The Final Circle

by Sufficient Velocity

This is a Babylon 5 centered tale. It explores a BSG style exodus due to the loss of the Earth Minbari war. It becomes a crossover with nBSG as of Interlude 1, and crosses with Firefly as of Interlude 2. Most B5 and BSG canon should remain unchanged, including EU. However, Firefly will mostly use series and film canon. Its EU began to expand after I had already merged the plots.

6. Chapter 5 - We Few

Chapter 5 - We Few

Entering Orion system - Exodus Fleet - October, 2248

Once again, a jump gate and four separate jump points flared as one, and began disgorging the fleet into normal space. The Orion system was one of the Earth Alliance's primary colonies, which made it a huge Minbari target. It also made it a huge source of humans, and the job of the Exodus fleet was to get humans out of the way of the Minbari juggernaut. So once again, they would try to get a System Governor to try to see reason.

Commander Jeffrey Sinclair was hopeful that this time would go better than the last couple. He had sent a squadron of Starfuries into the system in advance of the fleet, ensuring the system was still human held, and that the Minbari were not present. Now that the fleet was in system, his job was to ensure the Combat Space Patrol guarding the fleet was well organized and secure. He knew that the most practical way to do this was from his station on the Midway. But sometimes you just needed to feel space around you, and show the pups that the 'Old Man' still knew how to fly.

So it was that Commander Sinclair, Commander Star Fighter Group (a position still referred to as the CAG due to both a sense of tradition and a desire for easy pronunciation, just as the Combat Space Patrol was still referred to as the CAP) found himself strapped into a Starfury, with half a squadron guarding his back, flying up and down the line of the fleet. He spent more time on comms than actually flying, continually shuffling squadrons around, but at least he was out here, seeing things with his own eyes. "Red Alpha, you're drifting. Adjust heading zero zero three by zero one two."

"Roger Group Leader. Red Alpha adjusting course."

"Midway to Group Leader," came another voice out of his comms.

"Group Leader. Go ahead Midway."

"Most of the fleet has entered the system. Lexington will be coming through momentarily."

"Acknowledged, Midway. Group Leader out." Switching over to his squadron net, he said, "Ok, boys, let's go roll out the red carpet for Lady Lex." With that the squadron adjusted course and zoomed back towards the jump gate.

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Hours later, after the fleet was well in system and some of the lead elements had already entered orbit around Orion VII, Sinclair was still hard at it. He was now helping to direct the swarms of repair craft which had gone out. A number of the smaller civilian craft which had joined the fleet, shuttles and short haul transports, even some yachts, were already starting to have breakdowns. It wasn't unexpected, and they had brought plenty of spare parts. But, it was labor intensive, and also burned a good deal of fuel as repair craft shuttled to and fro, ministering to the distressed vessels. It also required a lot of direction and coordination, and Sinclair's voice was starting to go hoarse as he directed both repair craft and the CSP which was still out in force.

"Red Alpha Leader to Group Leader."

"Group Leader. Go ahead, Red Alpha."

"Sir, I may have gotten a whiff of something odd from that group of rogue asteroids at bearing three four seven by one six two."

"Care to be more specific, Red Alpha?"

"Barely a blip, sir. Maybe just a sensor ghost. Just being cautious."

"Caution is a good thing. Take your squad and check it out, Red Alpha Leader."

"Acknowledged."

While Red Alpha was closing in on the asteroids, Sinclair adjusted the rest of the CSP, making sure to cover the hole opened up by Red Alpha's new course.

Eventually Sinclair's comm chirped again. "Red Alpha Leader to Group Leader."

"Group Leader," he acknowledged. "Go ahead, Red Alpha."

"Looks like it was a wild goose chase, sir. There's nothing here, just…" His signal dissolved in a burst of static.

Sinclair was about to try signaling him when another voice blared excitedly over the comm, "Red Alpha 4 to all ships! We have a flight of Minbari fighters! Red Alpha Leader and Red Alpha 2 are…." The second signal also dissolved to static. Sinclair quickly brought up the tactical report on Red Alpha Wing, and winced as he saw that over half the squadron had already been blown out of the sky.

"Group Leader to all squadrons. Make for the jump gate, max thrust. Even Minbari fighters aren't jump capable. They'll have to use the jump gate to get out of the system. Stop them at all costs. It's possible they don't have the equipment to report on us from normal space. We have to stop them from passing on news of the fleet's location. Any means necessary. Group Leader out."

He received a chorus of acknowledgements, and then turned his own squadron towards the gate and kicked in maximum burn. He checked on Red Alpha again, and winced as he saw that only two Starfuries remained, both damaged, and that the Minbari had pulled away and were running for the jump gate. Damn they're fast, he thought. Tracking their course he could see that Blue Epsilon squadron would get there ahead of the Minbari. Theta squadron would arrive at almost exactly the same time as the Minbari, but that was really just a flight, not a full squadron, which was all the Lexington could carry.

Given what those three Minbari fighters had done to Red Alpha, he was fairly certain that Blue Epsilon and Theta wouldn't be able to stop them from accessing the gate. Sinclair's squadron was the next closest group. But, given the distance, there was no way he could get there in time to join the furball and take out the Minbari before they could escape. But… It galled him, but maybe he could take a page from Jankowski's book.

When the navigation computer signaled him to switch over from acceleration to deceleration, he kept the engines redlined. Shortly, he received an inquiry from his second. "Sir, if we don't start decel we'll blow right past them."

"And if we do decel, by the time we get there they'll already be gone. No. We go in hot, full throttle. We line up for one pass. We'll come up on their six and punch through, firing everything we've got."

"Sir, they'll be in a furball with Theta and Epsilon. We'll be flying right down the throats of our own fighters. There'll be a good chance of a blue on blue hit."

Sinclair wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or weep. He had read the flight logs of the action which had put him in the hospital for months. It seemed that this time he was playing the bone head. And so he spoke his lines, "The formation will break under the Minbari assault. It always does, given their speed and our inability to lock onto them. Theta and Epsilon will be pushed out of formation, which will lessen the likelihood of such an incident. Besides, any means necessary."

On his screens he saw Blue Epsilon barely get into position before the Minbari hit them. They lost three Starfuries in the first five seconds. And then Theta arrived, replenishing their numbers, and the furball devolved into a street fight. Unfortunately, the Minbari were the big kids on the block, and three more Starfuries blew apart. At least their need to use the jumpgate forced the Minbari to come in close where their stealth was much less effective.

The jumpgate flared to life, the Minbari preparing to flee. As a parting act, they destroyed another couple of Starfuries. Not a one of the three had yet taken a scratch. Sinclair's rate of closure rapidly approached and then exceeded a kilometer per second, and the moment they gained visual contact with the furball his entire squadron opened fire with their Pulse cannons. They attempted to drag their streams of Pulser fire into the enemy fighters. In the barely three seconds between spotting and bursting through the enemy formation, Sinclair realized several things. First, upon seeing the tails of the Minbari fighters and the broken remains of Theta and Epsilon's formation, he understood that the attack had been perfectly positioned, and that this time there would be no accidental collision. A second after that he saw and visually locked onto a specific enemy fighter, and realized that his stream of Pulse cannon bursts would be on target for at least a couple of seconds; hopefully sufficient to deal with even Minbari armor and get him a kill. It was only in the very final second, when he saw not one, but all three Minbari fighters blow apart, that he realized he had been successful. They had stopped the Minbari. And he had Michael Jankowski to thank for it all.
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Orion system - EAS Midway - October, 2248

John Sheridan watched Jeff Sinclair glide into the room and take a station. The man had come directly from his Starfury, and looked absolutely exhausted. None of them in the room looked particularly well rested, but if it hadn't been for the zero-G, John would have been worried that Sinclair might have collapsed to the floor. But he didn't really have time to worry. Instead, he rapped his knuckles on the table and said, "Let's begin." The second meeting of the Council of Captains was underway. He gave everyone a couple of seconds to focus, and then asked Sinclair, "How bad is it?"

"We lost the better part of two full squadrons, but in the end we got the bastards. Complete loss of sixteen Starfuries. Five more down for repairs. In exchange, we took out three Minbari fighters….those Nials. That's a seven to one exchange rate, which is easily fifty percent better than we managed to do throughout the war. We've got Starfuries to spare in storage, but we were already light on trained pilots. Maintaining combat patrols is going to start putting a real strain on the crews."

Bester broke in. "What was the point? They were running away. If you had just let them, we wouldn't be down any pilots."

"I couldn't let them escape and potentially report us!"

"These are the Minbari, Commander," Bester said with exaggerated patience. "They almost certainly had Tachyon comms on board their craft."

