Chapter 7 - Raiders and Roadblocks

Quadrant 37, Narn Space - Exodus Fleet - November, 2248

Catherine Sakai busily ran through all of the subsidiary sensor sweeps, trying to stay awake. The fleet was spilling into the space around them, once again taking up residence in the outskirts of the system, trying to avoid detection. Trying equally to avoid annoying the Narn. This time, they were way out at the far edges of the local Kuiper Belt.

The Eratosthenes had been in system for over fifteen hours, running scan after scan, and coordinating the Starfury sweeps, all to ensure that no one waited in ambush. There had been signs of neither Minbari nor Narn, nor even civilian traffic. She had been issued a new twist on her previous orders; she now had to try to watch for raiders and pirates flying civilian or antiquated military craft. That made an already difficult job even more complicated. Most of the sensor returns from the Starfuries and the Eratosthenes's own sensor suites fed back to her systems. She was in charge of directing, organizing, and interpreting it all.

At least, that was her job today. Given the long range nature of an Explorer class vessel, most of the crew had cross trained for several positions. It helped to keep the level of tedium down. Of course, that wasn't the case for the batch of cadets they had received to help "relieve" them. Those cadets weren't really trained for any position, and now she had to spend time training rookies, in addition to all her other duties. A back handed favor, to be sure.

Still, it meant that she might actually get some leave in the foreseeable future. It would be a real challenge to try to coordinate her leave with Jeffrey's, so that they could spend some actual time together, rather than just a stolen minute or two on comms, every other day or so. That was the kind of challenge worth taking, though.

Exhausted, she realized the sensor checks she was running weren't particularly important. They were the kinds of sweeps they ran during peacetime, when every priority wasn't being given over to avoiding detection and annihilation. She thought about running the primary scans again, but she was frankly tired of staring at those numbers again and again. Besides, the book said that after the main scans were completed, you ran the subsidiaries. Not to mention the fact that it would give her something novel to do, to help her stay awake.

Only able to keep half her mind on the sensors, it took her a moment to notice the flashing light, indicating the sensors had gotten a hit. She jumped in her seat, reaching to hit the alarm. Wait, she thought, that's not a ship they're detecting. It was the subsidiary sensors. And they were registering a hit. A big hit. She didn't recognize the code, and had to look it up in the ship's computers. Holy frag!

"Captain?" she called, looking to Levitt. "You're going to want to see this.
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Sheridan walked into the conference room aboard the Olympic. Seeing as he was the first to arrive, he began a series of stretches, enjoying the feel of spin replicated gravity pulling against his muscles. There were more twinges there than there should have been. He needed to set aside more time to spend under spin. Well, that was a requirement now, so what he really needed to do was stop avoiding it.

Levitt walked in. John noticed that she seemed completely oblivious to the spin. Well, that made sense. She had it every day. Must be nice. If the Captains had been more experienced, he might have suggested that they rotate ships, so that each of them could be under spin part of the time, and so that each of them served a term commanding the Nova and the Eratosthenes, the two most dangerous slots in the fleet. The Eratosthenes was always the first ship into a new system. The Nova was always the last ship out. "What's the emergency?" he asked. "What's so important that the council needed to meet again so soon, even before we make the announcement about Lefcourt?"

She smiled back. "It's not an emergency. It's an opportunity. But let's wait until the others arrive."

Over the next few minutes they did so, several of them showing a bit of strain, and no small amount of pleasure, under the effects of spin. Finally, Sinclair called the meeting to order.

"Let me start by noting that the announcement of Lefcourt's death will be made approximately thirty-six hours from this time. The plan is to be nonspecific as to both the cause of death and the timing. A funeral will be held three days after that, with a closed casket. If anyone inquires into either the cause of death or the timing, we will note that the information is currently restricted, citing martial law. We can make the facts public once we've finished our journey. Does anyone have any concerns?"

When none were forthcoming, he turned to Levitt. "Well then, this is your show Commander. You have the floor."

Levitt arose and walked to the podium. The activated the display panel on the wall behind her. It displayed what appeared to be a large, lumpy asteroid. It looked a lot like a potato. "This planetesimal is one of the nearby KBOs. It's a little less than two AU from our current position. As of right now, it is the single largest source of Quantium 40 humanity has on record." That note caused some surprised murmurs in the room, but Levitt continued, "detailed scans have noted several massive veins, some running along the surface. With minimal effort, we could scoop up sufficient Q40 from the surface to replenish nearly 10% of the stocks we gave to the Narn. There are a half dozen other KBOs nearby that have similar, if substantially smaller, deposits."

"Define minimal effort," Sheridan said.

"I mean we wouldn't have to break out any of the heavy mining equipment we have with. Many of the civilian ships are setup for collecting minerals from asteroids, or even asteroid mining. We could put them to use during the two or three days we were planning on doing standard maintenance inspections, making sure that all of the ships are prepared for the next leg of hyperspace. We'd lose a day at most, and in the end we could recoup fifteen to twenty percent of our Q40 stocks."

"Holy hell," Garibaldi breathed. "How did the Narn possibly miss something like this?"

"We're way out in the Kuiper Belt, remember?" Levitt answered. "It takes a lot of effort to survey out this far, generally for not a lot of reward. And the Narn really just got here. It looks like they started setting up this base when Earth fell. Before that it was kind of in a no man's land between the Narn and Centauri. I suppose the Centauri could have found it when they had solid control of the system, but that was back during their expansionistic phase, when they were more interested in conquering new worlds and new species for resources, rather than doing the hard work of exploring the bleeding outskirts of their own systems. There's a hell of a lot of open space out here. For that matter, it's practically blind luck that we stumbled across this ourselves."

