Chapter 4 - Crumbling Structures

Hyperspace, just beyond the Cooke system, Exodus Fleet - September, 2248

The small conference room near the shuttle bay was already crowded when John Sheridan came in. Looking around at the assembled Captains (none of whom, besides himself, actually held the rank), he wondered again what madness would have caused General Lefcourt to call an in person meeting in the middle of a hyperspace transit, while they were all doing their best to tamp down on all of the myriad problems which were continually arising, while also keeping the fleet moving forward at top speed. They were running for their lives, after all. There had, as yet, been no sign of Minbari pursuit, but they couldn't count on that to continue. What could possibly be so important that it couldn't be handled via comm? Having them all gathered here aboard the Midway invited disaster.

And where the hell was Lefcourt anyway? The man had called this assembly. The least he could do was not be late to his own meeting.

As John found his seat, Commander Sinclair stood up. "We're all here now, so we can begin."

John broke in with annoyance, "We're still missing the General. Isn't he coming?"

"I'm afraid the General won't be coming," Garibaldi interrupted. "Jeff will be running the meeting."

As all eyes swiveled back to Sinclair, he cleared his throat. "I know you are all busy, so I will try to be brief. But this information is both critical and highly sensitive." He paused, and then held up a remote. "There's no gentle way to do this." He hit a button on the remote, and the large display dominating the wall behind him lit up. There was a collective gasp from the room as the gruesome image now displayed registered on the occupants. "Just over seven standard hours ago, just after we completed our exit from Cooke, General Lefcourt took his own life."

Silence reigned. In a larger group, John would have expected side conversations to break out as people couldn't stop themselves from speculating about what had happened, and what would happen next. This group, however, held itself in stony silence, staring with cold eyes at Sinclair.

Jeff cleared his throat uncomfortably. "We hadn't really had time to plan for this contingency, but Earth Force has standard protocols. I don't see why we wouldn't follow the book as usual. That having been said, I have already made the preparations to transfer General Lefcourt's command codes to Captain Sheridan, so that he may assume overall command. We must next discuss…"

Lochley broke in, interrupting Sinclair's point. "And why would we do that, Commander?"

"Commander?" Jeff asked in confusion. "Because protocol dictates that command should pass to either the highest ranking officer, or barring that the designated Senior Captain. In both cases this is Captain Sheridan. Command protocol is clear…"

"I can't agree, Commander, "Lochley broke in again. Turning to look at Sheridan, she continued, "No offense, John, but the only reason for either your rank or your designated position was because you got lucky against the Minbari and made a name for yourself." Holding up her hands to forestall any angry response, she added, "Now don't get me wrong, it was a brilliant move, for a desperation play. But we both know there were a million ways it could have gone wrong, and some of our data indicates that it shouldn't have worked at all, that Sharlins should be more than tough enough to take the damage those nukes delivered at that range, that something else must have been going on. I've heard arguments that the Minbari must have made a mistake, something like Beatty's Battlecruisers at the Battle of Jutland leaving their safety doors open, with cordite stocked in the halls. Damage that should normally have been inconsequential leading to catastrophic destruction.

"I'm not trying to take anything away from you, John. It really was a brilliant move. But we are talking about taking command of what may be all that is left of humanity. That leaves no room for mistakes, and having been married to you, I know that you can be more than a little impulsive."

Sheridan grimaced, then asked sarcastically, "You thought I might find that offensive, Liz? Whatever for?"

Sinclair cut in, "Did you have an alternate suggestion, Commander Lochley?"

Elizabeth frowned. "I don't know. I just don't think we should transfer command to John. Remember what General Lefcourt said? The Nova would almost certainly be thrown away the first time we got into a real fight with the Minbari. We can't afford to transfer command more than once."

Garibaldi looked thoughtful as he said, "We could transfer Captain Sheridan to the Midway. Transfer Captains around, or promote someone to fill his position."

Sheridan finally spoke up. "Absolutely not. The crews are too green, under too much stress, and the situation is too chaotic. We simply cannot afford to shake up the command staff any more than we absolutely have to."