"And if they didn't, we could prevent them from reporting our fleet position. It was worth the risk!"

"But was it worth the lives of your pilots?" Bester asked softly.

Sinclair clenched his teeth and ground out, "We all knew the risks when we signed up."

"Ahh, but as General Lefcourt pointed out, many of us didn't sign up for this mission. Many of us were shanghaied."

"That's enough," Sheridan barked. "Right or wrong, what's done is done. We're not going to start second guessing each other. The chain of command is screwy enough as it is. But, for the record," he said making eye contact with Sinclair, "I would have done exactly the same thing."

Jeff nodded his thanks, and then asked, "How is the evacuation going?"

Levitt spoke up. "Surprisingly well. For once we have a Governor who seems to know what she is doing. Governor Zane is a formidable woman. She was already anticipating an evacuation. Every viable craft from Orion IV, Orion VII, and Earth Colony 3 is headed here now, or will be shortly. She has already prioritized children for the evacuation….everyone under the age of 18, and mothers with babies. Unfortunately, given the population of the system, we don't have nearly enough seats to take everyone."

"How many do we have?" Gideon asked.

"Just over sixty thousand. We're going to have to whittle down the list of eligible candidates."

Garibaldi broke in. "What about all of those civilian ships? The ones coming and the ones already here. Most of them are privately held, and I doubt that they are all at maximum capacity. We could require that any ship coming with the fleet must take on passengers up to their maximum capacity. If they don't have the space they can just dump anything non-critical that they may have tried to bring along. For that matter, since we are restocking their consumables en route, they can ignore some of their life support limitations."

"Is anyone opposed to Michael's suggestion?" Sheridan asked. There was no dissent, so he continued, "We still won't have enough seats. I suggest we stick with Governor Zane's choice to bring the children. We should start with the oldest and then work our way down in age until we are out of seats."

"Shouldn't we start with the youngest? And their mothers?" Levitt argued.

"We don't have a surplus of caretakers. And if we bring their mothers, can we justify leaving the fathers behind? The more parents we take, the fewer children. Besides, we need people who will be ready to work when we get to wherever we are going. And, yes, start their own families as well. That means taking the oldest children. It's hard, but we need to maximize the survivors' chances of surviving." It was called to a vote, but in the end only Levitt and Gideon opposed starting with the oldest children. The meeting dispersed shortly afterwards.

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Leaving the Orion system - The Olympic - October, 2248

"Damn, this place is getting crowded." Zack Allan was complaining again. Tessa hadn't worked with him all that often in the week since she had taken the job, but when she did he was inevitably complaining about something.

That's not surprising. I hear we pulled nearly an additional 100,000 people out of Orion."

"Well, we are officially full," he pronounced. "The air is already starting to taste kinda thin. We try to cram in any more people, we'll have to start storing them in the airlocks," he said with a grin.

"Not funny. This is the place." They were walking down one of the Olympic's sublevels, near the Engineering stations which serviced the main engines. The security station had received a message from one of the janitorial crew, insisting that security be sent down right away. But he had refused to say why over the comm. Garibaldi didn't have time to play those kinds of games, and since both Allan and she had been on board the Olympic, he had told them to look into it.

There was a large man standing up ahead, waving to them. He appeared to be of Samoan ancestry, and while neither Zack nor Tessa was the least bit short, he towered over them. It was a bit disconcerting to see someone that size looking so nervous.

"Are you the guy that called us?" Zack asked.

"Yes. My name is Manuia Faamoana. I clean up and do simple maintenance."

"So what's up?"

He looked very nervous, but motioned for them to follow him. He lead them down several corridors, into parts of the ship generally only used by Maintenance personnel. He stopped and indicated a side corridor. "Through there."

Giving the man a curious look, Zack stepped around the corner. "Oh, hell…."

Tessa joined him, stopping in shock. Three people had been nailed to the wall of the corridor, crucifix fashion. They were all dead, but the excessive blood from their wounds indicated that they had died in place. Their faces were also covered in blood, soaking the gags they were all wearing, from identical wounds to their foreheads. Good God, were those drill holes?

Tessa stepped back around the corner and threw up on the floor. She heard Allan gagging, but he managed to keep his lunch down.

"Hey, I have to clean that up, you know," Manuia said calmly.

Tessa wiped her mouth. "Sorry."

"It's ok. I did the same thing."

Zack stepped back around the corner. "Did you notice their hands?" he asked.

"What, you mean the fact they were nailed to the wall?"

"No. How they were nailed. Right through their standard issue gloves."

"Oh, hell. They're telepaths?"

"It would seem that way. I'm guessing that's why someone drilled into their heads; to keep them from calling out telepathically. Which means our perp knows an awful lot about telepaths." He activated his link and contacted Garibaldi. "Boss, you're gonna wanna see this."

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Altair system - EAS Midway - October, 2248

The returning Starfuries were locked in and drawn into the hangar bay. Lieutenant Sheila McDonnell, otherwise known as Gold Alpha Leader, opened the comms to her wing, "Good job people."

Her wingman, Lieutenant JG Sofia Martinez in Gold Alpha 2, commed back, "Thanks, Boss. You up for a cold one?" Together the two of them were known as the S&Ms, and not just because of their initials.

"Sorry, Sof. I've got a date with my rack." Switching over to the local net, she commed the hanger Chief. "This is Gold Alpha squadron, returning. Request permission to pop hatches and deplane."

"Negative, Gold Alpha Leader. My orders are to do a quick refuel and replenish and get you back in the black ASAP."

It had been a long day, and Sheila just lost it. "Frag that noise! Do you know how long we've been in these tin cans! Check your orders, you've made a mistake!"

"No mistake Gold Alpha. You're needed on CSP. As I said, they want you out there now."

"Bullshit! My people just did a fourteen hour system insertion recon. We're the reason the fleet knew it was safe to pop in at all. We've done our part. My people are burnt and need some damned down time, cadet!" It was unfair of her, but the fact that the crew of the Midway were almost all pulled directly from the Academy was a sore spot for many of the other members of the crew, as well as an item of amusement and scorn from her counterparts on other vessels.

He handled the barb and the shouting surprisingly well. "Don't kill the messenger, Gold Alpha. The only other ship in position to provide a CAP right now is the Mother. And yes, Black Omega IS supposed to be on CAP right now. But Mother is having problems with her launchers, and they are working on them at best speed. That leaves the part of the fleet that is already in system without a CAP, until I get your butts back out there. Look, it shouldn't be for much more than an hour. Maybe less. I know it sucks LT, but that's the job."

Cursing, Sheila switched back over to the squadron net. "Hold up people."

"What's going on, boss?" Gold Alpha 4, Ensign Robert Anders, asked.

"We're needed on patrol." Her pronouncement was met by a chorus of groans and curses. "I know folks, I know. But the fleet needs us, and it will hopefully just be another hour."

That was met with more grumbling, but she knew her people would get the job done. She saw that the hanger Chief was comming her. "Yes, Chief. What wonderful news do you have for me now?"

"I'm reading bad induction coils on a couple of your birds. We're going to pressurize the hanger and do a hot swap. It will take about five to ten minutes, so if you want to get out and breath some less stale air, you've got a bit."

"Roger, that," she said, with some gratitude. "Sorry about the cadet jab." Seeing the external pressure readings coming up to normal, she commed the squad. "Take five, squad. They've pressurized the bay, so you can pop seals and stretch."

She put action to her words by exiting her Starfury. She popped her helmet seal, and inhaled the hanger air, which only drove home how much she truly stank at this point. Damn. She was going to need to vibe clean before she racked out. Performing a series of stretches she watched as the fresh faced hanger crew, and who'd have thought cadets could actually get the job done, raced around the hanger, leaping across the zero-G bay, dragging metal fuel and air lines.

Sheila looked up the line of parked Starfuries, reactors still hot, as the hanger crew worked at top speed to get them launched again. Her own crew were now out of their vehicles, popping their own helmets. Lieutenant JG Gregori Vassilev actually took out a cigarette and lit it! The man had a bad case of PTSD. Hell, they all did, but his was one of the worst she had ever seen. He probably shouldn't have been flying, but the way they were hurting for pilots, there really wasn't a choice. Still, he should definitely have known better. She opened her mouth to tell him to put the damned thing out, and then give him a serious dressing down.

She never got the chance.

The Accident Investigation Panel that was later assembled had had to be come from civilians in the fleet, as the military forces did not have the necessary expertise. Initially, they focused on the cigarette as a point of ignition, but detailed analysis of the available video footage showed at least seven potential ignition sources, ranging from hot engines to flailing fuel lines to hot swapping charged induction coils. And yes, that damned cigarette.