"What about the Narn?" Lochley asked.

"What about them?" Sheridan returned.

"This is their system. Aren't these technically their Quantium 40 deposits? They might have a problem with us helping ourselves to their Q40."

"They had no problem helping themselves to ours," Garibaldi said in some amusement. "And they have no idea this is here. They're doing their best to ignore us, to give themselves plausible deniability if the Minbari come calling. They probably won't even notice what we're doing. But if they do happen to show up, what have we done, other than to significantly increase their Q40 reserves? We'll just say 'you're welcome' and move along."

"I like it," Sinclair said. "Any objections?" As there were none, he didn't bother calling the vote, simply saying, "Then let's get started."

They began to shuffle out. As they did, Lochley called out, "Lieutenant Commander Gideon, could I ask a favor of you?"

"Certainly," he said, turning back to face her. Garibaldi and Sinclair, stepped around him, still heading for the door.

"I'm thinking about taking some of my leave here on the Olympic. I've never been aboard before, and since you were here arranging for this conference room, I thought maybe you could give me a quick tour, show me some of the ins and outs."

"The ins and outs, huh?" he asked, doing his best to hide a grin as Levitt also stepped around him. "Certainly. Happy to be of service."
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Ensign Susan Ivanova awoke, disoriented, in her ready room aboard the Mother, disheveled in her flight suit. Damnit, did I fall asleep again? It was the third time she had awoken with no clear memory of falling asleep, or even how she got there. Was she sleepwalking? Was that even possible in zero G? Maybe I should see the doctor.

That wouldn't really help, though, because she knew exactly what any good doctor would say. More sleep. Less stress. They might even prescribe some sleep aids. Unfortunately, she was too damned busy to get any more sleep. Her stress wasn't going to drop anytime soon, and sleep aids might dull her effectiveness. She certainly wasn't going to allow any doctor to put her flight status in jeopardy or, God forbid, actually ground her.

When was she supposed to find time to sleep? She was an active pilot now, and the flight rotation was punishing, requiring long hours on patrol, trying to keep the fleet safe. But Sinclair hadn't graduated her class yet, and she still had to spend a good deal more time in the cockpit and in simulators, going through his training sessions. At least that should be over in a week or two, which should provide some relief for both her fellow classmates and her. No relief for Commander Sinclair, though. He would go right into training another batch of pilots.

On top of her pilot duties, she was still a cadet. It was completely ridiculous, but the few professors remaining expected her to keep up with her class studies. She had to read text books for crying out loud. She was positive Lieutenant Commander Gideon wouldn't have to read text books. It was completely unfair.

And beyond even that, she still had to train as a telepath. And her trainers were a pair of tittering...well, no, they weren't airheads. They were very diligent, supportive, and understanding in her training. What's more, they were quickly becoming very good friends. But they insisted she spend any available time she had honing her extremely limited telepathic abilities. And then, as well meaning friends, they demanded she carve out yet more time while they took her out to "relax," and tried to hook her up with cute telepaths. Talia was the worst. Just because she was in a relationship, she wanted all of her friends to be in one as well. Even Lyta was starting to get annoyed by it.

As for stress, it wasn't like she didn't have plenty to stress her, even aside from the punishing workload. She had lost her brother, her parents, and everyone else she loved back on Earth. She was now partially responsible for the survival of the whole human race. She had been outed as a telepath, and her entire life had been upended yet again. She no longer fit amongst the normal humans, and she was too new and weak to fit amongst the telepaths. And then there was the fact that she had recently witnessed the aftermath of a raider attack on a civilian vessel. What little sleep she did get was often filled with visions of frozen little bodies, floating in the void. Yeah, nothing to stress about there.

And on top of all that, now there was the news about General Lefcourt's death. The details were sparse, but the rumor mill said it had been a stroke...due to stress. The entire fleet was in chaos over that. It left Captain Sheridan in command, so at least that was something. If anyone could get them away from the Minbari, it would be him. The only human to receive a moniker from the Minbari...Starkiller. She thought he should embrace it, rather than trying to suppress its usage. No, Sheridan was the best choice, other than Lefcourt himself. But he was just so young for such a role.

Her musings were interrupted as Ironheart bolted into to room. "There you are! What are doing? We've got to get strapped in, there's been another raider attack!" Rather than responding, Susan rose and darted for her Starfury at top speed. Ironheart continued to fill her in along the way. "They hit two of the ships doing the Q40 mining. One went up like a roman candle. We think it did significant damage to the raiders attacking it, given some of the debris found. The other one was torn open, just like the last time, and the ore they had collected stolen. They reached the hangar bay, and both rapidly went through preflight checks. They were the last members of the squadron to depart. How long was I out? You'd think I'd at least feel less tired. They launched and went to full burn to catch up with the squadron.

"Nice of you two to join us." Black Omega Leader commed, unflappable as always. "I do hope we're not interrupting your busy social calendars."

Susan opened her comm. "No, sir. Sorry, sir. My fault. No excuse." Best she take responsibility. It certainly wasn't Ironheart's fault.
Bester didn't read her the riot act, simply saying, "Fall into position. We've got work to do."

Over twelve hours and a very frustrating search later, the hunt was finally called off. There had been no sign of the raiders, save the destroyed vessels and more spaced bodies, but while they had been searching, another civilian transport, on the opposite end of the fleet, had been hit. Gold Alpha squadron had responded to that one. Most of those raiders had gotten away clean as well, but one had tarried too long, trying to collect just a little more loot, and had been caught by an edge of range missile shot from Gold Alpha Leader.

