. Morden. The Star Empire had never managed to create a personal cloaking device. Ambassador d'Ry Mas intended to have scanners ready the next time the human appeared.

Somewhere beyond Known Space

Galen gazed into the small crystal ball in held in his hands. It was showing the dimensional rift leading to the Federal Universe. A few starships of various shapes and sizes milled in front of the rift and beyond, but all were clearly Starfleet. Vree saucers also moved among the Federation starships, attending to the construction of a new jumpgate some distance away from the rift.

A cloaked man stood in the doorway of Galen's room in the Tower of the One Above All. "Galen…. Galen. The Circle requires your presence."

"I'm busy."

"They know of your activities. You will come to them…or they will come to you. Either way, you will be called to account."

Galen sighed, still looking at the crystal ball. "We are all called to account, sooner or later. To whom am I supposed to explain my behavior?"

"To everyone involved."

"Everyone? It must be a very large room."

"Galen."

"All right, all right. Show me the way."

The cloaked man stepped aside and a path of stars appeared on the ground, showing the way. Galen looked down the path, still holding the crystal ball. "The long road. But then, it's always the long road, isn't it? And you…." He looked back to the crystal ball at the Federation starships gathered at the dimensional rift. "You may be called to account sooner than you imagined."

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Galen was now standing before a group of cloaked and hooded technomages standing in a circle around a pedestal supporting a large crystal ball. Opposite Galen was the One Above All, Jamis, sitting in his throne. Standing at Jamis' right hand was Galen's mentor, Elric.

"It's a mistake," Elric was saying. He sounded disappointed. "You shouldn't have gone out there. Bad enough you've been sending probes outside, sending signals that could be traced back to us, but this? You're endangering all of us."

Another technomage spoke with a feminine voice. That, of course, didn't have to mean a female person. Any technomage could choose the voice desired. Even so, Galen recognized the technomage. Tamyrlin. "We agreed to have no contact with the outside."

Galen stood straighter. "And if our silence means the death of billions?"

Elric said, "There is a reason for our isolation. The Shadows are moving in the night outside and war is raging. We left that to keep our secrets from falling into the wrong hands."

"It's different now! The stakes are much higher now. Inaction would allow the Darkness to spread and dim the whole galaxy. We can no longer afford to keep running. We cannot depart this galaxy. The veil has not parted yet. If we choose to flee to the other universe, we cannot depart that galaxy either. I understand there is an energy barrier preventing escape into the intergalactic void."

"Perhaps that is so," said Elric. "These are insane times. We are forbidden any direct involvement. And yet, you have informed outsiders of the Ancient outpost on Earth. You have lent the power of your ship to Captain Kirk to kill a Shadow vessel. You have helped the Newcomers understand the properties of hyperspace. What are these but direct involvements? You risk exposing us to the universe."

Galen held his head forward to allow the shade of his hood to hide his eyes glaring at the other technomages. "If I had followed the non-interference directive, Earth would have been lost. An almost irresistible biomechanical hive-mind would have used the power and technology of Z'ha'dum to replace both the Darkness and Light with the Grayness of unreal existence."

Jamis, the One Above All and the High Seat of the Technomages, sedately raised a hand. "Brother Galen." Humor softened the High Seat's words as he spoke. "We may not be as stuck in our ways as you seem to think. Still, we cannot afford involving ourselves in the war outside."

Galen bowed to Jamis. Not even he would be foolish enough to defy the One Above All. "We all have an inkling of what is at stake. Yes, we must protect ourselves but we cannot do so by abandoning those we left behind."

Jamis sighed tremulously. "We will allow you to continue. A warning, Brother. If your actions compromise our hiding places and places of power, if we risk death because of your action, understand that you will be the first to die."

Galen bowed once more, gratefully, as a flash of lightning and a crash of thunder swept through the chamber in the Tower. He was now alone there with Jamis. He wondered whether the High Seat had caused the other technomages to leave or they had voluntarily left or they were still here but allowing them the illusion of privacy. It didn't matter anyway.

