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.

9. Chapter 8 - Ambush

Chapter 8 - Ambush

T'll, Narn Space - Exodus Fleet - December, 2248

Ivanova awoke in the pilot's locker room. She rubbed bleary eyes. Damn it, not again. She groped for the nearest console, looking for the time, so she could figure out how long she'd been asleep. Something floating through the air bumped into the side of her face. In annoyance, she reached up and snagged in out of the air, then looked at what was in her hand. It was a vial. An empty vial. The label didn't give a name, just a designation...Serum 8472. Glancing around, she saw two other identical vials floating through the air. She quickly gathered them up, and ascertained that they were both also empty. What the hell?

She felt a twinge in her arm. Some nascent instinct caused her to rip off her glove and roll up her sleeve. There, in the crook of her elbow, she saw three fairly recent needle marks. Concern turned to near panic. What did they do to me? And then that glove and sleeve registered on her whirling brain. This isn't my flight suit. Springing to the nearest mirror, she saw that she was wearing a hazardous environment suit.

Leaping across to the nearest terminal, she began a search on Serum 8472, almost absentmindedly noting the time. She had been out for hours. The system seemed to take an inordinately long time to return the information. Finally, it came up. Serum 8472, she thought, scanning the details, is an anti-radiation treatment? An unapproved and highly experimental one. Human trials had barely begun, and no one had yet determined any potential side effects. Potentially extremely effective, but completely unobtainable while it went through human testing. What the hell? she thought again, feeling a bizarre mix of worry and relief. She had assumed it would be something like Flunitrazepan, that she'd been roofied. Now she just felt nauseous. Was that a side effect?

A thought occurred to her, and she returned to the mirror. The standard issue hazardous environment suit came complete with a radiation badge. Yes, there it was...dark brown. It should be white. Dark brown meant that it had absorbed a massive dose of radiation...just not one that would be entirely fatal to the occupant of the suit. Her hand began to shake. She felt something against her leg, in the pocket of the suit. Reaching in she drew out a standard medical injection gun. It would have fallen out of her hand to the floor, had she not been in zero-G. She put it back in her pocket, then shoved the three vials in after it. She hurriedly stripped out of the suit and crammed it into her locker, glad to see her flight suit in there, along with other clothes.

She pulled out her flight suit and hurriedly began to dress. She was just starting on the various connections when the alarms began to blare. Battlestations had been called. She hurried her pace, just as Ironheart burst into the room.

"Wow," he said. "You're fast. I was just down the hall. What, do you sleep here?"

I wish, she thought to herself. It's better than the various alternatives. Instead, she asked, "What's going on?"

"No idea," he said, starting to change into his flight suit, just as other pilots began charging into the room. Several of them nodded to her, appreciating the fact that she was already fully suited up. It eased Susan's nerves just a bit. Rather than every member of the squadron gunning for her, she had somehow become their unofficial mascot. She was the cute kid sister. Half of them mothered her, the other half acted like older brothers, always having her back. She was starting to feel at home amongst these people.

"Attention on deck," Commander Bester barked, swinging into the room. He almost never did that, but the squadrons still came to attention with practiced ease. "We're not under attack. The freighter and ore processing ship King Solomon's Mines just went up like a Roman Candle. In case any of you weren't paying attention, that's where we had stored and were refining all of our newly acquired Quantium 40, which means our stocks are back down to basically zero. More importantly, it also means that the explosion was very powerful. None of the passenger liners, Earth Force ships, or other mission critical vessels were nearby, precisely due to concerns over an explosion. Nonetheless, dozens of smaller shuttles, transports and other civilian vessels were caught in the blast. Many were destroyed, others were badly damaged. We have spacesuited individuals who were doing EVA work, or who found themselves in a burning vessel, drifting hither and yon. All fighter squadrons are being dispatched. We will be assisting with the search portion of search and rescue. Get to your birds and get in the black, now. Dismissed."
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"Jeff, you've gotta see this," Garibaldi said, bursting through Sinclair's office door.

"Michael, you might have noticed that I'm a tad busy just now. You know, coordinating a massive search and rescue operation and trying to maintain an effective fighter screen. I really need to get my butt into a Starfury, and be out there leading from the front."

"Trust me, Jeff," Garibaldi said, closing the office door. "You need to see this first." He approached a computer panel on the wall and activated it. Punching up a series of keys, he brought up a video showing a large freighter and a number of much smaller vessels. It was of unusually high quality. "The King Solomon's Mines was off to the side of the fleet, to keep any potential blast from doing much damage to the rest of the fleet."

"Quantium 40 is some volatile stuff. An explosion was always a danger."

"Which is what they want us to think."

"What who wants us to think?"

Instead of answering, Garibaldi played the video. It was clearly the King Solomon's Mines, as several seconds into the video the ship detonated in a massive explosion, clearly destroying all of the ships nearest to it.

"Because it was off to the side, all of the video we have of the explosion, and it's a lot, basically come from this angle, showing its port side. Convenient, don't you think?"

"How is that convenient?"