Sheridan had ordered the warships to split up and move in close to directly cover each of the mining sites. Their big guns would ensure no more raider attacks on the mining vessels. The rest of the fleet was to stay packed together, close to the warships, while the Starfury squadrons maintained the perimeter. But that would be someone else's job. At least now the civilians should be safe.

"Back to the barn," Bester ordered. "Get a meal and some sleep. And for God's sake Ironheart, clean up. When's the last time you vibed? I can smell you across the vacuum."

"Eau de Ironheart, sir. A well cultivated musk. Drives the ladies wild."

This comment was met with a series of groans across the squadron net, but Bester responded, "I have no doubt. I see them jumping out the airlocks."

Even Susan found herself chuckling, but the mirth quickly faded and the exhaustion set in. All she would take away from this mission was more lost sleep, and another set of images to haunt her dreams.
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Jux Prime, Centauri Space - Exodus Fleet - November, 2248

Five hyperspace vortices blossomed into the void, and a fleet began spilling out. At the head of that fleet, all five Earth Force warships, all that remained of a once mighty navy, sprinted out, forming a perimeter to guard the following civilians. A horde of Starfuries dropped off their racks, flinging themselves into space to ensure nothing could slip through that perimeter.

Sheridan watched the deployment from the Nova's bridge. It had been decided to change the way they did system entries, at least in this instance. They had been lucky, detecting the hyperspace gravity shadow of a gas giant in the system. They'd jumped directly into the real shadow of the planet, using its bulk to shield them from prying eyes deeper into the system. Jux Prime was known to be only lightly patrolled by the Centauri. Their hope was to get in, quickly do any maintenance or repairs any of the civilian vessels required, make sure no one was around, then make a dash to the nearby jump gate and get out. They'd be onto the next leg of the journey, with hopefully no Centauri the wiser.

He smiled, as everything seemed to be going like clockwork. The jump windows had closed, and repairs were well under way. Stealthed sensors detected no sign of the Centauri, or anyone else. It was a little risky to rush this way, but if they could keep up the pace they could get the fleet moving in less than another hour. That speed would pay safety dividends of its own. Thank goodness, he thought. The last thing we need is a repeat of Quadrant 24 and that damned Ambassador...

"Jump points forming!" Takashima called, interrupting his thoughts. "Ships emerging….we have three Centauri Battlecruisers...Primus class."

Well, so much for that hope. The best laid plans…

"They're signaling the fleet."

"Open a channel. Punch it through to the main display." He waited for a moment while the officer at comms complied, and then blinked in surprise as he recognized the man looking back at him from the vid screen. "Ambassador Mollari? Ahh...it's an honor to see you again, sir."

"Have we met? Ahh, yes. Forgive me Commander Shepard. It is indeed a pleasure to meet the Hero of Earth again. I'm quite surprised you're not dead. You seemed like the type to go out in a glorious last stand, yes?"

"It's Captain now, sir. Captain Sheridan."

"Yes, I remember now. Don Sheridan, my apologies. Perhaps you should just stick with Starkiller, and make it easier on all of us."

Sheridan held back a sigh and chose not to correct the Ambassador again, instead plastering a smile on his face. "Just Captain will be fine, sir. What can I help you with, Ambassador?"

"This is clearly the wrong question, Captain. You should instead be asking how I can help you, impolite as that would be. And the answer, Captain, is that I can and will happily provide you with directions, as you are clearly lost. It seems you have wandered into Centauri territory by mistake. Oh," he added, now showing a bit of irritation, "perhaps I can also provide you with a watch, Captain. You are terribly late. Do you have any idea how tiresome it has been, sitting here waiting for you?"

"You were expecting us, Ambassador?" John asked in confusion.

"Let us just say that the Centauri generally keep a rather close watch on Narn space. For their own good of course. Those poor Narn are positively hopeless at keeping an eye on things."

The conversation trailed off for a moment while John searched for something to say. "Of course sir. But you see, it was no mistake that lead us here, Ambassador. We are not seeking asylum from the Centauri, have no fears in that regards. We merely wish to officially request the right of passage through your territory, to your opposite border."

"No."

The response was so immediate that it took John a moment to process it. "Ambassador Mollari, Centauri space has always been open to travel and trade. Humanity in particular has enjoyed a mutually beneficial relationship with the Centauri in this regard."

"And will you now claim to be a convoy of merchants, Captain?"

"There are certainly a large number of merchants with us. I have no doubt that if you scan our registries, you will find many vessels which have traded profitably with the Centauri in the past."

"Yes, very clever Captain," Mollari responded. "But that is not all you are, is it?"

John ground his teeth for a moment, then forced himself to say affably, "No, certainly not Ambassador. We are, in fact, a refugee fleet, fleeing from the destruction of our nation, our homeworld, and our species. But that's not all it has to be. The relationship between our two peoples has been beneficial to both. It still can be. All we ask is the right of passage."

"No. I am sorry, Captain. You will need to turn back. The Centauri Republic will not allow your refugees in."

"But we're not looking for refuge, Ambassador. We're not looking for charity. We won't ask a thing of you, save the right to pass in peace. A right your government has afforded to humanity by long tradition."

"No." Mollari made the world very clear and distinct, though he said it without rancor.

"Ambassador," John said, almost desperately, "do you understand what we are leaving behind? What we may be facing if we turn back?"

"Yes," Mollari said softly, almost regretfully, drawing the word out. "I understand very well. What I understand most of all," he said, finally showing some emotion, "is what you are bringing with you; what, in fact, you are likely dragging along behind you. I will not allow you to give the Minbari cause to view the Centauri with hostility or suspicion. I will not allow you to drag my people into your foolish war. I will not allow you to use my people, my Republic, as a shield against the monster you created! I warned your people, Captain. I did my best to stop that foolhardy mission. What happens now is on your own heads."