Commander Levitt spoke up. "There are a number of historical precedents of alternative methods for selecting a Commanding Officer in an emergency: Flag Captain, most experienced Flag Officer, or direct assignment by Civilian Command Authority all come to mind."

Bester broke in, "Most experienced? Well...clearly I have the most life experience of anyone in this room. I'd be happy to take command."

Garibaldi snorted. "In your dreams, Mr. Bester."

"It's Commander Bester, Lieutenant Commander Garibaldi. Please, we're all on the same side. Besides, what's the other alternative. Flag Captain?"

All eyes slid to Gideon, who blushed and said defensively, "I wouldn't be the worst choice."

Bester continued with a smile, ignoring Gideon's statement, "And as you know, Civilian Command Authority was left behind on Earth, if it even still exists at all at this point. Our charter places the fleet under martial law until we have found safe haven, so there IS no Civilian Command Authority."

Garibaldi barked back, "The suggestion was for the Flag Officer with the most experience being a Flag Officer."

Lochley broke in, "But that just swings the nomination back to John, which I still can't agree with. Perhaps we should consider command via this, what we are doing right now; a Council of Captains."

"This isn't a democracy," Sheridan snapped. "You can't run a military force via committee! We'd be overrun while we squabble about what to do about it."

"Look," she replied, "Everyone here acknowledges your skill at fighting the Minbari. I propose that in any combat situation, we all respect your rank and defer to your command. Beyond that, each of our ships generally has it's own role to play. Each of us, then, will take full authority of our own vessels and of the role that vessel plays. But, when it comes to fleet wide decisions like destination and diplomacy then, until we can resolve the question of command, we make decisions as a council."

Sheridan growled, "That's ridiculous. The command progression is clear. What you are trying to pull here, Liz, is frankly mutiny."

Garibaldi put up his hands, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Let's take a step back here, folks. We can't afford to put ourselves in the position of fighting each other. Too much is riding on our making this work!"

"Got any suggestions, Michael?" Sinclair asked.

"Well, since people seem to want to turn the military into a democracy, how about we take a vote? If enough of us back Sheridan, then the point is moot, he'll take every vote anyway. So, why don't we take a vote on passing command to Captain Sheridan? Maybe elect him Super Admiral or something? All those if favor?" he asked raising his hand. Sheridan and Sinclair both raised their hands.

"Opposed?" barked Lochley, and she, Bester, and Levitt raised their hands. All eyes turned towards Gideon.

"I choose to withhold my vote at this time, due to lack of sufficient information," Gideon stated defensively.

Lochley looked around the assembled officers. "Then the motion fails. Sorry, John. But, since we have already taken a vote, we clearly now have a functioning democracy. Or rather, a Republic, since we are the only ones who get a vote. Thank you for making that official, Lieutenant Commander," she said, nodding at Garibaldi, who scowled at the way he had been out maneuvered.

Sinclair cleared his throat. "That having been settled for the time being, before we disperse we need to decide a couple more things. First off, there is the question of our intended course. Lefcourt was considering three destinations. Heading coreward for former Dilgar space or Orieni space, or heading rimward and moving past the Ch'lona and Koulani into uncharted space. We are already headed coreward, as the General did not favor the last option."

Gideon spoke up, "I wouldn't want to head into completely unchartered space, where we would be slowed to a crawl, with two hostile powers at our backs and the Minbari not all that far off." When his statement drew nods from the assembled, he continued, "Perhaps we could just continue coreward for now, at least until we get out of Earth Alliance space, and then decide between the final two choices at that time."

Sinclair piped in, "Seems like a good idea to me. So moved. All in favor?" The vote was unanimous. "So decided. Finally, we need to decide whether or not to release the news of the General's passing."

"You mean the fact that he blew his own brains out?" quipped Lochley. "No. Even I can see that the news would only cause chaos in the fleet. Despite what I just did, we can't afford to have the civilians questioning our authority, or demanding a role in the decision making process. We need to keep up a pretense that the General is alive, but just too busy to be contacted. At least for now."