"Because it doesn't show the starboard side. Or rather, that's inconvenient for us, convenient for whoever dreamed this up."

"Michael, you're not making any sense. Who dreamed what up?"

"You know me Jeff. Suspicion is in my job description, and when I started looking at all this video, the fact that every last bit of it showed the port side of that ship started and itch in my brain that I just needed to scratch." He stepped the video back several seconds. "You may have noticed the high resolution of this video. That's because this vid comes from the Hubble. It's one of IPX's system exploration and investigation ships. It comes in after a system has been claimed and does detailed scans, charting out the system for hazards and goodies. It's small, but it's packed with tons of sciencey gizmos."

"The point, Michael," Sinclair said, becoming more than little annoyed.

"Because the resolution is so high, we can do this." He zoomed the video in on a shuttle just astern of the King Solomon's Mines. He continued to zoom in until the image was pulled in tight on the windscreen of the shuttle, clearly revealing the faces of the pilot and copilot. "This shuttle is both behind and on the far side of that ship, just coming around it before the explosion. And right in the middle of that windscreen, if you pay attention, is the reflection of the King Solomon's starboard side."

Indeed, now that Sinclair was looking for it, he could make out a fuzzy image, ghostly over the top of the shuttle's interior and crew. Michael continued, "Apparently my staff is more talented that I thought, because one of them was able to filter out the background, and just get us that reflection." He pressed another button, and the shuttle and background disappeared, leaving just the fuzzy image. It was clearly distorted by the shape of the canopy, but the ship was discernible, including running lights and even the ship's name, backwards due to the reflection.

Garibaldi hit play, and Sinclair saw a series of six flashes race up the side of the ship from stern to bow, followed by the explosion of the ship itself. From the first flash to the explosion, less than a second elapsed.

Sinclair lurched to his feet. "What the hell was that?"

"I'll tell you what it wasn't," Garibaldi said, ticking items off on his fingers. "It wasn't the ship's running lights. There are none in those areas. It wasn't pre-detonations of the Q40. Once that stuff goes, it all goes at once. It wasn't a fire on board the ship, seen through portholes. Too fast, too bright, and no portholes in that area anyway. It wasn't any of the ship's systems rupturing or exploding. I checked the schematics. Nothing important runs through the areas those flashes came from. It also wasn't an explosion or series of explosions from inside the ship. That would almost certainly have set off the Q40 earlier, and besides there is no ejecta. At least, not as much as you would expect to see if the explosions happened inside the ship."

"What does that leave," Sinclair asked, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"The only thing I can think of that seems to fit the bill would be a series of coordinated exterior detonations...breaching charges."

"Sabotage." Sinclair hissed the word, visibly shaken. He took a deep breath, regaining control. "I don't know that this video will be sufficient evidence. Not for anything approaching a trial. It also doesn't tell us who. Who would do this? Do you have any other leads?"

Garibaldi grimaced. "I've got some trusted individuals running down some possibilities, but it's all just shots in the dark."

"What about physical evidence from the explosion?"

"From a Q40 explosion? If you've got some way of reassembling evidence from component atoms, you let me know, because that's about all you're going to find."

"So all we've got is a distorted image reflected off a shuttle's canopy? That won't get us very far."

"At least we know that someone in the fleet intends us harm?"

"Yeah, but who?" Sinclair asked, frustrated.

"We're working on it, but right now it could be anyone. Disgruntled Marsie, serial killer, suicidal civie...hell, I'm even considering a Minbari sleeper agent."

That comment elicited a small chuckle from Sinclair, imagining a Minbari with a wig taped over his bone crest. "That's a bit of a long shot."

"You gotta cover all the bases."

Sinclair nodded, then said, "Keep this tight for the time being. Just the Captains and your most trusted investigators, and no more than a handful of those. If word of this gets out, we'll have chaos on our hands. The fleet already has plenty of that. Anything else, Michael?" At the shake of Garibaldi's head, he headed for the door. "Good work on this. I mean that. Now I've got to get my butt into the black. There are a lot of scared civies out there who need rescuing. It's going to be a long night."
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Another long night. The latest is a series of long nights and long days. G'Kar sighed. The hunt was almost over. He sped from system to system sending out scouts in all directions to locate the humans. Apparently ignoring them, pretending they weren't there in the hopes of establishing plausible deniability, had been a truly bad idea. The Minbari were acting completely irrationally. But you didn't tell a homicidal maniac that he was insane. It wasn't good for your health.

The Captain looked over his shoulder at G'Kar. "Ambassador, what are you expecting to find out here? Even our prospectors don't come this far out into the outskirts of the system. It's too much fuel, for too little reward.

"You will know it when you see it, Captain. Just head for the coordinates we received earlier."

"We should be there shortly, Ambassador. There's a large planetoid coming up, as well as a small swarm of smaller asteroids and comets. Your coordinates are on the far side."