John sighed, "What do you want, Ambassador?" They had only recouped a bit of their Quantium 40 supplies, but they had plenty of other valuable trade stuffs, enough to ransom a kingdom. It might very well beggar them, but he would spend it gladly.

"What do I want?" the Ambassador barked. "What do I want? I can't believe I am still surprised by the sheer mass of human arrogance. It's astonishing your egos don't all collapse into individual singularities. I assure you, Captain, you have nothing that would ever convince me to put my people at risk in this way."

"Please, Ambassador," John begged, his voice tense with emotion.

"Captain," he said softly, "I am sorry." He paused for a moment, and then said in a louder voice, "You have twelve hours to exit Centauri space. After that point, any ship remaining will be destroyed."

"You wouldn't," John hissed. "That's an act of war."

"No. In order for it to be an act of war, you would need to have a nation to go to war against. This would just be...pest removal, yes?"

"We won't go down easily."

"Of course," Mollari said dismissively. "Your mighty dreadnought, and all those fighters you are so proud of. It might actually be concerning, if you weren't facing three Centauri battlecruisers. Your dreadnought might last a minute or so against that level of firepower. Your heavy cruiser will be gone in the first salvo. Meanwhile, I believe you will discover that Centauri strike fighters are more than a match for your Starfuries. However, let me draw your attention to the twelve Vorchan warships which are currently surrounding your fleet. The moment hostilities open, Captain, let me assure you, they will eradicate your civilian vessels. Please go, Captain. There is nothing here for you."

"You would do that?" John demanded. "You would wipe us out?"

"I would regret it, Captain. It would haunt me for the rest of my life. But, if given the choice a thousand times, not once would I hesitate. Goodbye, Captain. Your twelve hours begin now." The comm channel was cut from the Centauri end, and the screen reverted to displaying the image of the three battlecruisers.

John stared straight ahead, doing his best to maintain an air of stoicism. He felt sick inside. Silence reigned. Everyone on the bridge bent studiously to their tasks, doing their best to pretend they hadn't noticed a thing. He appreciated that, but the clock was ticking. "Contact the captains of all ships," he ordered. "Make preparations to return to hyperspace. Set course...back to Quadrant 37.
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Epsilon Eridani, Former Earth Alliance Space - Minbari Fleet - November, 2248

The remains of a Sharlin floated silently in the void, only a short distance from the local jumpgate. The floating, spinning detritus slowly dispersed out into the system. Aboard the nearest Sharlin cruiser, the Grey Council silently reviewed the enormous holographic display which encompassed them, showing the wreckage of the once mighty cruiser.

Coplann grimaced at the image. "Another destroyed ship. Another dead crew. Starkiller has much for which to answer."

"Starkiller?" Delenn asked placidly. "How can you be sure it was him?"

"Who else, Delenn? Who else amongst the humans has ever hurt us like this? Who else amongst the humans even has military vessels left? I can tell just from what I see that this was done at close range, from behind. It was almost certainly while our ship was transitioning the jump gate. An ambush."

"Why did they not use their jump engines to enter the system? Would that not have prevented the ambush?"

"Very astute, Delenn," Coplann said in surprise. "Yes, the Alyt in charge clearly made a tactical error. I have no idea why he would have done such a foolish thing, but it cost him everything." He took a breath. "Regardless, it is obvious the human fleet came this way. Which means they have left Earth Alliance territory. This system is on the very edge of their space."

"We have not yet located all of their systems. We know several remain lost in hyperspace, with the humans playing their games with the beacons. Could the humans not have gone to one of those."

He grunted, "Unlikely. As far as we can tell, those systems are all on the opposite side of the Earth Alliance. Starkiller would have had to double back and pass through our forces to get to them, all without our noticing. And if he was going there, Delenn, then why would he come here first? No, this is his escape route. He knows that we will find all of those remaining systems eventually. No, the only hope for his people is escape."

"If this is the edge of their territory, then it is over. They have escaped."

"No, Delenn. There can be only two possible outcomes when the Minbari go to war. Victory or defeat. There is no 'they got away.' The answer is simple. We chase them down. They do not have control of the beacons in the areas through which they now pass. We can overtake them quickly. We will search out the humans and eradicate Starkiller and his fleet."

"These are sovereign alien nations," Delenn protested. "We are not at war with them. We have no right to pass through their territory!"

"If they allowed the humans to pass, Delenn, then they have given us the same right."

"And if they refuse us passage? If they stand in our way?"

"Then we move past them...or go through them."

"We have just finished one war, Coplann. I will not allow you to start another."

"The last war is not over, Delenn. Not while Starkiller and his fleet are still out there. Not while Earth Alliance systems are still untouched. And if these aliens move to protect the humans, then it will not be a new war. It will be the same war."

Delenn drew herself up. "I cannot allow…"

"We are here because of you Delenn!" Coplann raised his voice in irritation. "Twice it was you who made the decision to eradicate the humans. You have asked for much from our people, particularly the warriors. This council has honored even your bizarre requests regarding the prosecution of the war. If you wish us to continue to do so, then you will not stand in our way here." He stepped closer to her, gestured to the image of the destroyed Sharlin, and said softly, "Look at that ship, Delenn. That was done by warriors. That was done by Starkiller. By your own prescription for how this war is to be fought, they must be destroyed. Do not further divide this Council by trying to invalidate this duty."

Delenn looked around the Council, and knew she did not have the votes to prevent this. It would not even be close. Returning her eyes to Coplann, Delenn said, "Agreed. Send your warriors forward. But ensure that they make every effort to be respectful of the people through whose territory they pass. Make sure they do not start another war."