Sheridan looked ready to make a caustic remark, but Sinclair cut him off. "All in favor?" Every hand went up. "Then the motion passes."

And with that, the first Council of Captains adjourned.

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Dr. Stephen Franklin sat in one of the Olympic's many cafeterias, and finished up a surprisingly tasty plate of Swedish meatballs. The seven other doctors sharing the table with him also ate their meals, but mostly in a somewhat strained silence. They were all from Mars, hospital and clinic administrators and head physicians, and had been given no choice in being brought aboard. Stephen was trying to get their help in organizing the medical workers from Mars, so that they might be a productive addition to the fleet. However, they were less than enthusiastic. Dr. Amal Torres had asked him flatly why she should lift a finger to aide kidnappers and captors, who had left the people who depended upon them behind to die.

While the conversation had indeed been tense, Stephen had slowly gotten them to see that he was only asking them to fulfill their oaths, to serve the citizens of Mars and humanity in general, and giving them something to do with the rest of their lives. He very definitely did NOT mention the fact that he had been given the authority to cut off their food stipend if they did not comply. He felt such heavy handed tactics were beneath him, and would certainly not gain him the respect of these people. The fact that he was the youngest person at the table certainly didn't help either. Besides, he knew he could get them to come around, and offering the carrot rather than the stick would make future interactions much more productive. By the time they were finished eating, they had agreed to at least facilitate the organization of the medical staff pulled from Mars. It was a start, and Stephen was confident everything else would fall into place moving forward.

He was shaking the hands of the other physicians, and wishing them well, when he heard the commotion break out at the front of the room. A man was standing at the counter, one arm in a sling, and angrily demanding, "Just give us some food!"

The outburst drew the eyes of many of the diners, and caused grumbling in the long line of people waiting their turn for food. None of this appeared to register with the worker taking payment at the head of the line. "Look, you piece of Mars trash, no food chit, no food! Now why don't you get the hell out of here, so decent folks can eat in peace?"

"We never got any food chits, you bigot! What are we supposed to do, starve? Did you just kidnap us to watch us die?"

Stephen made eye contact with the nervous looking physicians, apologized, and said, "Please excuse me. I'm going to try to resolve this." He then walked towards the altercation, surreptitiously activating his comm unit and contacting security. "Send a couple of officers to Cafeteria 10, forward sector. I think we may have trouble brewing." He hurried his steps, hoping to head off trouble.

"...it's all a damned plot by you Earthers to kill off all Mars citizens!"

And that damned cafeteria worker wasn't helping things at all. "You know, now that you mention it, that does sound like a great idea."

Franklin saw someone on the far side of the Marsie reach around him and tug at his shoulder, and a voice say, "Come on, Gary. Let's just get out of here. I'm sure we'll be issued food chits once we check in properly."

Good advice, Franklin thought, hoping the man would take it. Instead, he shrugged off the arm angrily, and turned to the crowd, shouting, "They won't feed Mars citizens! They're trying to starve us!"

The words electrified the room. A lot of those in line seemed to be from Mars, and they pushed forward, shouting angrily. Others throughout the room also became agitated, and he heard more than one person shout out, "Sit down, you Mars scum!" or, "then starve, Marsie!"

Franklin finally got there, and planted himself between the cafeteria worker and the Marsie. He raised his hands and shouted, "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Everybody just calm down." This seemed to cause the commotion in the room to die down a bit, and he pressed forward hopefully. Looking the man from Mars directly in the eye, he said, "Sir, no one is going to starve. I'm sure this is all just a misunderstanding. I'm don't know why you weren't checked in a week ago, but things have been pretty chaotic. They just started enforcing the food chit policy, so I'm sure there are probably quite a few people in the same position you are. Why don't you let me cover your meal, and afterwards I can help you get checked in and issued the proper food chits."