Less than half an hour later they passed the planetoid, decelerating. It wouldn't do to go through an asteroid swarm at too high a velocity. It would be hard for the sensors to pick out smaller hunks of rock which might be lurking in their path. At interplanetary speeds, an impact could destroy any but the most heavily armored ships. The planetoid itself was only discernible by the stars it occluded. This far out from the local star, it was merely a large black mass, hanging in the void.

As they began to pass through the asteroid swarm, an alert chimed. The Captain looked down at his console in consternation. "There are six small craft approaching," he said in astonishment. "They appear to be fighters." At a further chime from his panel he added, "they have opened a comm channel. Audio only."

G'Kar nodded for the channel to be patched over the bridge speakers. "Attention, Narn craft," came the disembodied voice. "This is Commander Bester of the Earth Force. Cut your forward velocity and identify yourselves."

"Cut our…?" G'Kar spluttered in surprise. "Commander, it's a bit arrogant of you to tell the Narn where we can and cannot go in our own space. As for identification, this is Ambassador G'Kar. I presume you know who I am?"

"Yes, Ambassador." The human sounded either tired or annoyed. G'Kar couldn't tell which. "Such a pleasure to see you again. What can we do for you?"

"You can explain to me what you are still doing in Narn space. Our agreement was for your fleet to make passage...expeditiously."

"We've had a number of challenges delay us, Ambassador. Rest assured, we are making our way out of your territory at our best speed."

"Then perhaps you should discover a better speed, Commander. The Minbari have arrived in Narn space and have begun searching for you. I have no idea how far behind me they are, but rest assured, Commander, they are coming. The Narn Regime has no intention of confronting them militarily. It would be best for both of us if you are not here when they arrive."

That got the human's attention. "Understood. Ambassador, we have had a catastrophic explosion aboard one of our ships. The blast caused damage to a number of others. We are effecting repairs, but right now our fleet truly cannot make good speed. We hope to leave this system within a day or two, and make our way out of your territory as quickly a possible. But...it would be very helpful if you could stall."

"Stall?!," G'Kar said in astonishment. "You want me to stall the Minbari?!" He sighed. "I shall do what I can, Commander. Do what you can to get your fleet moving. If you should be caught here, I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience. The Minbari have already destroyed two Narn warships in a display of force. They will go where and do what they want, without regard to justification."
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Quadrant 24, Narn Space - Minbari Fleet - December, 2248

"Your attack was completely unjustified, Alyt," Delenn hissed. "We haven't even finished our war with the humans, and now you are trying to start one with the Narn?"

"Vi drosh, Satai Delenn. However, we had evidence of the humans' passage through the system. The Narn were either lying or incapable of securing their own system. They understood our mission, yet still refused us passage."

"Then what you should have done was report back to your superiors. Only the Grey Council can decide to open hostilities. You do not have the right to court war by attacking anyone you choose."

Shai Alyt Branmer stepped forward. "Delenn, I agree that the Alyt may have been a bit...hasty. But if we want to finish this war, especially if we are to catch those humans who flee from us, then we need to allow our officers a certain amount of latitude." The Shai Alyt was one of the few Warrior Caste with whom Delenn was truly comfortable. Perhaps that was because he had previously been of the Religious Caste, a High Priest no less.

"That cannot include the freedom to open fire on the vessels of species with whom we are not at war," Delenn said, somewhat mollified, "barring only self defense."

Coplann spoke up, "And why not, Delenn? The rules of war state that anyone who aids our enemy is our enemy. The Narn were aiding the enemy, either by their intent or by their incompetence."

"And we do not know which it was," Delenn snapped. Our laws do not allow for people to be punished because of mistakes."

"This is not a legal proceedings, Delenn, it is war. A war that cannot end, under the bizarre and legalistic protocols you have rammed through this council, until every human colony is depopulated and until that fleet is smashed. The Narn's error, which lead to this unfortunate situation, wasn't in allowing the humans passage. That was regrettable, but it could be forgiven. No, the mistake was in refusing our ships passage to hunt the humans. By barring our way, by using warships to do so, they were intentionally giving aid to the enemy, and using military force to do so. That made them enemy combatants, and gave the Alyt every right to do as he did. Indeed, he showed more restraint than required, in teaching the Narn a lesson by only destroying two of their vessels, rather than annihilating them all. This is the only way to judge the Alyt's actions, under your own war protocols."

The Alyt in question seemed to be doing his best to fade into the background. He was the lowest ranking individual in the room. Best not to be to obtrusive when your superiors argued. Delenn spared him barely a glance before responding the Coplann. "It is the right of every species to defend their borders. What would you have us do? Run roughshod over all of them? Destroy anyone who stands up to us?"

"Yes. If they stand between us and the humans, if they provide shelter to the enemy, that is exactly what I would have us do."

"Coplann, the humans were well liked. They saved many species from the Dilgar. Races allowing them passage may very well simply be trying to honor their obligations. We should not reward that honor with death and destruction."