The available footage was grainy and low-res enough that it was impossible to determine the actual flash point. The physical evidence inside the bay was either gone, or stripped before the investigation could be completed. Getting the hanger bay back up and running was deemed to be more important than an exhaustive accident investigation, with the team trying to put the jigsaw puzzle that was the bay and the Starfuries back together.

The Panel did discover enough to lay responsibility for the accident at the feet of the former cadets running the bay...or rather those who chose to use them. The cadets had been very well trained, and were good at their jobs. But long hours, fatigue, and stress can cause even the best crews to make mistakes. And while the hanger crew had had the best of training, they were still very short on experience, with limited oversight. They had not had the time to internalize safe practices into habit and form a culture of safety. The focus on speed, on getting the squadrons replenished and back in the black, had led them to begin to cut corners. They improved speed by eliminating steps which seemed unnecessary. Steps they didn't understand had been put into place as critical safety precautions. Those crews would all need to go through crash retraining.

But all of that was weeks and months into the future. For the time being, there was only the accident. The equipment, fuel lines, spare munitions, and Starfuries; Sheila McDonnell, Sofia Martinez, Robert Anders, Gregori Vassilev, and the rest of Gold Alpha squadron, as well as the hanger Chief and all of his on hand crew, were blown up, burnt to a crisp, and sucked out into the vacuum of space.

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The blast threw the Midway into a slow tumble, and hurled everyone who was strapped in against their restraints. Those who weren't strapped in were either thrown into a bulkhead or, if they were lucky enough to be on the opposite side of the compartment, sent sailing across the room, which gave them time to reorient and arrest their falls."

"Report!" Lieutenant Commander Matthew Gideon shouted from the command chair.

"Captain, we've got explosive decompression from Hangar Bay 2!" By long tradition, the commander of a ship was always referred to as Captain by the crew, regardless of their actual rank.

Gideon's blood ran cold. He had friends on duty down there. "Did they evacuate the bay?"

"Negative, sir. Gold Alpha squadron had just embarked, and they were being prepped for relaunch."

"Get Damage Control down there now!" he ordered. Mumbling to himself, he said, "I hope it's not too bad."

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"It's a complete disaster," Gideon advised the room. The Council was meeting on board the Eratosthenes, as things were still chaotic on board the Midway. "We lost all of Gold Alpha squadron, and an entire hangar crew."

Sinclair took over. "This puts us critically under strength for fighter coverage. We will not be able to maintain an adequate CAP. We will have to switch to under strength scouting flights and depend upon rapid reaction squadrons. Even that is still going to stretch our available manpower."

"What about Project Little Bird?" Lochley asked. "Can we start it early?

"I don't see that we really have any other choice. I have already begun the preparations."

"Wait," Sheridan interrupted. "You want to run fighter training school? Now!?"

"We had planned to do so from the beginning. We knew that we would be losing pilots and would need to train replacements," Sinclair said.

"Yes, but not until we were safely out of EA space and beyond the Minbari threat. Or better yet, once we had settled somewhere."

"We can't afford to wait that long. Our available fighters can't cover the fleet properly. We need to supplement that force as soon as possible. As it stands, a small number of Minbari fighters could decimate the civilian ships. And the Minbari aren't the only threat out there, either. It's a dangerous galaxy."

"So what are your plans?" Lochley asked.

"We need these pilots in place as quickly as possible, so we can't afford to start from scratch. We've been searching through the files of all of our military personnel, as well as the info we have on our civilian passengers, looking for the optimal candidates. I'm hoping to train three squadrons with the first class, to bring us back up to nominal levels."

"Civilians?" Lochley asked skeptically.

"Those who were capable of being a fighter pilot generally already were. There are a few of our active military personnel who will probably do well. Current shuttle and ship pilots, mostly, but also a couple of flight crew who washed out of fighter school, and one Special Forces Captain who was a stunt pilot in his spare time back on Earth. Enough candidates to fill one of those three squads.

"It was when I decided on the SF Captain that I realized the civilians might have something to offer. I started by looking for competitive stunt pilots, and found a surprising number of them. But in looking for pilots, I discovered that there are a surprising number of civilian former fighter pilots with us. They either retired from the service or were drummed out for various reasons….health or misconduct."

"You want to bring back Court Martialed pilots?" Garibaldi asked skeptically.

Sinclair met his eyes. "Yes," he said seriously. "Two or three of them. Folks who were drummed out of the service for minor offenses at a time when the military wasn't so desperate for personnel. If needs must when the Minbari drive."

"You know," Gideon said after a moment, "Earth Force has been calling for personnel since the war started. If these civilians haven't been drawn back into the military already, it may be because they have no desire to be. They may just turn you down."

"I've anticipated that. I've put together a list of a few dozen of the top candidates. We'll go down the list until we fill out the second squad."

"And the third squad?" Levitt inquired.

"Cadets." A ripple of groans went around the room, which seemed to amuse Sinclair. Gideon, on the other hand, shot a glare at every last one of them. Sinclair continued. "I understand your concerns. But, these cadets already have a lot of training. They were the trainees assigned to the Midway when it was still a training ship. Lefcourt decided we absolutely needed to use the cadets for running the ship, but we had just enough pilots not to have to use cadets for that role, and Lefcourt felt they could use a bit more seasoning. I agree with that, by the way. I considered suggesting that they go right into service, but I think we should put them through a hard train process first.

"As advantages, they already are very familiar with the Midway and it's processes, and they know and have worked very closely with the Midway's crew and her Captain. Well...all but one of them anyway. I have saved one slot for a second year cadet." That drew another round of looks from the Captains, this time including Gideon. "I know what you're thinking. But she's not actually that young. She dropped out of college and enrolled in the academy after her brother was killed in action against the Minbari. She's also got some limited pilot training from that same brother. But the deciding factor for me was the space combat aptitude test that's administered to all first year cadets. Hers were the highest in academy history. They blew mine out of the water. Susan Ivanova has got what it takes."

"Susan Ivanova?" asked Sheridan. "Ganya's little sister? I served with him. He was killed in the battle against the Black Star. He was one our best pilots."

"His sister will be even better," Sinclair promised. "I know all of this is unorthodox, but a lack of fighter pilots could doom the whole fleet."

"Even our best pilots get slaughtered against the Minbari," Bester noted. "If you rush these people through training, how will they have any chance at all?"

"If all they do is act as a sponge for Minbari fire, that still might buy enough time for the fleet to get out of a tight spot. But I have no intention of turning out substandard pilots. These are the ones I think could be ready quickly. I've got plenty of other candidates for a second and third round of training."

"Well, you sold me," Garibaldi piped in. "Is there anyone actually opposed to the idea?" After a few moments of silence he stated, "well then, the aye's I didn't bother to count have it. Let's adjourn this puppy."

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Hyperspace, en route to Epsilon Eridani system, Exodus Fleet - October, 2248

Sheridan sat in the command chair on the bridge of the EAS Nova. They were on rear guard, well back from the last ship of the fleet. He was going over reports from the various department heads, when he heard the sensor operator gasp, "Oh, hell. Captain! We've got a Minbari cruiser bearing down on us fast, coming up from dead astern."

Of course, Sheridan thought, where else would they be coming from? You have to follow the beacons in hyper, so it's either dead astern or they would have run into the vanguard ship way up front. Out loud he said, "Sound call to battle stations. Notify the fleet of our pursuer. Advise all ships to go to maximum thrust for Epsilon Eridani. Call for the ready reaction squad to get back here and cover us. Get any pilots on board to their ships and get them launched. Then prepare to swing us about."

"Shouldn't we just engage them with our tail guns, Captain?" Takashima asked.

"No, we need to stop them as far back from the fleet as possible. Buy them time to escape. For that matter, as far back as we are hanging, they might not even have seen the rest of the fleet. They might think it's just us." Was this it? Lefcourt had said that, in the first action against a real Minbari threat, he and his ship were likely to be thrown away in order for the rest of the fleet to escape. Had that time come? Maybe not. Perhaps there was a chance.

"Come about," he ordered, and the ship began a rapid spin. "Sensors, navigation, weapons, I want our best estimate as to the location of that ship. You've got one minute." As the officers spoke quietly but hurriedly with each other, the Minbari ship raced closer. After slightly less than a minute he asked, "do we have an estimate on range?" When he got a nod he ordered, "Prepare a couple of energy mines. I want them to go off fifty kilometers short of where we think the Minbari are. Ready? Fire!"

The energy mines streaked outwards towards the Minbari, and then detonated. Their one hundred megaton fury briefly blinded the Nova, but readings came back a second later. "No effect, Captain," Takashima reported, disappointment in her voice.