Coplann bowed to her. "Of course, Delenn."
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Quadrant 37, Narn Space - Exodus Fleet - November, 2248

The fleet which returned to Quadrant 37 was not the same one which had left it. This fleet was disheartened, and discordant. The military minders weren't doing a good job shepherding their flock. The civilian Captains weren't in much of a mindset to be shepherded anyway.

Commander Sinclair stood on the bridge of the Midway, flanking Gideon sitting in the Captain's chair. Garibaldi stood on his other side. They watched as two full squadrons of Starfuries launched from the Midway. Sinclair wanted more than to just ensure the security of the fleet. Those Starfuries would be a visible reminder to the civilians that the fleet still had order. Had purpose. Had hope.

"Captain Gideon, Mr. Garibaldi, might I have a word in private?" They gave him curious looks, but silently followed him off the bridge and to the nearby meeting room reserved for the Captain. Sinclair floated over to the table and took a seat in front of one of the stations set up for vid conferencing.

Garibaldi closed the door, then both he and Gideon sat. Sinclair gestured for them to be patient for a moment, then activated the comm system. While the two other officers looked on, he punched a message through to the Eratosthenes, asking to speak with her Captain. Shortly, Commander Levitt appeared on the screen. "What's up, Commander?"

"Is your end private, Commander?"

She hesitated, searching his expression, then said, "No, but it can be."

"We'll wait."

"We?"

"I've got Gideon and Garibaldi with me," he said, expanding the view so the other officers could be seen.

"Just a moment." Less than a minute later she was back, the wall behind her slightly different. "So, is there a reason the four of us are meeting without the rest of the Captains?"

"Yes. Because we don't have time for a full Captain's Council, and more argument. The fleet needs us to be decisive and confident now. I think we all know what would happen if we called the Council now. Sheridan would want us to go around the Centauri, and head for the space on their far border. Lochley will want to change direction, and head for Dilgar space. We'd take a vote, and almost half of us would be upset. The fleet doesn't need that tension right now."

Levitt nodded in understanding, but Gideon said, "I'm confused. Isn't this something we need to decide?"

Levitt explained for Sinclair, "Yes, it is. But it isn't something we need to decide right now. Both goals are served by charting a course coreward, through Narn space and into Corillani or even Drazi territory."

"Yes," Sinclair added, "and that course also serves the purpose of getting us farther away from the Minbari, which seems like a good idea, all things considered."

Gideon nodded. "Neither Lochley nor Sheridan will argue when we tell them, because each of them will seem to be getting their way. Or at least, not not getting it. And the fleet get's the decisive leadership it needs right now. I like it. I'm in."

"Me to," Levitt agreed.

"Me three," Garibaldi quipped.

Sinclair sighed. "Then it's decided. I'll contact the other Captains to let them know of our decision. We should all prepare to move out. However, we've done two transits now with minimal maintenance. We need to make sure the smaller civilian craft all get a thorough inspection and any needed maintenance. We don't want to lose people in hyperspace due to carelessness."

"The smaller craft weren't designed for this. They're slowing us down," Garibaldi noted grimly.

"Yes, but they substantially increased the fleet's carrying capacity. Our goal is to get everyone out we can. We won't abandon people because their vessels aren't fast enough. I'll fight against anyone making that suggestion," Sinclair said vehemently.

Garibaldi raised his hands, "Easy, Jeff. I wasn't suggesting any such thing. I do have a question though. Why didn't you invite Bester to this little shindig?"

"Because we didn't need his vote to have a majority of the Captains. And because I don't trust him."
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Susan Ivanova and the five other rookies of her wing spun over hard, decelerating and falling into their assigned slots. Commander Bester had gathered in the squadron for that exact reason. Black Omega had been on station, assisting with fleet security, for several hours. However, the rookie half of the squadron had been in one of Commander Sinclair's training sessions. Probably one of the last ones before they graduated. After Sinclair had dismissed them, they had done a quick refuel and had gone out under full burn to catch up with the rest of the squadron.

"Nice of you to join us for some real work," Bester commented over the squadron net. "Did you kiddies have fun in school?"

"Sure. I got a lollipop for good behavior," Susan commed back, finally starting to feel comfortable with her squad.

"I hope you brought enough for everyone," Ironheart cut in.

"Absolutely. Just pop your seals and walk on over here, and I'll hand you one." That brought a chorus of chuckles over the net. As far as jokes went, Susan knew it was really lousy. But the squadron had been on station for several hours already, and had been pulling similar duty daily for weeks. They were so bored, they'd laugh at anything; a fact Susan appreciated, as she wasn't particularly good at being funny.

"Time to go to work, children," Bester resumed. "Our orders for the next several hours are to perform a long range patrol. Break into pairs and pick a direction. Head out as far as you can until you are Bingo fuel, then return to the barn. Report anything interesting or suspicious." So saying, Bester shot off in a random direction, his wingman dutifully following him.

Susan waited for Ironheart to pick a direction of his own. She noted that he was waiting until everyone else had already picked a heading. He's still deferential to them, she thought to herself. He still doesn't see himself as equal to the other senior pilots, no matter what attitude he displays on the surface.

Ironheart finally picked a direction, and the two of them shot off. The cruised in silence for about a quarter of an hour, just watching sensors, when Ironheart said, "Susan, I'm going to try to initiate telepathic contact with you. See if you can assist in the process."

She repressed an instinctive shudder. She was a telepath now, and would have to deal with it. Instead, she said, "What, through the bulkhead? I thought that was impossible."

"Pull up next to me, so you can kinda see me out of the corner of your eye. Then just try to be open, maybe 'listen' really hard. I'll be doing most of the work."