"The humans are without honor, Delenn. This was decided. There can, therefore, be no honor in aiding them. That fleet must be destroyed for this war to end. We can be merciful to those who stand in our way, but we must be implacable. Delenn," he continued. "Haven't you been telling us that we may soon need to lead all of these races against a greater threat? That we may need to protect them and teach them to fight properly against a greater enemy? It is best we establish Minbari authority in that regard now. If we are to be teachers, then we may need to administer punishment to get these races to fall in line. That is what the Alyt was doing. He was teaching the Narn a lesson about respecting Minbari authority, as one would teach a child. Haven't the Centauri been telling us for generations now that the Narn are as children?"

"You do not usually kill the child to teach it a lesson," Delenn spat. "Will you drive a fleet into Centauri space? Go to war with the Abbai and the Yolu? Tell me, Coplann, should the humans seek refuge with the Vorlons, will you take warships into their space and demand passage?"

Coplann blanched, then responded, "If the humans are foolish enough to enter Vorlon space, then they deserve their fate. Still, Delenn, I understand your point. However, we cannot allow that fleet to escape. Do you have a solution?"

Delenn turned and looked at the Alyt who had caused this entire debate. "Ni moshna, Alyt. Perhaps I have been too critical of you. Coplann is correct. Your actions did conform to the current war protocols. Please try to be more diplomatic in the future." Turning back to face Coplann and Branmer, she continued, "The fault is ours. This council should have contacted the various alien governments to whom the humans might flee. We should have made them understand that we will follow the humans wherever they go, until we finally catch them. We should have arranged our passage diplomatically, peacefully, beforehand. We will start by sending out messengers to each of the nearest alien governments, to convey these messages." She looked to Shai Alyt Branmer again. "Where are the humans most likely to go next?"

"We believe they will head for Centauri territory."

Turning back to Coplann, she said, "Then we will go to Centauri territory and discuss the matter with them personally." She met Coplann's considering gaze. She could have called for a vote, but if she convinced this man, there would be no need. If he agreed, then his adherents would as well, and the vote would be unanimous.

Coplann considered her for several moments, then gave a shallow nod. "Agreed, Delenn. Let us go and speak with the Centauri."
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As the meeting broke up, Coplann drew Branmer into a nearby room. "What is the status of extending our beacon net into Narn space?"

"It is progressing, Satai Coplann. Is this not something which should have been discussed in the council meeting?"

"No. Facilitating the tactics of chasing the human fleet is a matter for the Warrior Caste. Handling the logistics may fall to the Workers, but this is a Warrior decision. Delenn didn't argue tactics, just that we should proceed diplomatically when coming into the territories of other races. Movement through Narn space, however, has already been established. We need a beacon network. I won't have our fleet trapped, having to hunt their way home, should the Narn decide to start tampering with their beacons the way the humans did."

Branmer gave a nod, then continued. "Narn space is nearly as large as the human territory was. Extending the beacon network throughout their space and building jump gates in key systems is a major task, particularly since you want to keep this hidden from the Narn. In order to accomplish this quickly, I have ordered a number of forward depots set up in hidden locations. These depots are being stocked with the necessary supplies to facilitate the construction of the network."

"Good. Keep me apprised, Shai Alyt. Depending upon how far the humans get, we may need to extend the network several times. Let's use Narn space to refine our process."

"Agreed, Satai Coplann."
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T'll, Narn Space - Exodus Fleet - December, 2248

"Preparations completed for exfiltration, Captain. The fleet should begin system departure within the hour."

Levitt nodded. They were already well overdue for leaving the system. The explosion of the King Solomon's Mines had damaged a lot of vessels, crippling a number of them. Given how crowded the fleet had become, abandoning those ships had been deemed unacceptable, even if space could be found for their passengers. The decision had been made to repair them. Fortunately, they had plenty of capacity for that type of work, and the repairs had proceeded apace. Then Ambassador G'Kar had arrived with his warning that the Minbari were coming, and the work had shifted into overdrive, the frenetic activity seemingly at odds with the peace and sterility of the encompassing void.

But, finally, the work was completed and it was time to get going. "Good work, Lieutenant Commander. Begin final system checks. I want to get underway at the first possible moment."

"Aye, Captain," she responded. However, it was not ten minutes later that an alarm chirped and Kathway looked up. "Maam, one of our stealth sats on the far side of the planetoid is picking up some anomalous energy readings."

"Details?" Levitt asked.

Before Kathway could respond, another alarm sounded, and Kathway cursed. Not taking her eyes from the sensor readings, she called out, "Jump point forming….Minbari vessels entering system."
Levitt didn't hesitate. She keyed an emergency comm channel which had been set aside for exactly this type of contingency. The broadcast went out to the entire fleet. "Condition Black, Condition Black. All vessels go to maximum EmCon!" She felt, rather than heard, the mighty engines of the Eratosthenes wind down.

Lieutenant Sakai, manning communications today, called out, "All fleet comms traffic has ceased. We are receiving status requests from the Midway, Lexington, and Nova via tight-beam lasers."

"Transmit all readings on the Minbari through to them."

Kathway turned to her and said, "All fleet ships have killed their engines and stepped back to minimum emissions. Orders?"