"Give me three more. This time, move them into thirty kilometers shy of our estimate on their location. Place them in a triangular pattern around the Minbari's path, each fifteen kilometers out from dead center."

"The Minbari will enter their firing range in seconds, Captain," Takashima advised.

"Fire!" The energy mines streaked away. "See if you can filter the glare more this time."

"Aye, Captain," called the sensor operator. The energy mines detonated one at a time. The glare on the screen was much more muted this time. The entire bridge crew watched as the first mine did absolutely nothing. And then the second. When the third mine detonated, however, the Minbari ship seemed to heave and list, spinning nearly forty degrees to port. It regained control within seconds, and shortly corrected it's course, but it slowed itself, significantly, and the range began to open up again.

Laurel looked at him. "How? We've never been able to crack their stealth."

"And we still haven't," he said. "But in hyperspace, they have to follow the beacon just like us. Their stealth means our targeting is going to be way off, but the whole point of an energy mine is to effect a massive area. Their stealth is so good that historically even our one hundred megaton mines haven't had enough punch to compensate. That's why Earth Force was working on gigaton mines for the new Omegas. We ran out time for those, but we have an advantage here. Hyperspace isn't like normal space. It's not a vacuum. It's a medium, almost like atmosphere. Which gives the energy of the mine something to propagate through, significantly increasing the area of effect. It also causes all kinds of weird effects in hyperspace, but we're headed away from those effects, while the Minbari are heading into them. Even the Minbari don't like to fight in hyperspace."

"They're coming in again, Captain!" called the sensors operator. On the screen, the Minbari had returned to their intercept course, and were again closing the distance rapidly.

"Give me another trio of mines," Sheridan ordered. "Fire!" All three mines flew through the void and detonated around the apparent location of the Minbari. It's course remained unchanged.

"No effect, Captain," Takashima noted.

"Again. Fire!" This time, when the first mine detonated, the Sharlin seemed to waver, and then heeled over hard. The range again began to increase. "Spin us about! Max thrust for E. Eridani!" The Nova had spun around in seconds, and was shortly under full burn. "We need to make sure that we don't overtake the fleet. They need to be fully into the system before we reach the gate. Cease acceleration if we achieve overtake speeds."

"Aye, Captain," Takashima called. Several minutes later she said, "Captain Sheridan, the Minbari are back, coming up at high speed."

"Spin us about, and prepare another salvo of mines." He waited for the turn to be completed, and the weapons officer to indicate he had his best estimate for the Sharlin's location. "Fire!" This time the Minbari cruiser seemed to jerk with the second detonation.

"Did you see that?" Sheridan asked excitedly.

"Captain?"

"It looked like there was a small secondary flash, and maybe some debris. I might be mistaken, be perhaps we did some real damage. It could have been secondary effects, perhaps some decompression."

"The Minbari are backing off again, Captain," Laurel said.

"Bring us about and resume former course."

She leaned over, close to his station, and informed him in a quiet voice, meant for his ears only, "Captain, if the Minbari keep coming on as they have been, our supplies of energy mines won't last very long."

"Long enough to get us to Epsilon Eridani?"

"It'll be really close, Captain."

"We'll go for it then. Thank you for the warning, Lieutenant Commander."

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"Minbari backing off again, Captain. I think I can see damage to their hull," Lieutenant Commander Takashima advised. "Sensors cannot confirm, of course." The Minbari had slowed the number of attempts they were making to close the range, but the attempts they did make had become rather creative. They had made several attempts to pass the Nova at range, swinging dangerously wide of the beacon path, probably to the point they had lost contact with it. That meant they were probably counting on their sensor contact with the Nova to get them back onto a beacon lock. It was actually quite dangerous for them. If the Nova managed to damage them enough to break sensor lock, they might be lost in hyperspace forever. However, it was also a very effective tactic, making it much harder for the officers of the Nova to cut them off with energy mine salvoes. They had been forced to expend the munitions lavishly to prevent the Minbari from getting in front of them, which would have given the Minbari the tactical advantage and ended the battle shortly thereafter. She leaned in closer to Sheridan and whispered, "We have only one energy mine left, sir."

Sheridan grunted and responded quietly, "That's alright, Laurel. We made it. We're only a few minutes from the E. Eridani gate. Did we get a confirmation on my suggestions for fleet disposition?"

"Commander Sinclair commed, and stated that General Lefcourt has approved your plan. The whole fleet will be making their way across the system to the other jump gate at max thrust."

"Good. If we have to blow the gate, hopefully only a small portion of the fleet will be close enough to be destroyed by the blast."

"Captain?" she asked, shocked.

"Get us through the gate, Lieutenant Commander, and then bring us to a stop immediately. Prepare to initiate the Bonehead maneuver."

"Captain, that would be suicide. We could never escape the blast." A jumpgate was, of necessity, basically a set of giant capacitors, coupled to giant generators. It took vast amounts of energy to open a jump point, and a jump gate opened a larger jump point than any ship, and could hold one open for longer as well. The massive energies involved in jump gate operations had lead some enterprising young officer to question what would happen if someone attempted to use a ship based jump drive to open a jump point in an active jump gate. The suggestion was filed, and thus was born the Bonehead maneuver. It was so named because it was determined immediately that the resulting explosion, large enough to rival a planetary detonation, would create a blast wave that no known ship could possibly escape. It was a powerful, but invariably suicidal maneuver. "Besides," she continued, "Minbari cruisers have their own jump drives, and often choose to use them rather than going through jump gates. Especially after we took out one of their Sharlins when the Patton rammed it. Going through a jump gate tells us exactly where they are, and the whole point of their stealth system is to never allow us that information."

"I know. I'm hoping that they won't want to waste the time using a separate area for a jump. This is a chase, and they'll want to cut us off before we can run to the system's other jumpgate."

"They wouldn't have to rush, sir. The fleet isn't fast enough to let us dash across the system."

"Yes, but they shouldn't know that. The fleet was far enough ahead that the Minbari shouldn't have been able to detect them. As far as the Minbari are concerned, we're alone. Besides, even if they do choose to create their own jump point, there's a good chance that they will still be close enough that a jump gate explosion will be big enough to take them out. But, if they come through the jumpgate, we might have some other options. If they use their jump drive, we'll have no choice but Bonehead."

Laurel straightened, and said in a louder voice, "Approaching jumpgate. Cycling now." There was a blossoming of light in the patch of hyperspace in front of them. The blue-green swirl of a hyperspace exit vortex opened before them, and the Nova fell through into normal space. "Full stop," Takashima ordered. Then, looking at her displays, her eyebrows rose in concern. "Captain," she said, shunting her display to one of his personal screens, "it's the Lexington." Sitting directly in front of them, at a dead stop relative to the gate, sat the EAS Lexington, and two full squadrons of fighters. "We've got a comm message coming in from Captain Lochley, sir."

Sheridan, opened the comm message and waited a moment, until the image of his ex-wife appeared on the screen. "What the hell, Liz? You're supposed to be escorting the fleet across the system, not sitting here. The Minbari will be here any moment!"

She appeared completely unmoved by his ire. "And we intend to stand with you John."

"Liz, we'll almost certainly have to use the Bonehead maneuver. Remember what Lefcourt said about how the Nova was to be used. The fleet can't afford to lose both of us."

"John, I know you. I know that you never go for pure suicide tactics. You've got a plan to try to get your crew out of this alive. Sinclair and Bester agree with me. Sinclair approved the fighter dispatch, and Bester is leading those fighters. Let us help. Let me help. Besides, if you have to use Bonehead, then it's already too late for us. So let me help you keep both our crews alive."

Sheridan nodded, angrily. "Fine. Do you remember when we used to discuss how best to defend against the Minbari?" At her nod he continued, "Good. We're going to go with the gate defense plan that we came up with. You remember the one?"

Lochley nodded, but then said, "That requires them to come through the gate. That's not really their style. Is there a reason you think they will?"

"At this point, it's really our only hope. Besides, between bouts of slowing down that cruiser, we've been running dead out for the gate. They can't have seen the fleet, so they should think we're a lone ship; a random survivor of the war. They'll be expecting us to sprint across the system to get away, which means that whoever is commanding that ship out there probably won't risk losing us by slowing down to use an alternate jump point."

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"The humans have completed transition to normal space via the jump gate, Alyt," the Warrior Caste officer said, bowing respectfully to his superior. "We shall arrive at the gate momentarily."

"Travel beyond the gate, and use the jump engines to drop us into the system at least a light second beyond the gate. I want to be in front of that Dreadnought when we transition to normal space."