"Alright," she said, doing as instructed. "Why?"

"Let's just say it might save our lives some day. Other than that, you'll just have to trust me."

They cruised on, working on the contact. Well, thought Susan, at least it's a way to practice telepathy and piloting at the same time. Very efficient.

A few hours later, Ironheart hit Bingo fuel. "Time to head back," he advised.

Susan hesitated. "I'm going to keep going. I want to check out that cluster of asteroids up ahead."

"Are you serious? Susan, you can't go off on your own. Wingmen are supposed to stick together."

"Look, between telepath training, cadet training, active flight operations, and covering for you while you spend 'quality time' with Talia, I'm behind on my pilot training. I've managed to get enough simulator time to cover the combat operations requirements, but I need a few flybys in close proximity to a light gravity source. I've still got a mostly full gas tank, and those asteroids are perfect. I refuse to not graduate from fighter school. I am not going to be stuck repeating the course, losing even more sleep."

Ironheart grunted, then said, "I won't order you to turn back, but I'm going on the record as saying this is a terrible idea. If you get yourself killed, Talia will never speak to me again."

"I didn't get the impression you were interested in her for her conversation skills."

"Funny. Be careful." And with that he heeled over and set course for the Mother. Susan increased her thrust by fifty percent, and headed for the asteroids.

The cluster of asteroids was both larger and farther off than expected. It took another hour before she was close. She started performing some basic maneuvers around the asteroids, looping in and out of them, using their minimal gravity to alter her course just slightly. In combat that could mean the difference between a hit or a miss, or so Commander Sinclair had instructed. She practiced several maneuvers, including a few strafing runs, live firing on inoffensive rock spires.

Apparently she got too close to the raider hiding there. It lit off its engines and took off, running for the next asteroid in an attempt to get behind cover. Ivanova locked in a pursuit course, cursing and lighting up her jammers. It seemed to be alone, probably a scout, but if it got out of jamming range it could report the presence of the fleet back to it's companions, and then more civilians would become targets. "Ivanova to Midway." There was no answer. "Ivanova to Mother." She heard only static on the comms. "Ivanova to any Earth Force craft in range...Ironheart, are you listening." Damn. Maybe it's jamming me as well. She vacillated, still following the raider. If it got around that asteroid she might lose it, but orders were not to get into combat alone. Her first duty was supposed to be reporting this back to the fleet. But if she did that, it would get away, and civilians would probably die because of it. To hell with orders, if that ship brings back a dozen raiders civilians will die. Behind her eyes, the memories rose up of a gutted ship and frozen bodies, some too small to be adults. She kicked her Starfury to maximum acceleration and gave chase.

She slowly closed the distance. "Come on, come on. Come on!" she chanted to herself, her pulse and adrenaline racing. She linked her pulse discharge cannon and fired them simultaneously. A single burst, and the raider in front of her erupted into flame and debris. "Yes!" She tried to regain her composure, taking a deep breath. "Good." She reveled in the feeling of having done something important, of having saved lives. "Good," she said to herself, more softly. Perhaps the world really would turn out alright.

The delta wing shape of another raider appeared on her forward scanner, headed right for her. It was followed by a second, then a third. Then a fourth, fifth, and sixth. In a handful of seconds, her targeting computer had identified fourteen onrushing bogies. Her jaw dropped. "Not good." I need to run, report the threat, she thought, spinning about. Then the images of little bodies, tumbling in the void, reasserted itself. To hell with it. She spun her fighter again, and dove to the attack.
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Ironheart was holding hands with Talia in the hallway outside the pilot's ready room. The scene was too public for them to do much else, but though there was a room handy, they both wanted to be here. They were waiting.

The subject of their wait exited the ready room, nonchalantly putting on her uniform jacket. "There you are," Ironheart said, catching up to her, with Talia in tow. "What happened out there?"

"Nothing," Susan said, looking him in the eye.

"Nothing?" he asked in amusement. "I just got back the repair order on your fighter. It'll be in the shop for a week, minimum. And on top of that I hear you broke regs about engaging in combat without backup."

"It was an educated risk," she said with a small smile. "Sometimes it works out."

"Apparently. They also just updated the pilot rankings. How exactly did you make Triple Ace doing practice maneuvers for class?

Her heart sank. "Triple ace? I didn't realize…"

"That they'd analyze your gun camera footage? Yeah, they tend to do that when you return to base with all eight hardpoints empty and one of your cannon actually missing. You now have more kills than any pilot in the fleet. And I do mean any pilot, not just your class."

"Oh, hell. I don't want to be at the top of the rankings." The other pilots would make her life miserable. They were a highly competitive bunch, and she was the biggest rookie flying.

"Well, technically you're not. The CAG just announced that, given the massive tech advantages, Minbari kills count for five. A single Nial down makes you an Ace. So Commander Bester, having three Minbari kills and just having picked up a pair of Raiders, has you beat in the standings. But he's the only one. You even have the CAG licked."

"Bozhe moi. I do?" she asked meekly.

"He has two Minbari, one raider, and three kills from actions before the war. As of today's new rankings, he is one point shy of you, which only makes him a Double Ace. Which is still a big deal, of course. Nobody else in the fleet has even made Ace. The two other Nial kills we have were both divided up amongst two and three pilots.

"Ensign Ivanova, Lieutenant Ironheart," Commander Bester called, coming up to them. "A moment of your time, please. If you would excuse up please, Ms. Winters." he said to Talia, who promptly fled. Susan looked at Ironheart and asked 'Lieutenant?' telepathically, as they both snapped to attention. She heard 'No idea' in her mind, and felt the mystification of the Ensign standing next to her.