"Continue as is for now. I need to make some calls. You have the bridge."
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"No further Minbari vessels have entered the system in the last twenty-four hours," Sinclair reported. The Council was meeting via comm channel, broadcast over tight-beam laser. Normal communications and inter-ship travel had been restricted, in order to provide the minimum possible signature for the Minbari to detect. Energy levels across the fleet had also been drawn down to bare minimums, and all external lights and heat sources had been damped as much as possible.

Still, what really kept the fleet safe was good fortune. The Minbari had entered the system on the far side of a planetoid the fleet had been near. The fleet had slowly and cautiously pulled in tight to the rear of the planetoid, carefully keeping it between them and the Minbari ships.
Those ships had made their way to another planetoid, some ten million kilometers distant. Then they began their landings. The Minbari were also trying to remain unobtrusive. They kept a cruiser and fighter patrols up; left them in close to the planetoid. Their stealth fields were up, blanketing the entire area. Fortunately, the stealth satellites which had been seeded around the area for fleet security were able to keep an eye on the Minbari at almost all times, even when the rotation of their planetoid placed it between then and the fleet's own position.

There was a lot to keep an eye on. A steady stream of Minbari vessels had arrived and departed; freighters mostly, interspersed with warships. They continued to stay close to their planetoid maintaining a low profile. The freighters landed and began disgorging materials and supplies at a prodigious rate. Then they began to build.

Facilities went up at an amazing rate. A small habitat and bunker. Landing fields and warehouses being filled with materials of all kinds. And a defensive battery of six massive cannon.

The fleet had watched in horror, trapped, as the Minbari had built what was clearly a military supply depot practically on their front doorstep. Running wasn't an option, at least not until they had no further choice. Even if opening jump points wouldn't have set off every sensor the Minbari had; the Minbari ships were arriving with such regularity that the fleet would almost certainly run into them in hyperspace. They were trapped. And so, reluctantly, they huddled tight to their own planetoid, and watched the Minbari construct their base.

It was done in just three days. After that, the flow of Minbari vessels dried up entirely, leaving a manned and operational surface base. The Council meeting was called, to discuss their next move. Sinclair had been updating them on the Minbari movements.

"So what do we do now," Garibaldi asked.

"We back away, slowly," Levitt said. "With the proper calculations we can keep this planetoid between us and the Minbari as we pull out of the system. We don't know the range at which Minbari sensors can detect a jump point, but I'd suggest we triple or even quintuple the range at which our own sensors would pick one up before we exit the system, just to be on the safe side."

"It would take the fleet several days to get to that kind of range," Gideon noted. "Even keeping the planetoid between us and that Minbari base, we'd be painfully obvious to any Minbari ships entering the system. Just because we haven't seen any for a day doesn't mean that they won't be visiting."

"We could just make a run for it," Lochley suggested. "They have no ships here to give chase."

"They certainly have communication with their forces, though," Garibaldi said. We know their are Minbari ships in the area. As slow as the fleet is, if we give away our position by running for it, it won't be long before those ships overtake us."

"We can't hide here forever," Lochley responded. "Sooner or later they'll notice us. If anyone has any alternate suggestions, I'm all ears."

"We attack," Bester, Sinclair, and Sheridan all said in unison, then started in surprise. They glanced at each other with bemused grins.

"I'm not sure that's wise," Levitt said cautiously.

Garibaldi was much more blunt. "You want to attack a Minbari military base. Are you crazy?"

"You better hope we're crazy like a fox, Michael, because as far as I can see, this is our only chance. We have to take out that base before it can get a signal off to it's fleet," Sinclair said. "That will give us a chance to run, and get some distance before the Minbari start chasing us."

"And how do you plan to take out that base? You did notice the giant fraggin' space guns?"

Sheridan stepped in. "The Minbari have made a tactical error. More than one, actually, but the biggest one is this...they've just negated their stealth advantage."

"Excuse me?" Levitt asked. "Our sensors clearly show that their stealth fields are active."

"Yes," Sheridan allowed, "but they put all of their defenses into that base. They have no ships, no fighters that we can see, not even any defense satellites. Just one admittedly sturdy and well armed ground base. But you see, when we entered the system, we did what the Minbari didn't….we precisely analyzed, mapped, and charted the entirety of the nearby area. It turns out it was worth while bringing along those civilian astronomical survey vessels.

"The Minbari built their base on a planetoid whose position, rotation, and surface features we have recorded down to submeter precision. We can see from the surface terrain they built upon exactly where that base is. Our sensors may now be telling us they are in a different location, but simple orbital and rotational mechanics, based upon previous observations, gives us their actual location. We can finally hit them with consistency."

"Space guns?" Garibaldi asked "Am I the only one who remembers the giant space guns? We've never seen them before, but given their size, they almost certainly outrange our weaponry. There's ten million klicks between us and that base. They're going to see us coming, and carve us to pieces before we can respond. And the Minbari have proven they can shoot down ground attack missiles with regularity."

"I was thinking an energy mine might still outrange those guns," Sheridan said. "It's a gamble, and we only have one left, but I don't see that we have a choice."