The warrior bowed again. "With greatest regret, Alyt, I am afraid that I cannot comply. The damage we took from the repeated buffeting of the human weapons has rendered the hyperspace systems currently inoperable. I must apologize for the failure of my damage control and engineering teams."

The Alyt looked at him with a serious expression. "Ni moshna. The fault is mine. I should not have pushed so hard to overtake the humans, particularly after they revealed their tactic. If we have to use the jump gate, we will want to get through as quickly as possible, so that we may maneuver to cut of the humans' escape. Fayzen shok!"

His order was carried out, but afterwards the warrior returned and quietly asked, "Alyt, are you not concerned that they will be waiting to ambush us as we exit the gate? Perhaps a ramming attack, or even an energy mine into the gate? They can just target the gate, rendering our stealth ineffective."

"It is possible, but highly unlikely. Do you recall all those dozens of ships we picked up on long range sensors? They were clearly the tail of a much larger beast. No, this is obviously the evacuation fleet for which we have been searching. Their warriors will be bound, honorless though they may be, to stand guard over their fleeing workers. They will be making their way across the system at best speed. Besides, launching a mine towards the gate would destroy it. Even the humans are not so foolish as that.

"We will, however, take the appropriate precautions. Prepare to launch fighters as soon as we get through the gate. Scan the space in front of us and prepare to engage any vessels which might be on a ramming course. Have point defense and the fighter screen attempt to shoot down any mines or missiles fired at us."

"Alyt, we are ready to transition through the jumpgate."

"Take us through. Nisi du zafann drok."

"Si dromo." The Sharlin slid gracefully forward into the bluish green exit vortex generated by the jump gate. "Forward screens clear. Sensors are picking up a large number of ships a significant distance into the system, fleeing away from us."

That would be the fleet, the Alyt thought. He had been correct, the humans were continuing to flee. "Launch fighters. Set intercept cour….." The deck heaved under him, knocking several of the crew to the floor.

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On his screen, Sheridan watched the jumpgate cycle and a hyperspace vortex burst to life. As rapidly as possible, he had instituted a gate defense he had been considering for quite a while. He had positioned the Nova just a dozen or so meters above the upper strut of the jump gate; perpendicular to the strut, so that the ship would be parallel to the mouth of the open vortex. The Lexington was in a similar position just below the opposite strut, except that it was positioned parallel to the strut. Between the radiant energies of the gate and their nearness to the struts, it should be extremely hard for the Minbari to notice them until it was too late. The four squadrons of fighters, two from the Nova and the two the Lexington had arrived with, were stacked up behind each of the ships, ready to pounce on the Minbari.

"They're coming through!" Takashima called. She seemed to hold her breath for a moment and then called, "It worked! They're so close, we have a partial lock!"

"Fire!" Sheridan commanded, with quiet intensity.

The EAS Nova, first of it's line, carried eighteen turrets, nine to a side. Each turret carried a pair of Medium Laser Cannon; the most powerful direct fire weapon the Earth Alliance had ever mounted on a ship. All told, the Nova mounted thirty-six of them. It let loose with the full starboard broadside of eighteen beams.

Despite their proximity, the Minbari stealth was still partially effective. A third of the beams missed entirely. That still left a dozen powerful lasers to carve into the Sharlin's tail. The vessel seemed to buck like and angry bull. Secondary explosions erupted from the impact points, and shattered crystalline armor and venting atmosphere and other detritus spun off into space.

"Roll!" Sheridan shouted, and the vessel began to rotate in space. As his view began to roll off of the Sharlin, Sheridan watched the pulses from the Lexington also begin to impact. After its refit the Lexington carried a diverse but powerful weapons loadout, concentrated to fire forward. He watched as the Lex's pair of Heavy Pulse Cannon each scored direct hits into the Minbari's' rear. Pulses from the Lex's trio of forward facing Medium Pulse Cannon and its pair of Medium Plasma cannon, as well as a flurry of shot's from its array of Standard Particle Beams, also raced towards the Sharlin, though nearly half of those attacks seemed to miss. All of those weapons were powerful in their own right, but no mere Heavy Cruiser mounted anything to match the lasers mounted on his own dreadnought. Still, every little bit helped.

"Engines to full. Direct every watt of spare power to recharging starboard guns." By the time Sheridan finished giving the command, the roll was completed. He had considered positioning the Nova nose on towards the Minbari, just as the Lexington had, which would have allowed a heavier initial salvo of fourteen turrets instead of nine. But it was much harder to flip a vessel than it was to roll it, so his overall rate and weight of fire would have been lower. "Fire!" he commanded again, and this time the eighteen port lasers spoke. Ten of them struck the Minbari's tail, which was now belching flame and atmosphere in numerous locations.

Time to bring the starboard lasers back around. "Roll!" The roll would be completed before they finished recharging. Hopefully he had already knocked the fight out of the boneheads, and the next salvo or two would finish them off. As the ship began to roll again, he watched as all four squadrons of Starfuries swept in to begin their own attack runs.

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"Bring us about!" the Alyt commanded. Honorless humans! How did we miss them, he asked himself. Those shots had clearly been into the rear of his ship, so he had to get the floundering vessel turned around. He would not lose to humans! "Where is my fighter cover?!"

"Trying to launch now," the warrior in charge of monitoring fighter operations called out. Just as various crew members began picking themselves up off the floor, the deck heaved again, sending them sprawling once more. That was definitely the dreadnought out there. The steady rumble between those enormous hits meant there must be at least one additional but smaller ship in support. "Bring us about!" he ordered again. "We have to return fire on those ships."

"Alyt," called the warrior monitoring damage control, his tone strained. "We have lost most of our maneuver capability. The stealth field is down!"

"Launch those fighters, now!" the Alyt called for the final time.

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Sheridan watched as the Starfuries made a fast run past the Sharlin, strafing known weapons emplacements, trying the neuter the ship. A pair of green beams returned fire, swatting two of their precious Starfuries, and even more precious pilots, from the heavens. But that was the only return fire. It appeared they had caught the Minbari flat footed.

"We have a full weapons lock," Takashima called out in surprise. She looked up and met his eyes. "Their stealth fields are down," she said in shock, then added, "and our starboard lasers just finished recharging."

"Then by all means, fire," he said with a grin. The eighteen Medium Laser Cannon of the starboard broadside spoke, and this time not a single one missed. They carved deep into the Sharlin, and the damage was too much even for that mighty vessel. Secondary blasts began to go off all over the ship. An entire drive fin sheared itself off, and then much of the rear portion of the vessel blew itself apart. This was followed by the self immolation of the forward sections...just seconds after a trio of Nials spit from the Sharlin's hangar bay.

"Ahh hell," Sheridan cursed softly under the cheers coming from every member of the bridge crew, most of whom had not noticed the Nials. He opened the comm to broadcast to the Lexington and the fighter squadrons. "We've got a flight of Nials. All Starfuries, engage, engage, engage."

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"Well, isn't this lovely?" Bester quipped to his squadron, as he lead it in an attempted run against the Minbari fighters. The problem, of course, was that the Nials could bank and accelerate at rates that put any human fighter to shame, and frankly baffled EA engineers. The Minbari picked a vector away from his Black Omega squadron, and toward Red Epsilon, one of two squadrons stationed aboard the Eratosthenes and the other squadron which Commander Sinclair had assigned to escort the Lex into this fight.

The Minbari fighters quickly accelerated out of his weapons envelope, easily dodging the few shots Black Omega sent in their direction. They blew right through Red Epsilon, taking out three Starfuries in the process. The remainder of Red Epsilon attempted to come about and fire on the Nials, but they were already well past the formation and still accelerating. The range rapidly opened, and their stealth fields quickly caused first Black Omega, and then the remains of Red Epsilon, to lose their targeting and sensor locks.

In the distance, Bester could see both of the Nova's fighter squadron, Red Delta and Blue Delta, streaking towards the Minbari. They never even came close. The Nials kept the range open, then swept around both squadrons, and used long range fire to destroy two of Red Delta's Starfuries. They swept past, vectoring away again to further increase the range and improve the performance of their stealth systems. Given their speed and maneuverability, all a Starfury could really hope to do was either build up a significant velocity advantage, Sinclair's successful Zoom and Boom tactic, or use the Starfury's excellent rotational capabilities to keep it's guns pointed in the direction of the enemy. That tactic felt more like manning a slightly mobile AA gun than flying the hottest fighter mankind could produce. But given the Minbari seemed intent on maintaining both their speed and maneuverability advantages in this fight, it seemed to be the only tactic open to him.