He smiled at the man, and glanced to his right, which was a huge mistake. Standing next to the man was the single most enchanting creature he had ever seen. Tall, blonde, and beautiful, she was as close to perfection as Stephen could imagine. Even the incongruous shiner, purpling her right eye and just starting to fade, didn't really detract from her allure. Stephan had always believed the phrase "took my breath away" to be no more than a metaphor. It was therefore with some surprise that he found he had to force himself to take a breath. Giving the beauty a large, goofy grin, he finally remembered where he was and turned his smile back to the man...just in time to see the man's left fist, his right arm being in a sling, smashing into his jaw.

Franklin's vision went blurry as his head snapped back, and he felt himself falling backwards. He thought he heard the blonde shout, "Gary!" and some sort of swelling roar from the room around him. And then the back of his head smacked into the corner of the food counter, and his vision tunneled down to a point.

The next thing he knew, he felt himself being dragged across the floor. He had a hard time opening his eyes, and an even harder time getting his thoughts together. Looking around, he saw the entire room engulfed in a surging brawl, with tables and chairs and food stuffs being used as weapons and shields. He heard himself giggle and say, "Food fight," and then resume giggling. He bumped up against a wall and the dragging sensation stop. The person who had been dragging him suddenly loomed over him. It was the blonde. Some deeply buried part of his psyche was mortified to hear himself say, "Yer pretty," and then resume giggling.

She seemed to ignore the comment, instead saying, "You're not doing well, Officer. There's a lot of blood coming out of your head. You need a doctor."

That sent him into a fresh bout of giggling, until he managed to gasp out, "Am a doctor...prolly fine...scalp wounds...bleed lots blood." From the look on her face, that didn't seem to reassure her at all. He just smiled up at her happily. And then security stormed to room.

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Sirius system, Exodus Fleet - September, 2248

The Sirius jumpgate activated and began disgorging civilian ships. Almost simultaneously, four additional jump points blossomed, each separated from the others by a safe margin. From the new jump points exited the Midway, Eratosthenes, Nova, and Mother, each followed by it's own bevy of civilian craft. The Lexington would be the final ship to enter the system, guarding their tail in hyperspace.

Captain John Sheridan looked over at his First Officer, Lieutenant Commander Laurel Takashima. "Open comms to the local System Governor."

"Governor Frederic Rozz is already messaging us, Captain." Takashima said with some surprise. The signal is coming from the Sirius Transfer Station.

"Hmmm. Transfer com to my station." At the LC's nod, he hit a button, and the face of a rather large and florid man appeared on his screen. "Gov…" Sheridan began, but was cut off as the Governor Rozz spoke right over the top of him.

"Thank God! Where have you been! Our defensive garrison was stripped away weeks ago. We've been seeing signs of the Minbari for nearly that entire time. They could be here any minute! Admiral, you are to take your fleet and immediately assume a defensive stance above the colony! Then please arrange transport for me back to Earth. I must...consult...with Earth Dome. I will require a military escort, of course.

Sheridan held back a sigh. "This is Captain John Sheridan. I'm sorry, Governor, but this is not a relief fleet. It is an evacuation fleet. I am sorry to advise you that Earth has fallen."

"Impossible!"

Sheridan overrode the man, wanting to get the distasteful task over as quickly as possible. "Governor, we will not be staying. We have some room on board our vessels. If you would please, order an evacuation of the Mining Outpost and Transfer station. All space capable vessels should join the fleet, and anyone who does not fit can be transferred to our civilian vessels. We need to hurry if the Minbari are indeed close."

"Never! You want me to flee into space on some barge? Give up my colony? I was assigned this colony. It's important. It cannot be allowed to fall to the enemy!" His beady eyes shifted around, as though seeking out some new angle to play. "You said Earth had fallen? Then Civilian Command Authority must shift to me, as a duly appointed member of the Executive. I hereby order you to immediately take up a defensive position around my colony!"

Sheridan bit back a curse. "I'm sorry, Governor, but my orders come directly from the President and Earth Dome. This fleet is under Martial Law, under the authority of General Lefcourt."

Rozz jumped at the name, "I demand to speak to the General immediately. I won't be dictated to by some jumped up Lieutenant with delusions of godhood. If Earth is gone then I hold the full authority of the Executive in this system! Put me through to Lefcourt now, or I will have your Court Martialed!"