"You've had quite the exciting day today," he said looking them up and down. They had both snapped to attention. "I should be quite livid, though I am not. You'll both want to get cleaned up and ready."

"Ready, Sir?" Susan asked.

"We're due on the Olympic in two hours. Most of the pilots will be there. Those not flying CAP anyway. You, Commander Sinclair, and I will all be receiving commendations for our action in combat, as well as medals for our Ace status. Ironheart, you will indeed be promoted to Lieutenant, along with several other pilots from across the fleet. Captain Sheridan himself will be awarding us. It's really meant to be a morale boost for the whole fleet. The lot of us are really just ancillary to the spectacle. We're meant to be seen as heroes. It's theatre for the mundanes."

His words hit a nerve in Susan. "Don't you think the fleet deserves heroes, Commander?"

He gave his trademark smirk. "Do you see yourself as a hero, Ensign?"

"Me? No, Sir. I'm just a rookie pilot who got lucky. But you? You're definitely a hero, Sir. I don't think anyone else could have taken out three Minbari."

Her response seemed to surprise him. "Okay, Ensign. I'll do my best to be a shining example for the...fleet. Now, you should both get ready for tonight's ceremony. And afterwards, you will both report to the Olympic's kitchens."

"Sir?" Ironheart asked.

"You'll both spend the following eight hours peeling potatoes. Not something which can be done in the zero-G conditions on the Mother. Imagine the mess. Besides, all our potatoes are premashed, in spacer bulbs. We wouldn't want to peel those." His face took on a more serious note. "Consider this a warning, rather than an actual punishment. You don't disregard standing orders in my squadron. You don't go into combat without backup," he said, glaring at Ivanova. He switched his glare to Ironheart. "You don't allow your junior wingman to go gallivanting off. If she needs additional training, then you supervise it. Is that quite clear?"

"Sir, yes Sir!" they barked in unison.

"Now go get changed. You've got a long night ahead of you."

Susan groaned silently. So much for getting any sleep.
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Quadrant 24, Narn Space - Narn Fleet Base - November, 2248

"Wake up, G'Kar! You can sleep later. The Minbari are here!"

Ambassador G'Kar bolted upright, banging his head on the low bulkhead. Wincing, he nodded to his uncle, Warleader G'Sten, and began dressing awkwardly but hurriedly in the zero-G environment of the Bin'Tak class dreadnought Chad'rasha Narn. He had moved to the Chad'rasha Narn upon its arrival in the system. This was the moment they had all been worrying over. "Where are the Minbari now?"

"They are advancing slowly into the system along a broad arc. Five of their war cruisers and five of their escort frigates. They are heading generally for the colony and base."

"Mobilize our welcoming force. I don't want them getting too close to the colony. I will join you on the bridge shortly." G'Sten nodded and left, returning to the bridge.

By the time G'Kar got to the bridge, cursing the lack of gravity, the small task force was already well under way. The Chad'rasha Narn was flanked by a pair of G'Quan class heavy cruisers and four Ka'Toc class destroyers. It was a powerful force, but not overtly hostile. Hopefully that was the right mix to get the Minbari to listen, and then to leave.

"We are headed for their central cruiser," G'Sten advised him, waving at the image of the strangely shaped Minbari vessel centered in the view screen. "Their line stretches across ten light minutes, and they are scanning heavily."

"Get as close as you can. Do not halt forward movement until they do. If possible, get within a few kilometers of their vessel. See if they let you."

"Are you planning on ramming them, G'Kar?"

"I'm planning on seeing who blinks first."

"Excuse me?"

"Just a phrase I picked up on Earth. Ignore it."

The two fleets swept closer and closer to each other. G'Kar felt the tension on the bridge around him steadily increase. Soon they were within one hundred thousand kilometers of the central Minbari vessel.

"Status?" G'Sten asked.

A female at an engineering station responded, "Systems are being impacted by massive sensor emissions from the Minbari. Countermeasures are effective. No degradation in system effectiveness."

A male at the sensors station picked up when she left off, "Minbari continue to advance. Now passing sixty thousand kilometers to central vessel."

"Their gunports?" G'Sten asked.

"Unknown. Their stealth systems are active, so we cannot tell."

The Warleader grunted and turned to his nephew. "It would appear they have learned something from their incident with the humans."

"Let's hope they have learned how not to start a war," G'Kar responded.

They closed to ten thousand kilometers, then a thousand. "Reduce speed by fifty percent," G'Sten ordered. "We want to get close, not collide." They passed one hundred kilometers, and G'Sten ordered the rate of closure decreased yet again. It was not until their separation reached twelve kilometers that the Minbari came to a relative stop. G'Sten ordered an immediate halt, but the range had fallen to nine kilometers by the time the two fleets were stationary relative to each other. As the Minbari line was so broadly spread out, this central cruiser was the only Minbari vessel visible to anything but sensors. Despite this fact, all of the Minbari vessels had come to a relative stop in unison.

G'Sten bent and whispered in G'Kar's ear, "We have a partial weapons' lock on the vessel in front of us. The rest might as well be smoke and shadows, for as much as our systems can read them."

"Open communications," G'Kar ordered, not acknowledging his uncle's words. Within seconds the image of a Minbari appeared on his screen. The man wore the dark uniform of one of their warriors. Better and better, he thought dryly. Outwardly he put on his most pleasant smile and offered a small bow. "Greetings my Minbari friend. I am Ambassador G'Kar of the Narn Regime. And you are?"

"I represent the Minbari Federation. We are hunting a fleet of criminals and barbarians...humans. Have you seen any sign of them, Narn?"