"Assume Combat Box formation," he ordered. At his command, Black Omega broke into six sets of wingmen, each pairing moving to take up position in a lopsided box shape. Combat Box formation was better suited to bombers or lumbering warships, allowing them to concentrate their firepower to defend against attacks from any direction. Fighters almost universally utilized alternate formations; those with greater flexibility, making better use of the fighter's capability for maneuver and high speed strikes. But as outclassed as the Starfuries were in those regards, it would be wiser just to have the squadron able to maximize their ability to react as a group to a threat from any vector. Thus, the assumption of Combat Box.

Bester saw Theta squadron in the distance. Lexington's fighter wing (technically the six craft, all a Hyperion class heavy cruiser could carry, were a flight, not a squadron; but you didn't name flights) were pitching up and heading back towards the Lex. Bester led his squadron towards them, hoping to link up and increase his concentration of firepower. However, they had no more than completed their turn when he saw the green beams of the Minbari fighters gut Theta, destroying two of the fighters outright, and leaving a third damaged but intact, though completely dead in space.

At the speed those Nials were moving, that would put them off of his flank right about….now. "Maximum rotation, starboard! Fire!" It was to his men's credit that there was not a moment's hesitation before they obeyed the bizarre order. As a unit they rotated to the right, sweeping a stream of pulse cannon fire around with them. And there were the Minbari, just where he predicted they would be, and already lining up on an attack run.

Their formation broke as they scattered around the storm of pulse cannon fire coming from Black Omega. For just a moment his sensors registered one of the Nials, though it never approached anything like an actual weapons lock. And then it dropped off, as the Nials increased the distance again, looking for easier prey. The Nials wove through a complicated pattern, for a moment facing back towards Black Omega, and a set of green beams speared through Black Omega 5, from well outside the range of the squadron's return fire. Lieutenant Sally Kominsky, telepath and former Psi-cop, didn't even get a chance to scream.

Bester cursed. Another dead telepath. A friend as well, but any telepath was worth any ten mundanes. How many more would he lose against these accursed Minbari? If they could take out his own fighters from beyond the range of his own weapons...then Combat Box was a death trap. "Black Omega, go full evasive! Stay with your wingmen! Ironheart, on me!" Ensign Ironheart in Black Omega 6 had been Kominsky's wingman. Bester wasn't going to leave the rookie uncovered.

The squadron broke out of Combat Box and into four pairs and a trio of Starfuries, each grouping separately going into wild gyrations, trying to make it harder for the Minbari to get in a shot. Bester craned his head wildly, as did each of the pilots, all trying to get a visual on the Minbari fighters. Their sensors were all but useless, and the squadron had drifted away from the other squadrons and the warships. He was about to order the unit to reclose on the Lexington, which could offer far better covering fire than the Nova, when Black Omega 8 called out, "Bandits! Bearing one-six-five by five-two!"

They're coming right up our tails, Bester thought. "Thach Weave, now," he ordered. It was an old maneuver, in which two or more craft would regularly intersect and cross their paths, in an attempt to get an enemy to focus on a single craft, allowing that craft's partner to gain an advantageous position to attack the enemy. It was a lot easier to pull off within an atmosphere, but it could be done using the pure Newtonian maneuvering necessary in vacuum. No, what really made the move challenging to pull off was incorporating Ironheart into the maneuver. But Black Omega was well trained, and Ironheart knew how to slot himself into the modified maneuver.

The Weave successfully initiated, Bester returned to scanning the heavens desperately, trying to spot the Minbari flight. I won't lose any more telepaths! He still hadn't spotted them when his sensor display pinged, having detected an object on a rapid approach. A split second later, two more contacts were detected, flying in a loose Vic formation with the first. They were headed right for Ironheart. Based on what little information the sensors were able to provide, his only hope of keeping Ironheart alive would be to turn a sharp ninety degrees to starboard and fire a full salvo, hoping to hit something. He had bare moments to do so but… Something's wrong, he thought. He felt… He felt… He heeled over to port at maximum rotation, bringing the nose up just a little and firing. A Nial was there, and the sensors still showed it in a slightly different location. He saw the pulse discharges from his cannon salvoes strike the Nial once, twice, three times, and the Minbari fighter broke apart. Black Omega spun, trying to hit the remaining two Minbari as they swept past and faded into the distance. The squadron hadn't taken a single hit this time.

How had he done that? Bester wracked his mind, trying to understand just what had happened. He didn't have visual contact, and sensors had told him the Nial was in a different location, but somehow he had known exactly where it would be. He scanned his computer readouts, and his secondary sensor inputs. Perhaps he had subconsciously noticed some sensor discrepancy which had tipped him off.

He began rapidly flipping through the various sensor readings, and the diagnostics on the systems. A Starfury was a massively complex beast, and there was just so much...he flipped his fighter into a backwards rotation of over one hundred and thirty degrees, and fired again. He discharged his pulse cannons, and this time fired off a pair of missiles as well. The Nial was so close he should have been able to see the pilot. His pulse discharges splashed off it's armored belly, but both missiles, fired blind and with no targeting data at all, impacted directly on it's nose. The Minbari fighter blew apart in a brilliant fireball. Bits of the craft pelted his Starfury like a vicious hailstorm.

What the hell was going on?

Bester inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. His computer read him a litany of minor damage. His comms crackled with cheers, orders from the Lexington, contradictory orders from the Nova, queries from his pilots, congratulations from the other squadrons. Commander Alfred Bester shut it all out. He took all of the sensory input and walled it away into a tiny pocket within his mind. And then he listened. He listened to his body. He listened to his mind. And then he reached out with his mind and listened beyond. Listening.

He snapped his fighter into another sharp bank, starboard and upward this time. He could hear his engines groaning, having taken shrapnel damage from the nearby explosion. Without opening his eyes, he triggered off a pair of missiles and fired his pulse cannons. His starfury jerked, flashing red warning lights piercing his eyelids, accompanied by damage alerts and sirens.

He opened his eyes and beheld, directly in front of him, the final Nial. It was charging directly at him, doubtless seeking vengeance for it's two destroyed companions. It's last salvo had sheared off his port ventral wing, arresting his rotation. Time seemed to slow down for Bester. He saw the Nial slide between his two missiles, his pulse cannon fire splashing off it's heavily armored prow. This is it, he thought, this is how I die. The Nial fired another salvo, two of it's green beams sliding past his starfury, the third mangling his starboard dorsal wing...just as his Pulser fire finally caved in it's bow, and the whole vessel erupted into a fireball.

A fireball that was already so close, it rolled over his own vessel. The damage alerts redoubled, and his entire craft groaned and lurched from multiple impacts of large pieces of debris. His entire canopy spider webbed under a single large impact. And then the fireball was past and he found himself alive, and cheers reverberated over his comms. His fighter was even still functional enough to get him to the nearby Nova. More importantly, he had the key.

Well now, he thought to himself, isn't that interesting.

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Applause broke out all around the bridge. "Report," Sheridan commanded quietly. He was having a hard time crediting what he had just seen.

"All three enemy fighters destroyed, Captain." Takashima turned to face him as she delivered her report. All three kills credited to Black Omega Leader." She said it with awe in her voice. Nobody got three kills against the Minbari. Nobody. Not even Commander Sinclair had accomplished that. This would raise Commander Bester's reputation nearly to that of Captain Sheridan's. She shook herself out of her contemplation, and continued her report. "Nine starfuries lost in the battle. Five more heavily damaged, including Black Omega Leader. He's making his way here, as are the other damaged, for docking. We're sending out shuttles, as two of those vessels will need to be towed in."

Sheridan nodded curtly and said, "Good. Once all craft have been recovered, set course to catch up to the fleet, maximum thrust. We can hope there aren't other Minbari vessels en route, but let's not stick around to find out. Have Commander Bester report to me in Briefing Room 2 as soon as he is aboard. I'll be very interested in what he has to say."

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Captain John Sheridan sat in Briefing Room 2, staring at the bulkhead. As he waited, he found himself thinking about General Lefcourt. How would the fleet be doing if the man had survived? Would he have approved of the Council of Captains, and how they had been handling things? Probably not. Would he have gotten them past this Minbari cruiser? Who knew? John didn't believe in false modesty, certainly not during moments of personal introspection. He was well aware that he had accomplished things no other human had. If Lefcourt had remained in charge, he might very well have allowed Sheridan to run things exactly as he had. Then again, maybe he would have added orders of his own that might have sealed the Nova's fate. He certainly wouldn't have allowed the Lexington to assist in a gate defense. And he probably would have been correct in that decision, at least, in John's opinion. But it also probably would have meant the certain deaths of John and his crew, and might very well have allowed a successful Sharlin to chase down and eliminate the rest of the fleet.