Jamis leaned forward in his throne, looking sympathetic. "One more thing, Brother Galen. Fear makes wise men foolish. In your case, I can only hope it makes fools wise."

Jamis dissolved in flames. Galen was now as alone as he could be in the Tower.

Babylon 5

Sheridan and Garibaldi were watching ISN on a wall monitor in the captain's office. "…and to confirm earlier reports, President Clark has refused to rescind the decree of martial law throughout Earth Central, citing continued threats to planetary security in spite of a major EarthForce victory at Jupiter against the as-yet unknown alien invaders. He's expected to provide information to support this decision at a closed meeting of the full Earth Senate tomorrow. In related news, in the Vatican, Pope Joan II urged calm for the citizens of Earth but criticized President Clark—"

"Off!" ordered Sheridan, disgusted. "A major victory for EarthForce, my ass!"

Garibaldi shrugged. "Welcome to the universe where no good deed goes unpunished."

The station commander shook his head wearily. "I don't like where this is going, Mike. I don't like this at all. If the President keeps the martial law going, the Senate wouldn't like it. At least he hasn't expanded the martial law to other colonies."

"Yet, you mean," said Garibaldi.

Sheridan shot him a dirty look. "I thought you're not Russian?"

Garibaldi chuckled, then wore a worried expression. "They haven't mentioned the Enterprise. I would have thought Clark would harp on that for all it's worth."

"I don't know. You got a point there. Maybe they're still sweeping the debris for bits of technology?" Sheridan shook his head. "Why me? Why?"

The Italian man shrugged again. "Remember Ivanova's Law. 'When things are bad, they CAN get worse!'"

Sheridan rolled his eyes. "Like I need to hear that."

A noise came from the office's entrance and the two men turned to see what it was. Captain Areel Shaw entered, looking expectant.

"Captain Shaw…?" Sheridan wasn't expecting her.

"Captain." Areel nodded her greeting. "I was told to be here and that it was…urgent."

Garibaldi crossed his arms, looking suspicious. "Who told ya?"

"I did."

They turned around to see Delenn coming from the entrance.

Sheridan's face brightened. "Delenn! I thought you were…at—at Wolf 359!"

Gladness creased Delenn's face. "I was not there, as you can see, John. I was attending to a certain…matter in Minbari space." Her face clouded as she turned to Areel. "I have received a report from the Rangers. Captain James Kirk is alive."

"Alive!" exclaimed a surprised Areel. "But…the ship…. It was destroyed before he could be transported!"

Delenn stole a glance at Sheridan. She was guiltily glad that Sheridan wasn't captured. "Captain Kirk was captured by a group of EarthForce boarders and taken in a heavily armored breaching pod when the Enterprise self-destructed."

"This changes everything!" said Areel. "I must inform Starfleet of this! Where is he? Where?"

The Minbari ambassador's eyes dropped to the floor. "He is being held on Mars."

Mars

James Tiberius Kirk was sitting in a chair and cuffed to it. His face was bruised and bloodied, and his white Starfleet captain's turtleneck shirt was torn and stained in place with the same color as the Starfleet tunic confiscated by his captors. He leaned down to his cuffed hands as far as he could, wincing from the aches. He felt for the metal collar around his neck and tried once more to wrench it off. An electrical charge hummed in the collar and he screamed before falling unconscious.

Babylon 5

Captains Spock, Sulu and Scott, and Dr. McCoy were gathered in Sheridan's office. Areel Shaw took a posture of officiousness, which had caused Garibaldi to wryly think before leaving them alone in the office. 'If she was an Earther, she would be working in President Santiago's office.'

"Gentlemen, as you know, Captain Kirk is alive and a prisoner on Mars. I am hereby modifying my offer to you accordingly—"

Scotty interrupted. "Ya mean we get to stay and rescue the Capt'n?"

Areel's face clouded with great patience. "No. Stay and all of you will stand in a general court-martial. Starfleet will send negotiators to the Earth Alliance for the release of Captain Kirk."