"Actually, Captain," Bester interrupted, "I've been analyzing the situation, and I think I have a way for the Starfuries to make the battle less costly."

Sheridan gave him a surprised look. "That's very good, Commander. But I'd hate to burn up our Starfury squadrons on a swarm attack. We just got them back up to strength, and the telepath factor may prove critical in the future."

"Nothing so crude, Captain. Though if you want to keep the telepaths safe, we could pull off the maneuver with just the normal pilots."

"No," Sinclair interrupted. "I think I had the same thought you did, Commander Bester, but if so we use all of the pilots. The additional numbers will be an added safety factor for everyone. Beyond that, when we run into Minbari fighters I won't be sending out the telepath pilots alone, unaided. By the same token, I won't keep them out of this fight just because that particular talent isn't needed. It's one fighter group. We live together, work together, fight together."

Bester grimaced, but then gave a sharp nod. Sinclair continued. "There is something else of which you should all be aware." He shunted an image to all of their screens. It showed the base. An oddity was circled in read. It showed a series of warehouses, which for some reason had been built dozens of kilometers from the main base. No additional defenses had been placed in that area, so the fleet had largely ignored it.

"The oddity of this construction got me curious. I had some sensor readings gathered, all passive, obviously. These warehouses are emitting a low level of radiation. A very particular kind of radiation. It's a Quantium 40 signature. If everything we saw being loaded into these warehouses was indeed Quantium 40, then commandeering them would recoup over eighty percent of the stocks we traded to the Narn."

That news got everyone's attention. "Assuming this even works, how long would it take us to load that much Q40?" Lochley asked.
"I ran some calculations," Sinclair said. "Based on how long it took the Minbari to unload into them, and the available transport craft we have, including civilian, I'd bet that we could do it in less than eight hours. That's a dangerous rush. It might get some folks hurt. But I'd say it's worth the danger."

Everyone seemed to nod at that statement. "I think I agree that we have no choice but to attack," Lochley noted. "That being that case, why not add piracy to the bill."

"Piracy?" Garibaldi asked. "Nah. It's just a little light larceny. It can't be piracy. There's not an eyepatch or peg leg in sight."

Sinclair shook his head in amusement. "Regardless," he said, "I think Commander Bester and I have some planning to do. This may require some pilot realignment, but we were planning to do another round of ship transfers anyway. Captain Sheridan, if you have the time, it would be helpful to have you join that conversation. Does anyone have any further concerns?" As there were none, he continued, "Then we have work to do. Signing off."
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Less than four hours later, the Midway and the Nova turned and, along with the fighter wings of the Mother and Eratosthenes, headed directly away from the Minbari position, carefully keeping the planetoid between themselves and the Minbari base. This left only the Lexington's single flight of fighters to guard the remaining fleet. Several hours later, the combat force reached their designated staging point.

The Midway launched three squadrons, so the Starfuries from the Mother and Eratosthenes could come aboard and be refueled. The Midway's squadrons were parked practically in contact with the ship, and the pilot's exited into vacuum and were pulled back into the ship by spacers in EVA rigs who had been awaiting them. The pilots were all expected to get a meal and catch a few hours of sleep. A few of them even managed to.

Hours later, those same pilots returned to their Starfuries, and the Nova and Midway launched the rest of them. Nine squadrons of Starfuries, one hundred and eight fighters overall, pulled into a tight formation. Jeffrey Sinclair, Commander Space Fighter Group, took his position at the point of the formation. He opened the comm channel for the Group, but dialed down the broadcast power to the point that no one more than a couple of kilometers away could pick it up. "We just received word from the fleet. Still no sign of any Minbari ships, so we are mission go. As of this moment, there is no turning back. This needs to be perfectly precise people. Your course has been programmed into your computers. You're going to feel out of control for a lot of this. You're going to have to trust that we've run the numbers correctly. Make sure your comm power has been set to minimum, then check in by squadron." He listened as each of the squadrons ran their own individual ship checks, then waited as one after another, each squadron leader checked in with him. Black Omega. Alphas Red, Blue, Gold, and Green. Epsilon Blue and Red. Delta Blue and Red. All nine squadrons, fully prepared and ready to fly.

"Set course," Sinclair commanded. "Initiate burn in three...two...one...burn." As one, all one hundred and eight Starfuries kicked forward at a precise two Gs of acceleration, under inertial compensation. Their speed literally rocketed upwards. In less than an hour, they were approaching the planetoid behind which the fleet sheltered. Their relative approach speed was over 350 kilometers per second, the planetoid visibly growing before them. Their path had been very carefully evacuated by the fleet.

That path brought them nose first into the planetoid. "Rotate upwards ninety degrees," Sinclair ordered. "Twenty second burn at eight Gs on my mark. Mark!" The kick was just enough to take them off of a collision course. They flashed over the planetoid at incredible speed, passing directly between two immense mountains so quickly that it was barely discernible by the human eye.