Mostly, Sheridan just missed the man, and the avuncular manner he had used with John. He was finding it harder and harder to maintain his initial rage and anger at the man's suicide. He had respected the General a great deal, and felt more confusion now than anything else. He just couldn't reconcile the suicide with the vibrant, indomitable man who had driven this project through every difficulty which had arisen. Could it have been an accident? But that would have required the General to be playing with a loaded gun like some kind of child, which was just as ridiculous and out of character. John just had to accept that he would probably never know, and that even if he did, he probably wouldn't like the answer. He hoped that someday he would be able to look back on the General with the fondness and respect he had so recently held.

His mind, considering the loss of Lefcourt, naturally turned to thoughts of Anna. He stepped on that hard. Anna hadn't made it to the fleet, and John simply did not have the time or energy to deal with that loss. The fleet couldn't afford for him to be dealing with the loss. When he had finally realized that there was no doubt she had been left behind, he had taken all thoughts and emotions about her, and jammed them down into a deep, dark corner of his mind. He would not allow them out now. He would have to grieve later, when the fleet was safe. He didn't care if that was a healthy thing to do or not. It was for the good of the fleet.

His ruminations were interrupted as the door slid open, and Commander Bester drifted in. He floated towards the briefing table, affixed to the floor, and sat down without offering a salute to Sheridan. It was clearly a calculated insult, or at least a reminder that, despite their difference in rank, Bester was also a member of the Council of Captains, and just as important as Sheridan.

John ground his teeth in irritation for a moment, but chose to let it pass. There was no point in antagonizing the former Psi-cop. Besides, they had important things to discuss. "It would seem that congratulations are in order Al. Excellent work." There, let the man chew on that. He hoped he hadn't laced too much contempt into the man's name, they were on the same side, after all. But, he had a hard time bringing himself to care about the telepath's feelings.

"Thank you, John," the man replied affably, his face unmoving save for that small smile he so often wore. "And you as well."

Well, Sheridan supposed turnabout was fair play. The man had an excellent poker face. He supposed most telepaths probably did, and particularly ex-Psi-cops. It was time to stop sparring. They had more important things to discuss. "I understand how I defeated the Sharlin. What I don't understand is how you took out those three Nials. No one takes out three Nials. No one."

"The evidence would seem to disagree with that assessment," Bester responded with his small smile.

"How?"

"I suppose I could tell you that it was my god-like piloting skills. But that would be, strictly speaking, only partially accurate."

"And the rest of the reason?"

Bester held his gaze silently for several moments, and then said quietly, "Telepathy."

John's brow furrowed in confusion. Had he heard correctly? "Excuse me?"

"Yes, you did hear correctly. I said telepathy." John narrowed his eyes at the evidence that Bester was reading his mind, but Bester continued before he said anything about it. "Their stealth system does not seem to affect telepathy. My sensors were telling me that an enemy fighter was in one direction, but I could telepathically feel the Minbari in another, slightly different direction. I was even able to get a feel for one when it wasn't showing on my sensors at all."

"You managed to get a weapon's lock...telepathically?"

"Of course not, Captain," Bester said in the same kind of tone he might use for a small, particularly dimwitted child. "A weapon's lock is something for the electrical systems of the Starfury. Telepathy does not affect those in any way. I do seem to recall some rather unsuccessful attempts to link a telepath to a comms system several decades back. Rather foolish attempts which only lead to lost money and damaged telepaths. No, I only got a hint of where they might be, and targeted and fired manually based upon my own knowledge of the propulsion, maneuver, and weapons systems. Hence the god-like piloting skills I referred to a few moments ago." His small smile was back.

John ignored it, leaning back in his seat, and cupping his chin thoughtfully. "Your squadron is all telepaths, correct? Did any of the others pick up on this?"

"Yes, they are, and no, they didn't. It was extremely faint, and easily overlooked in the stress of combat. Especially since it still requires the enemy craft to be somewhat close. But, once I knew what to search for, honing in on their thoughts was a bit easier."

"You could read their minds? Predict their maneuvers?"

"No, not at all. That would require eye contact, and for us to be practically on top of one another. It was just a general feel that there was another mind out there. Of course, once I realized that I could feel for that mind, I also had to screen out my own pilots, and the other nearby humans. It will take a lot of work and skill to make use of this, Captain."

"I suppose so. But we finally have a way to pierce their stealth, other than point blank range and a massive numbers advantage." Sheridan found himself getting excited. This was a limited advantage, but it could very well mean the difference between life and death. "This brings me to another matter, actually. We lost more than another squadron in this battle, and we haven't even gotten out of EA territory yet. Sinclair isn't even starting the training for his pilot recruits until tomorrow. Given both the losses and the intel gathered in this fight, I think we can convince him to train up an additional twelve pilots in this first class. That gives you twenty-four hours to find twelve telepaths capable of being fighter pilots and taking advantage of your new technique. Of course, once they are trained to fly, you'll have to train them in the telepathic technique. For that matter, I suppose you will need to work with Commander Sinclair to come up with combat tactics designed to make the best use of this ability. Can you do all that?"

Bester hesitated for a moment, then said, "Yes, Captain, I believe I can. As for recruits, I believe this method of detection will most likely require powerful, high level telepaths. Between that and a need to find disciplined volunteers in only a day, the only way I will fill a squadrons is to pull in former Psi-cops. I want that to be understood in advance, so that it doesn't lead to any...unfortunate misunderstandings."

Sheridan grimaced, but then nodded sharply. "Understood. And thank you, Commander. Well done. Very well done."

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"Through here," Gary McKinney said gruffly, ducking down a darkened side passage. He glanced back at the old fart following him. The well dressed man was clearly accustomed to power and influence, and his accent set off all of Gary's preconceived notions about Earth snobs. He almost reconsidered bringing him to the council. But making contact with this man was going to give him a name.

After that bitch Tessa dumped him, he realized how much her whining about restraint was holding him back. He had once respected her family name and her father's efforts as a lawman, but these days the law was just another method by which the Earthers controlled and exploited them. And now they had taken everything from the few Marsies who had been allowed to survive, and brought the Minbari down on the rest. And despite all that, Tessa was off working for them, trying to follow in her father's footsteps as cop. All she really was, was a fool and a turncoat. And a bitch. He couldn't forget what a bitch she was.

He had begun to preach to anyone who would listen about how they couldn't let the Earthers just run roughshod over them. He had always been good at speaking. It had served him well in college. This time, it had brought him to the attention of the Resistance.

The Mars Resistance had existed for some time, and it had been growing stronger lately as well. They hadn't quite gotten to the point of actually striking out against the Earthers' control institutions, but it was only a matter of time. And then the war had come, and everyone had focused on the Minbari. The Resistance had worked to convince the provisional government to declare independence and neutrality. The Minbari would provide Earth with it's just desserts, and Mars would be free. But those bastards from Earth had screwed them again, particularly the military officers in charge of this fleet.

They had kidnapped a huge portion of the Mars population, and in so doing had drawn down the Minbari wrath on Mars. Every single Marsie death could be laid at the feet of these fools. But, in abducting the people of Mars, they had also reeled in a significant portion of the Resistance. The organization had been torn to shreds and scattered across the fleet. Just figuring out who was here, where they were at, and reconstituting the lines of organization and communication, not to mention leadership, had taken a good deal of time. It was still under way, really. But, the ruling council was in place, and they were starting to gather in new members. Like Gary.

The Resistance was growing. Rapidly. The formal structures which had held them in check on Mars were gone, replaced by a military police structure which as yet seemed unaware of them, or at least wasn't paying attention to them. Certainly, plenty of Marsies were now part of the brotherhood of humanity movement which blamed everything on the Minbari. Broadcasting the Minbari attack on Mars had been a master stroke for whatever Earther had thought of it. But there were still plenty of Marsies who knew who the real enemy was.

No, the real challenge for the Resistance, at least for the moment, was that they were scattered amongst all of these fragging ships. And in every ship, they were a minority. In a word, they were contained. They needed to grow, which they were doing, and they needed allies, of which they currently had none.

The rapid growth was an opportunity for Gary. He was one of the first of the new recruits from the fleet. He had already brought in many additional members. His influence was growing. He wanted to be on the council. And this man would get him there. The Resistance might finally have an ally. Gary wasn't quite sure whether he had found the man, or if the man had found him. Either way, this meeting was a risk, but it was far too much of an opportunity to pass up, for either Gary or the Resistance.