McCoy scoffed loudly and said, "Hell, you know as well as we do that the man calling himself President is a thug! He will lie through his teeth about how he's so sorry that Kirk is really not alive after all, how he's been shot while resisting arrest or escaping, how your information was wrong all along and Jim was really on the Enterprise when it blew! And—!"

"Doctor McCoy, you forget yourself!"

McCoy fell silent at the vehemence in Areel. If she reflected feelings in Starfleet Command, he wouldn't want to be in the Judge Advocate General's office itself.

Areel brought her breathing back down to normal and said, "Now. My offer is this: You go back home and allow yourselves reassigned to other posts and all members of your crews will be acquitted without an inquiry. And Starfleet will mount a direct rescue of Captain Kirk."

Spock raised an eyebrow, "Captain Shaw, I am curious. What will be the nature of the…'direct rescue' and the reassignments?"

Areel went down the line of Starfleet officers, handing each a compadd. "Each of you will be reassigned to specific posts suiting your merit. Most of you were supposed to retire some time ago when the Enterprise should have come to Earth Spacedock. As it is, the terms are generous. Dr. McCoy will be transferred to Starfleet Medical. Captain Scott will head the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. Captain Spock will have the choice of either remaining in Starfleet and be promoted to Admiral or become an ambassador with an honorary title of Admiral. He would be ambassador for the Federation to Romulus."

Scott looked inclined to protest loudly while Spock's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Before the Chief Engineer could anger Areel, Spock said, "Romulus? Have we opened a dialogue with the Romulan Empire?"

Areel glanced at the office windows with embarrassment. "Ah…kind of. Tension with the Romulans is escalating and diplomatic channels are chock full of talk. If we don't do something…war is possible."

The Starfleeters stared at Areel silently. War. Was it really so long ago that they came from Khitomer euphoric over the new peace and alliance with the Klingon Imperial Empire?

Areel continued speaking. "The rescue effort will be based on plans drawn up by Colonel West for the rescue of Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy from Qo'noS."

"My God!" exclaimed McCoy. "Starfleet must be mad! Jim is on Mars in this universe, not the Klingon homeworld, for God's sake!"

"Doctor, Starfleet Command believes and agrees that Operation Retrieve can be modified for conditions in this universe. This is where Captain Sulu comes in. The Excelsior will be the vessel with the tactical superiority, so it will lead the fleet."

Sulu looked dubiously at the compadd given by Areel. "This is…daring to say the least, Captain. We'd be lucky if the Earth Alliance doesn't declare war on the Federation over this."

Areel stepped up to the office window overlooking the garden of Babylon 5. "We are confident that we can pull this off with minimal acceptable loss of equipment and manpower."

Scotty said, "Request to transfer myself to the Excelsior's crew immediately."

"Request denied," said Areel curtly without even looking back. She then turned to face the men once more. "So, gentlemen? What do you say?"

The men exchanged uneasy looks, eyes heavy with indecision.

xxxxxxxx

An attractive blonde woman stepped out of the line coming out of Customs, looking exasperated at the crowd. Spotting John Sheridan, she hefted her briefcase and rushed over to him.

"Captain Sheridan? Julie Musante, Ministry of Peace. Thank you for meeting me."

Sheridan guardedly shook hands with Julie. "Nice meeting you, Ms. Musante. If I had known you were coming…."

Julie smiled brightly. "That's quite all right, John. I can call you John? Thanks! Do you think my bags can be taken to some appropriate quarters? I'll be here for a while."

Sheridan frowned. "I'm…not sure what's your purpose here."

Julie laughed softly. "Of course, John. The Ministry of Peace, the NightWatch Division, has assigned me here under the direct authority of the Babylon 5 Senate Oversight Committee, and the President, of course." She beamed at Sheridan with a big smile. "I'm to be your new political officer!"

Sheridan blinked at Julie as he walked with her. Aw hell! The Earth martial law, through Julie Musante, was about to get uncomfortably close. Things were about to get worse for him.