They flashed out past the planetoid and into the open space between it and the Minbaris' own...just moments after the rotation of that other body took the Minbari base over its horizon. Sinclair sent a final communication to his people. "Settle in for the next eight hours people. That's how long it will take to cross the ten million klicks to our target. We'll do another extremely low level pass over the horizon just as it's rotation will be bringing the Minbari base back around. We'll cross their visible horizon less than fifteen klicks from their position, and we will already be firing by the time we do. They will not have the time to react, and our relative speed should make that all but impossible anyway, but we will begin evasive maneuvering just prior to becoming visible to them. I want to minimize the possibility of casualties. Squadron leaders, one last check of your people. This will be the last communication until after the battle. I want a complete comm blackout from here on in. Acknowledge." After receiving those acknowledgements, Sinclair performed a few more checks of his systems. Then he settled back to wait.
Eight hours seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. Sinclair resisted the urge to break comm silence and issue any final instructions. They knew what they needed to do. He just had to trust that they would remember. Or rather, he had to trust that they would follow the instructions already programmed into their flight computers.

And they did. At the appropriate time he saw every Starfury in view pivot downward to the appropriate firing angle. Then they began to jink wildly, going into a series of random but sharp maneuvers, while still maintaining the appropriate firing position. His timer counted down. They passed an invisible point in space, designated the attack point. All one hundred and eight ships began to rapidly flush their missile racks. Heavy ground attack missiles had been loaded to all eight hardpoints. Sinclair watched in satisfaction as Eight hundred and sixty-four missile tracks streaked towards the horizon, just as their pulse discharge cannons opened up. The Minbari base appeared to crest that horizon, just in time for the missiles to strike. Sinclair caught the barest flash of the base, including six massive cannons, disappearing in the stroboscopic effect of all those missiles impacting. Then their relative velocity of over 350 kilometers per second swept the flight group past. He knew at least a few of their pulse discharges struck the base as well. Not that it made much difference.

His displays automatically switched to the rear view cameras and zoomed in. He grunted in shock as he saw the barrels of all six cannon, poking up above the still flaring blasts of the missiles, swivel and align on his fighter group at an astonishing speed.

He broke comms silence to scream "Evade!" That was stupid, he thought, we're already evading.

Despite those desperate evasive maneuvers, despite the incredible speed at which they were receding, despite the absolutely minimal time they had given the Minbari to react, two of those cannon still fired, spearing Starfuries out of the sky. We had to hit every one of those cannon with multiple heavy missiles and pulse blasts. We didn't manage to disable a single one of them. That DAMNED Minbari armor! He cursed silently. They hadn't manage to disable a single cannon. Every one was tracking his formation, targeting in for the next kill.

Which meant they weren't pointed anywhere near the Nova, when it crested the horizon. From less than twelve kilometers distance, it fired every one of its forward laser cannon, all preaimed. Fourteen lasers streaked out at six cannon, two a piece, plus two that were allowed to pick their own targets. Every Minbari cannon lurched crazily, then ground to a halt, immobilized. The first salvo had disabled them. The second blasted them to scrap. The third blasted the scrap to rubble. The following salvos merely stirred the rubble. They kept right on stirring until the moment the shuttles touched down.

When the Starfuries had entered the space between the two planetoids, the Nova and several shuttles had almost immediately passed them, accelerating hard. Around the halfway mark they had turned over and begun decellerating just as hard. The Starfuries had flashed passed them again at almost the same time they opened fire on the Minbari base. The Nova and shuttles had slowed to the point where they came in at a relative crawl, able to practically loiter over the base.

As the shuttles touched down amid the ruins of the former base, Sinclair could see armored figures pouring out of them. He was far enough away now that, despite the computer's best magnification, those figures looked like ants. Astonishingly, Minbari warriors came out to greet them, firing with precision. However, he heard a distinctive voice clearly shouting. "Form it all up! Everything you got! Come on you apes. You wanna live forever?!" A massive firefight broke out. Damn it, Michael. You weren't supposed to be leading the assault.

There was nothing he could do about that now. "All fighters, full decel. Let's get turned around and head back to the barn." Most of the fleet would already be jumping out. His cameras caught the first heavy transports, descending on the Q40 warehouses. "I think we've overstayed our welcome. Time to move along."

Within eight hours, not a single living human would remain in T'll.
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Hilak, Narn Space - Exodus Fleet - December, 2248

"Is this real wine?" Tessa asked.

"I hear this place serves only the best," Susan responded. They were meeting for lunch at one of the finest restaurants still in operation aboard the Titanic.

Tessa smiled and raised her glass. "Then here's to you. Triple ace. Very impressive. Does the title come with a cape or a crown?"

"Hah, hah, very funny. It was just a few raiders in completely obsolete fighters. Besides, you're one to talk. I hear you single handedly chased down and apprehended a serial killer. That's got to come with a promotion, right?"

"Don't believe everything you hear. I single handedly chased down and apprehended a flasher. I know he was a flasher, since he provided me with incontrovertible evidence. At night. After a long shift. On my way home to finally get some sleep. Which I never did get, because after chasing down his stupid ass, I had to spend the next several hours filling out paperwork. The local journalist wanna be's know I'm on the serial killer case, though, and decided that he must be the culprit. Captured serial killer makes for a catchier title than captured pervert. No, the telepath killer is still out there. Which is why I'm glad to see you're packing."