They ducked down another dark corridor, and finally came to what appeared to be a broom closet. In point of fact, it was a broom closet. However, a door had been installed and cleverly concealed in the back of it, leading to a rarely used maintenance space near the outer hull of the ship. The room was lit by a single dim lantern. Over half the council was present, which was a huge logistical feat in and of itself, given how each council member represented one of the large passenger liners of the fleet, and almost all twenty had an assigned council member. Moving that many people surreptitiously around the fleet was not easy.

As Gary and the old man entered the room, the council members formed a loose semicircle around them. They were each wearing dark, workmen like clothing, loose in a gender obscuring way. Well, except for one rather voluptuous woman off to the side. From what Gary could see, she would probably have to be wearing a main battle tank in order to obscure those generous curves. Each of the council members also wore a darkened visor, fully obscuring their faces. As far as Gary knew, no one knew was aware of their identities. He wasn't even certain they knew each other's identities.

Several of their heads swiveled in Gary's direction, clearly expecting him to withdraw, now that he had delivered their guest. He pretended not to notice. He had made the contact. He had arranged the meeting. He had accepted almost all of the risks. He was not going to allow them to separate him in their minds from the potential ally. If they asked him to leave verbally, he would comply, but he didn't expect that. It would show a lack of order and cohesion in the ranks that they wouldn't want to show to outsiders. As expected, they turned their attention to their guest.

The man stepped forward. He had proven himself to Gary to be the head of a large, but as of yet unnamed, faction. He had proven he had vast resources and contacts throughout the fleet. Gary would have preferred evidence that the man was not an Earther, but you couldn't have everything.

"Hello, my friends," he said. "I have come to you today, seeking friendship and cooperation. I know you are the Mars Resistance. I know you have a large organization with vast potential. I know that you are seeking liberty, and an end to the oppression of the elites of Earth. I know that you need friends. I want to be one of those friends."

"You seem to know a lot about us," said one of the council members, turning to look at Gary. Gary imagined a glare pointed at him from behind that darkened visor. "But we know nothing about you. We don't give our trust easily, particularly to Earthers."

"Ah, but you see," responded the man, his tidily cropped mustache twitching with mirth, "I am just like you. My organization and I, like you, have been oppressed by the elites of Earth. And we both have been lied to. Yes, I know you are familiar with many of the lies told by the elites, but here is one you may not be aware of. You have been told that the people of Earth despise you and exploit you. This is not the case."

The man looked around, giving them all a gentle, fatherly smile. "My people were told similar lies. The people of Earth do not hate you, nor do they reap any benefits from your oppression. They are merely the pawns of the Earth elites. Elites who have oppressed Mars, who have oppressed my people, and who have oppressed the peoples of Earth, even as they have brainwashed them into a weapon to be used against us. The same elites who still control this fleet.

"It doesn't have to be that way, my friends. Your organization and mine can help each other to overthrow those shackles. We can take back our future. We may have to fight against the masses of Earth, but we will actually be doing them a favor. We will be heroes, saving them from an oppression they do not yet even realize they are under. We can all have what we want. We just need to remove those controlling this fleet."

Gary saw the members of the council glance around at each other. A few leaned in to whisper quietly with each other. The council member who spoke up before said, "You talk a good game, Earther. But you still haven't answered the question. Who are you? Who do you represent?"

The old man's smile broadened. "My apologies. My name is Drake, and I represent the Psi-Corp.

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Hyperspace, leaving the Epsilon Eridani system - Exodus Fleet - October, 2248

Susan Ivanova sat nervously in the cramped briefing room with forty-seven other people. As far as she could tell, she was far and away the least experienced person in the room, as well as the most isolated. She didn't care, however. She was going to get to be a Starfury pilot, just like Ganya. That was worth any level of isolation. She still had no idea why she was selected, but she wasn't going to take the risk of asking questions.

She looked around at the other pilots. They had formed into four separate groups. The first, and most relaxed looking was a group of twelve, she supposed that meant they were a squadron, active military pilots. She had overheard a few of them comparing experience, and they seemed to be shuttle pilots. She wasn't sure if that applied to all of them, a couple of whom actually appeared to be sleeping!

The next, and by far the most boisterous, group appeared to be civilian pilots. From their bragging, it seemed that some were ex-military, and quite a few were stunt pilots. The third group, of which she was a part, were all cadets. They looked at her with suspicion, however. They were all seniors, and she was the only sophomore. However, she had transferred into the academy from college after Ganya's death, so they were actually the same age.

The final group was made up of telepaths, of all things. She had sat as far from them as possible. And she was far from the only one in the room viewing them with suspicion. If this wasn't probably her only chance to be a pilot, she would have gotten up and walked out. But any amount of stress was worth it for this opportunity. The telepaths were quiet and reserved, yet confident and disciplined. They didn't even look at the rest of the trainees, but seemed to look down on them at the same time. If Susan didn't know better, she would have pegged them for Psi-cops.

The side door opened, and Commander Sinclair, glided into the room. He launched himself towards the lectern, and then grabbed it, swinging himself to a halt behind it. He looked out at each of the trainees, barking, "Attention on deck."

Susan grabbed the desk in front of her and bolted to her feet, into a rigid posture of attention. Her grip on the desk kept her from floating away in the zero g environment. All of the other cadets did likewise, as did the active duty pilots. Only two or three of the civies did, probably the former military folks. The rest of them looked around in confusion. Not a single telepath stood up.

Sinclair scowled. "That means 'get on your feet', children! That's a little trickier in zero g, but if you are in this room you are expected to have both the skill and know how to fall into an attention stance without floating across the room and braining yourself on the nearest bulkhead." The Commander waited while the remained of the room climbed to their feet. "You are joining the Earth Force Fighter Corps, boys and girls, not some after school club. Seats." This time, the entire room managed to sit in unison, not a single person embarrassing themselves by floating up or away in the zero-G conditions.

Once they were all seated, Sinclair continued, "Real Pilots refer to me as the CAG, which means Commander of the Space Fighter Group, even though the acronym no longer fits. When speaking to me, they just say Commander Sinclair. Until I graduate you, you may refer to me as "God". You have all flown before, except for you Cadet Ivanova, but you're about to enter a whole new world, so pay attention. We've got some pretty good flight simulators with the fleet, but you folks are supposed to be a cut above any future recruits we may elect to train. You all have at least some experience and, frankly, you're needed on the firing line. We haven't even left Earth Alliance space yet, not quite, and we're already down over four squadrons of our Starfury pilots. In case you're wondering, that's as close to fifty percent of our starting force as makes no difference. We need replacements, and we need them now. So we're putting you in the cockpit... today."

Susan felt the pit of her stomach drop out. She had never flown a single air or spacecraft in her life, not on her own anyway. Apparently, she was the only one in the room to suffer that limitation. And the Commander was still going to put her behind the stick of a Starfury...today? Even some of the more experienced pilots in the room looked intimidated. She just wanted to crawl under the desk and hide.

Oblivious and probably indifferent to Susan's concerns, the Commander was continuing his briefing. He had turned to a large display screen on the wall behind him. It now lit up with a large image of a Starfury, it's most important components labeled. "This is a SA-23E Mitchell-Hyundyne Starfury, Mark 2. It's as maneuverable as a jackrabbit and can flip end for end in 0.62 seconds. A very few of you have been lucky enough to pilot the Mark 1. Some others have experience with high performance stunt craft. None of you have ever flown anything that truly compares to it, so don't think that you have. Today we will be doing basic launch, approach and landing maneuvers. Anyone not paying attention is liable to end up as a puddle of something to be hosed out of the cockpit by the hangar Chief."

One of the civilians, and attractive young woman with hispanic features, murmured to the man next to her, "He's laying it on a bit thick, don't you think?" The man, clearly former military glared at her.

Sinclair scowled at her as well. "Castillo, isn't it?"

"Yes, God, sir," she replied with a smirk.

"Not any more. From now on, your name is 'Wise Ass', and when God speaks, Wise Ass, you listen. We don't often use call signs. We usually refer to each other by squadron slot, or even last name. But when you earn yourself a call sign, good or bad, it takes an act of God to get it removed. Sit up." Sinclair turned back to the schematic. "The Mark 2 Starfury is armed with dual Copeland JC44 Pulse Discharge cannons, seen here, and eight external hardpoints, capable of mounting a significant variety of munitions. You will learn them all. You will learn to inspect them all. You will learn to mount them all. You will learn the strengths, weaknesses, and optimal uses of each and every one of them, as well as those of the Starfury herself. And when I am done with you, you will fly like the angels." He turned back to the image of the Starfury, continuing to point out it's most important features.

Frag me, Susan thought to herself. I'm gonna be a pilot!