Sheridan hit a button, disconnecting the Governor's comm signal. He then sent a comm to the Midway. There were three members of the Captains Council there. If he could get their agreement he could proceed, and do so without making it look to the crew like he was taking a damned vote.

"Sinclair here," came the voice from the screen.

"Commander Sinclair. I don't suppose you were listening to our communication with the Governor."

"I was. The man is clearly off his rocker."

"I'm planning to go around the man. Any thoughts?"

"You don't think we should send in troops and remove the obstacle?" Sinclair didn't even hesitate at the suggestion of removing the civilian authority, which only proved how serious the situation had gotten.

"I don't think we can afford the time. Governor Rozz mentioned signs of the Minbari. He's probably just jumping at shadows, but if there is any possibility it is true, we cannot allow the fleet to be caught here. We should take the bulk of the fleet back into hyperspace, while I give those civilians with the means a chance to join us."

Sheridan could tell that Sinclair knew he was being asked for support. The Commander made eye contact with someone off screen, and then said, "Gideon and Garibaldi said to give 'em hell." That meant four of the Captains supported his plan, and he could proceed.

He allowed the others to get the fleet moving again. He had his own work to do. "Takashima, open a general broadcast to the entire system." At her nod, he spoke to every civilian in the Sirius system. "This is Captain John Sheridan. The fleet currently inhabiting the Sirius system is an evacuation fleet. Earth has fallen. Please load up any and all space capable vessels to maximum occupancy, and come and join the fleet. We have the supplies to maintain our population for at least a year. We are heading out into space, looking for refuge. We will remain in system for the next several hours, to give anyone who can an opportunity to join us. That is all."

He disconnected to comm, and silence reigned on the bridge. Takashima cleared her throat. "Captain, that's...that's going to cause some serious problem on the colony. We're likely to see riots to make what happened on Mars seem tame."

"I know, Laurel," Sheridan said softly, "but Rozz pretty much tied our hands."

"Shouldn't…" She hesitated, then continued cautiously. "Shouldn't that be General Lefcourt's decision?"

"He left this one in my hands," Sheridan said stiffly. Takashima nodded in acquiescence, but Sheridan continued, "One more thing, Lieutenant Commander."

"Yes, sir?"

"Make sure Governor Rozz isn't on any of the ships which join the fleet."

And with that they watched as the system devolved into chaos.

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"Well, Zack old boy, you ready for this?" Garibaldi asked his new deputy, grabbing a tray of warm food and a glass of water off of the table. He motioned Zack to follow him, and then walked down corridor of the security office, to the detention center.

"You wanna be good cop or bad cop, boss?"

"Zack, I just hired you, and you already think you can play good cop, bad cop with me? Pfft. Yeah. Just sit quietly and look serious." With that he punched a passcode into the door of one of the cells and stepped through, Zack following him in. "Thought you might be hungry," he called out to the occupant, setting the tray and glass on the small table in the center of the cell. Three chairs had been placed around the table, and Garibaldi sank into one of them, and Zack took the other next to him, leaving the final chair on the opposite side of the table from them.

The sole occupant of the cell rose slowly to her feet. "Thanks, I am hungry, since you've had me locked up in here for at least a day with nothing but water. But I'd rather just get out of here."

"You're not going anywhere yet. I apologize for the lack of food. My team's new, and they haven't quite figured out all of their duties yet. Eat up, while it's still warm," he said, motioning to the plate.

"I haven't done anything!"

"Miss Holloran, you were caught in the middle of a Marsie riot, instigated by allegations of attempted genocide by starvation of the people of Mars. Allegations made by a man who has been definitively linked to you. The exact nature of that link is as yet unknown, but seems to reside somewhere between wife and girlfriend. This man has also been definitively identified as having assaulted an Earth Force officer in the process of doing his duty to quell said allegations."

Tessa sighed and sat down, taking the cover off of the food and beginning to eat.

"There you go," he said with a small smile. He waited for a few moment while she ate, and then asked, "So, care to tell us your role in the riot?"