The Apostolic Palace, Vatican City, Earth

Pope Joan II was in bed, reading official documents. She needed to get in contact with the Martian Provisional Governor Xavier Montoya about the President's martial law. She had been silent ever since Clark was sworn in office, and felt that it was time for her to speak up against him before it was too late. She didn't want posterity to see her as another Pius XII, also known as Hitler's Pope.

She sighed and put down the papers on her lap. She sipped coffee generously provided by Cardinal Paolo Pacelli from a delicate porcelain cup, looking at the Renaissance mural on a wall in her bedchamber. It showed a beautiful young woman with beautiful blonde tresses. The woman was supposed to be a saint, but Joan thought it more likely that she was the infamous Lucrezia Borgia. Joan glanced at the little bedside clock. She hoped that Cardinal Zhou Kiang would arrive sooner than later.

At that moment, Cardinal Zhou, a native of China and the Vatican Prelate of Mars, was walking up the wide monumental winding stairs in the Apostolic Palace. He expected his secret night meeting with Pope Joan II to be about his status as a papabile, a potential candidate for the next papacy. He crossed himself against the thought of Joan's untimely death.

EarthDome, Geneva, Earth

President Morgan Clark stood at the windows of his office, watching the EarthForce Elite Guard move into position around the Palace of Nations where the Earth Senate met and had offices. He had just issued an Executive Order dissolving the Senate. The fools. They had virtually and very loudly kicked him off the Senate floor over his refusal to rescind the martial law decree now that the Borg threat was over. He wasn't about to let the stupid senators drag him before the Senate Investigative Committee, not when Earth was beset with dangerous aliens. If only they knew….

Apostolic Palace

Cardinal Zhou Kiang continued to walk up the marble stairs, ignoring the old works of arts partially hidden in the darkness. Why couldn't the Vatican modernize the Palace with an elevator useable by everyone? Sure, there's the centuries-old elevator installed for invalid popes and cardinals long ago, but it was not for general use. Besides, he was sure that the age of it made it unsafe.

He was surprised by someone in the shadows. A flash of a pure white dress was all he saw when he was pushed over the stair balustrade and fell, his red silk cardinal's robes fluttering before he met the marble floor far below with a sickening thump.

Sister Vicenza, the Pope's housekeeper, held up an electric lamp fashioned to emulate a Renaissance lamp as she walked down the palace corridor. The brilliantly painted murals and statues danced in the light. The nun came upon the door to the Papal bedchamber. She could see light shining from under the door, so she knocked softly. "Papisa? Madre?"

Hearing no response, Sister Vicenza concluded that the Pope was sleeping. She came in to turn out the light quietly and halted in her tracks, her face turning white. Joan II was lying in bed, her face frozen in a rictus of agony, eyes staring blankly. A tiny porcelain cup lay broken on the floor, the colored marble stained with spilt coffee.

Vicenza ran down the corridor of the Apostolic Palace, screaming, "Il Papisa è morta! Mortiii! Jesu Cristu! La Madre Sacra è mortaaaa!"

EarthDome

President Clark was still standing at the windows. The Chief of Staff, Bill Harris, had just told him that half the senators were on the run, while some were caught and arrested. Others were still in their offices, refusing to leave. Fools. Some of them even desperately called in every favor they could, trying to get the military. He smiled. That had failed, showing that EarthForce agreed with him completely. Traitors.

The flash and noise of explosions and gunfire came. Ah good. The Elite Guard is finally forcing an end to the siege on the Palace of Nations.

A door opened in his office behind Clark. It was Cardinal Paolo Pacelli resplendent in his red silk robe, white lace over-robe, and red short elbow-length cape.

"Mr. President…. The Holy Mother, Pope Joan II, is dead. God rest her soul."

Clark said, "I see. I assume you will call for a conclave of the College of Cardinals for the election."

Paolo nodded, ignoring the firefight in the street outside. Holy men like him were above such mundane worldly matters. "Yes. When the Holy Conclave finally comes out of the Sistine Chapel, you will know me as…Pius XIII."

President Clark smiled as the flash of explosions lit his shaded face from the windows. It was all coming together for him.