G'Kar noted the Minbari's failure to offer either his name or honorific, as well as to utilize G'Kar's own. Not terribly diplomatic. Is that good or bad? "I'm afraid we haven't. No humans have been this way, Captain…?"

"Alyt. I am the Alyt of this vessel, Narn. It is good to hear that you are not sheltering the humans. No doubt you will not mind if we take a look around, just to ensure they are not hiding from us both? Quite sneaky, these humans."

"We will be happy to keep an eye out for the humans for you, Alyt. But I cannot allow you to bring a military force into our territory. It's not that I don't trust you, you understand, but the safety of my people requires me to be ever cautious."

The Minbari's eyes narrowed. "Do you understand, Narn, that the duty I carry is to uphold the honor of the Minbari? Do you understand that we come seeking vengeance against the animals who cut down our leader when we offered them the honor of a peaceful contact? You expect me to simply take your word that the humans have not and will not be here? How can I entrust you with such a responsibility?"

Have the last two years of slaughter not been enough to satisfy your Minbari honor? "I am afraid that you will simply have to trust me. This system has a growing fleet base. It would be impossible for the humans to sneak by us. But, as I said, I cannot allow you to bring a force of warships into our territory. I take the safety of my people very seriously."

"As I take the safety of my people," the Alyt responded. He started to say more, but was interrupted as another Minbari, dressed in robes, approached and whispered something in his ear. Startled, the Alyt turned and had a brief but intense conversation with the...man? G'Kar found it difficult to tell with the Minbari when they wore those flowing robes. The Alyt turned back to face him, and G'Kar could tell immediately that something was wrong. "Trust you, you say? How exactly am I to trust you, Narn, when first thing you said to me, apart from your name, was incorrect? The humans have been here. Our scouts found the remains of a human freighter, complete with the bodies of the human crew, in the outskirts of your system. How do you explain this, Narn? Particularly when you were just telling me that the presence of your 'fleet base' would make it impossible for the humans to pass unnoticed. What am I to think? If it is true that the humans couldn't sneak past you, then you clearly are helping them. Which would mean you are the allies of our enemy. The other possibility is that you are simply incompetent to secure your own space, and the humans slipped past your forces with ease. Either way, the humans have penetrated your territory, and I intend to hunt them down and destroy them!"

"You may not pass," G'Kar hissed. "Take it up with your Ambassador, if you do not like it."

"May I not?" the Minbari asked with a sneer. "Will you try to stop me? What do you suppose that effort will prove? Will it prove that the Narns are our enemy, or will it prove that the Narns are incompetent? Let's find out."

Before G'Kar could say another work, two spears of green fire erupted forward from the Minbari cruiser. They swept downward, and in less time than it took G'Kar to cry out in horror, the two G'Quan class heavy cruisers flanking the Chad'rasha Narn, one to port and the other to starboard, were bisected neatly in half. The cruisers themselves did not seem to realize immediately that they had been killed, as it took a few more seconds before flame and secondary explosions spewed from them. Not a single Narn made it to the escape pods. Not a single Narn from either vessel survived.

"SHROCK!" G'Sten cried out in horror. "All ships, lock on all weapons and prepare to.."

G'Kar's hand clamped down hard on the Warleader's shoulder. "Do nothing," he hissed softly.

"What?! G'Kar, we cannot let this stand! This was an attack against us, in our very territory!"

"I am in command here, uncle, and you will do nothing!" Turning back to the display, he found the Alyt smirking at him. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself not to threaten or shout at the man. Instead, he plastered a stiff smile to his face, and gave a small bow. Rising, he let the smile fall from his face, and said only, "Welcome to the Narn Regime," then waved for the channel to be cut. "Uncle, bring the fleet about and head back to base at maximum speed."

"You're going to just let them get away with this?" G'Sten asked, aghast.

"Yes, though I will try to make their task harder."

"In the name of G'Quan, why?"

"You know the answer."

"Explain it to me anyway, G'Kar," he said, though he then gave the order to return to base at maximum thrust.

G'Kar sighed. "Tell me Uncle. Are our ships more advanced than the humans? More powerful?"

"Yes. Of course."

"How much?"

"By at least a generation. Possibly two or three."

"I see. And can we match the humans' industrial output?"

"No."

"How about their population? Their economy? How about the resources they had access to?"

"No, on all counts. We are not far behind, but if I am to be honest, then my answer must be no."

"Then tell me, Uncle, if we had gone to war with the Earth Alliance, instead of the Minbari, would we have won the war?"

G'Sten looked thoughtful. "I cannot say for certain. I think so."

"But it would have been close? It could potentially go either way?"

"Yes," the Warleader said reluctantly.

"Then how, in the name of G'Quan, could you possibly expect us to do anything against the Minbari save meet the same fate as the humans? They would devour us like a plate of breen. Are you prepared, Uncle, to lead our own refugee fleet, with the last remnants of our people, out into the stars, in the slim hopes that the Minbari or the Centauri will not chase down that fleet and exterminate it, along with the rest of our people?"

G'Sten was silent, as were the rest of the bridge crew. Considering that matter to be solved, G'Kar asked another question. "What is the fastest ship we have in the system?"

This startled G'Sten, but he thought for a moment and answered, "There are a couple of Sho'Kos patrol cutters in the system. They are likely the fastest vessels."

"Have a shuttle prepared. I will transfer over as soon as we are in range."

"Going somewhere, Nephew?"

"Yes. I need to make sure the humans get away before the Minbari catch them."

"Mercy, G'Kar?"

"Practicality. We don't want the Minbari finding the humans in our space. They might decide we've been sheltering them. Besides, aside from an official protest, it's the only means open to me for spitting in the pouch of that Alyt."