She swallowed and replied, "Look, all I did was drag Officer Doctor out of harm's way, then flag down security because he was bleeding like a stuck pig."

"Officer Doctor?"

"I never caught his name."

"Ahhh. It's Franklin. Stephen Franklin. Lieutenant Commander in Earth Force, and Chief Medical Officer for this whole cockamamie fleet."

"Well, I was concerned that Lieutenant Franklin…"

"Lieutenant Commander," he interrupted her.

"...that Lieutenant Commander Franklin might be seriously injured. He just tried to do the right thing, and didn't deserve that. And I didn't know Gary was going to start a riot. I tried to stop him to, but clearly wasn't very successful."

"And why should I believe your story miss Holloran?"

"Because it's the truth? Or how about because I saw at least a half dozen security cameras in that place, and you've probably got the whole thing from four different angles.

"Five actually," he said pulling out a thick file and flipping through some paperwork in it. "I've been checking your records. No major criminal infractions. A couple of run-ins with the laws for the kind of stuff kids get into, but you were able to talk your way out of those. Your father was a cop, and your family name is somewhat prominent on Mars. Makes you a bit of a princess, doesn't it? Being ripped away from your home and your own personal kingdom, that's enough to make someone bitter, maybe try to make trouble for the local authority."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I knew your old man. He was a bit rough around the edges, but honest cops always are. He wouldn't be happy to see you sitting here."

"You don't know anything about my father."

"I know he paid for you to go to that fancy school, where you met Boy Wonder and had those run-ins with the local cops. Was he happy about that?"

"No," she ground out angrily.

"You know what, maybe you're not striking out at the people who abducted you. Maybe you're still just rebelling against Daddy."

Tessa sat up straight in her chair, her meal forgotten. "Do you have anything productive to ask, Officer?"

"It says here you spent two summers interning in your father's precinct, where you were trained in firearms usage, and scored quite high on the local range. Is that correct?"

"Yes," she said cautiously, uncertain where this line of questioning was going.

"My records also indicate that you carried both a 4.0 GPA and perfect attendance throughout both High School and what college you have completed so far. Is that also correct?"

"Yes," she said with more than a little confusion.

Garibaldi pulled a sheet of paper from his folder and spun it around to face her. There was a number circled in the middle in red. "And is this your current credit rating?"

"What?...Yes….What is this, a job interview?" She glanced at the other officer, hoping for some hint as to what was going on, but he looked just as confused as she felt.

"Sorry, wasn't I clear? Yes, yes it is. For the position of one of my Deputies. Congratulations, you're hired."

"What? I'm….what?"

"You are hired, Deputy Holloran," he said, pronouncing each word slowly and individually. "Look, recent events have shown that this fleet is going to have to figure out how to get along. The Marsies are causing trouble, and the civies from Earth aren't much better. So I'm bringing you on to keep an eye on the Marsies and other spacers, and Zack here to watch over the poor Earth babies. Meanwhile, I will sit back and enjoy myself while you two work yourselves to the bone. Damn, it's gonna be fun."

"Ummm, boss?" Zack started to ask, but Tessa regained control of herself and overrode him. "Why me?" she demanded.

"What, you mean aside from all of those wonderful answers you just gave me?"

"You have a whole fleet full of security personnel, GroPos, Marines, and military police. Not to mention a ton of former Mars Law Enforcement Personnel who were scooped up into this fleet. Every one of them is more qualified than I am."

"Good point. But, you have one thing that none of those people have. You're not tainted."

"Excuse me?"

"No need. You haven't done anything which needs excusing. That's the whole point. I need someone the people of Mars can trust. That excludes all of the military and civilian fleet personnel, for being your abductors. It also excludes any authorities and law enforcement personnel from Mars, both for trying to enforce to the Governor's edict by trying to prevent your escape, and for failing to do so and coming along. Which means I have very few candidates. And I also need someone I can trust."

"And what makes you think I can be trusted?

"Your file. Your answers. My gut. And glowing endorsements from Stephen Franklin and some cadet named Susan Ivanova, both of whom have been down, asking that you be released."

"Alright. Now we've established why you need me. Why would I even want the job?"

"Because your father made you believe in law and order? Because you want to do what's best for the people of Mars, and you know that means surviving in this fleet. Or how about because you're stuck. I'm not sure if you were planning on sticking with the Boy Wonder, but right now he is telling everyone who will listen, pretty much just his cell mates, that he has broken it off with, and I quote here, 'that traitor bitch.' I'm going to have to release him eventually. At which point you're either going to have to be making a name for yourself as the face of Mars's future, or have your name dragged through the mud and end up just as separated from your people as you feel from the rest of us."

Tessa sighed again. "I hope the pay is at least good."

"We're under Martial Law, remember? The pay is entirely non-existent. The hours are ridiculously long. But, at least the food sucks."

She had a good poker face. She didn't smile at all. "So at least I get food chits?"

"As many as you want. Well, sufficient to feed yourself and supplement a few others. Several others if you're conservative about it. Aside from that," he said, standing up, "the only real perk is that you occasionally get to hit somebody, really hard. Oh, and of course you can hit Zackie here for free, any time you want." With that he walked out.

The moment he was through the door, he heard Zack say, a smirk in his voice, "Just don't aim for the face, Sweetheart." This was followed by a meaty thud and the whoosh of all the air leaving Mr. Allan's lungs. Garibaldi smiled. I guess she took the job.

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Alfred Bester wandered the halls of his ship, the Mother. There was a strange tingling at the base of his skull, and he knew for a fact that it was a telepathic signal. That wasn't exactly strange on a ship full of telepaths. It was the nature of the signal which was intriguing. It was so faint that he was certain only a P-12 would pick up on it. Like a background hum that most people couldn't hear. But on this ship there were a number of P-12s, and none of them had noticed a thing. Which meant that this signal had somehow been tuned specifically to him, for his 'ears' only.

He turned down another corridor, trying to home in on the signal, frustratingly just out of reach, out of focus in a way. He took a door, and found himself in the same large storage room he had already visited a half dozen times. He took a breath and looked around the apparently empty room. He pulled on his Psi-Cop persona, and thought about what he was seeing. The ship was hurting for space, with supplies stacked in the corridors, and some of the passengers even forced to hot bunk. Why would any storage room be left empty? He looked closely at the surroundings. And then he looked deeper. And then deeper still, reaching out with his mind as well as his senses, probing at the reality around him.

With a snap felt in the mind rather than heard in the room, the mental covers fell away from his mind, and he saw the room suddenly filled with furniture...a dining table here, a bedroom set there, even a kitchenette in the corner. The soft glow of electric lights coming from the displays on the appliances indicated that they were hooked up and functional, which meant that this room had been in place long before the fleet had launched.

A tall man with a very familiar face looked up at him from where he was sitting in a reclining chair. "It took you long enough, Al. I was starting to think I was going to have to leave you a trail of breadcrumbs."

"Assistant Director Drake? How are you here? You were supposed to be on Earth."

"Well, Director now, I suppose. And yes, the mundanes did everything they could to ensure none of the Psi-Corp leadership made it off of Earth. They tried to kill the Corp, Al. They thought by offering to let more telepaths live, we would be willing to let the Corp die. Never. We won't let that happen."

"Of course not," Bester agreed. "Is Director Johnston with you? The other Assistant Directors?"

"Come, come, Al. You know Johnston was never really one of us. He wasn't part of the family. As for the others, I'm afraid it's just me. We planned to all be here, but the mundanes really did do a surprisingly good job of keeping us all pinned down. I'm afraid our hopes rest of just you and me now, Al. They tried to kill the Corp, but we are going to bring it back. The Corp is Mother, the Corp is Father. Can I count on you, Al?"

"Of course, Director."

"You haven't gotten too comfortable being an Earth Force officer, have you? The allure is obvious; being a hero, savior of mankind, all of that."

"Working with a bunch of mundanes? No sir, I haven't gotten too comfortable. And all I really want is to be the savior of telepathkind."

"Good man, Al!" Drake said with a smile. "Now, it's time to roll up our sleeves. We've got work to do."