"Just part of the uniform, when I'm not on my own ship."

"I'm still glad to see it. And don't tell me it was just a few raiders. Triple ace means fifteen kills. I know that much. You don't go from common cadet to ace pilot in a few months without a lot of hard work. I imagine you know what lost sleep feels like."

"And how!" Susan said with feeling. "The workload is crazy. And the few times I actually get to rack out...well, let's just say that one of my roommates has no compunctions about bringing her boyfriend, who just happens to be my wingman, over for...entertainment. Even when Lyta and I are in the room."

Tessa laughed. "They can't possibly be that loud. Can they?"

"Let's just say that it's really nice to be around a friend who isn't getting any."

Tessa slapped on a fake offended look, her hands on her hips. "Now why would you assume that?"

"It's the way you're sitting." Susan said it with a straight face, but then burst out laughing when Tessa worriedly looked down to examine her seating position. "Actually, I heard through the rumor mill that you had broken up with Prince Charming. But that little display definitely confirmed it for me. I guess the badge scares them away."

"I will have you know that I have been asked out several times...ok, by one man several times."

"Ooohh. A new Prince Charming. So are you going to take him up on the offer?"

"Eventually. We're just both so busy, working it out has been difficult."

"Somebody you work with?"

"No. Just some doctor I met."

"Well. A doctor. Don't we aim high."

"You're not at all funny, you know."

Susan laughed. "Of course I am. But I really was glad to get your message. It's been too long. I haven't been decked in almost forever."

Tessa laughed at that, but then Susan continued in a more tentative tone. "So...you don't mind...you know...having lunch with a telepath?"

Tessa smiled. "Do you mind having lunch with a dirty Marsie?"

"Of course not. I can't tell that you're dirty at all. The smell of pork completely covers it."

Tessa chuckled. "A lame cop joke? Where did this sense of humor come from?"

"Sorry, it's my squadron. They're actually hilarious. I still can't believe that Commander Bester cracks jokes sometimes. And they're actually funny. I guess they just bring it out in me."

"It suits you," Tessa said, just as their food arrived. They spent the next few minutes eating in companionable silence. Then Tessa took another sip of wine and changed topics. "I guess you were part of the raid on the Minbari base? I've got to tell you, that particular episode had all of the civilians pretty terrified. Me too, for that matter. Was it worth it?"

"Well," Susan responded carefully. "I don't think the fleet would have escaped if we had done anything else, so in that regard it was certainly worth it. We also nearly filled our holds with Quantium 40, and the old bean counters on Earth would certainly have counted that a major gain, no matter how many lives we lost. But, we didn't capture any worth while intelligence. The Minbari fought to the last man, and they take a lot to put down, so no wounded or unconscious prisoners to pick up. They also managed to scrub and destroy all of their computers. I hear that the IPX higher ups are rather disappointed in what little we were able to capture. They've filed a complaint with Captain Sheridan on the 'egregious and excessive use of force.' Apparently we ruined all of the toys they were hoping to get."

"You're kidding. They do remember there's a war on, don't they?"

"Who knows. I'm told they say it will take years or decades to learn anything from the rubble we collected. They do have some hope for reverse engineering the hand weapons we managed to collect. I'm also told they were excited to get all of the heavy Minbari armor we picked up. It's some kind of crystalline structure. They're working on that first."

"How many did we lose?"

"It wasn't too bad, actually. At least not compared to how things have generally gone for the last two years. We lost two Starfuries. During the ground assault, thirteen GroPos were killed."

"Wounded?"

"You don't tend to get wounded when fighting in vacuum. You're either fine or you're dead. I'm told they almost nailed your boss."

"Wait, what!? Garibaldi was there? He told us he was going to take a long nap."

"No, he was part of the assault. Lead it, actually. A near miss blew his Auricon right out of his hands," Susan said, referring to the Auricon Personal Plasma Gun Assault Rifle. It was the weapon of choice for fights in vacuum or shipboard actions. On a planet with the right conditions for larger numbers of troops to be deployed, the grunts had a significant array of weapons from which to be equipped. Everything from slug throwers and sniper rifles to lasers and explosive liquid spray guns.

"Damn. I thought he just mostly slept all the time."

"Guess not."

"Susan," Tessa said, a little hesitantly, "I didn't just want to meet with you to catch up. This is...semiofficial. It's part of an investigation. One that I need you to remain completely silent about."

"Ok," Susan said with some concern. "What can I help with?"

"It's about the King Solomon's Mines. We don't think the explosion was an accident. I'm told it was sabotaged. Whatever was done was done on the far side of the ship, away from the rest of the fleet. We have no real visuals. Garibaldi asked me to speak with you. You were running some scheduled training maneuvers on your own that day...high and low speed ship passes, right? Anyway, you were one of the few people to pass on the far side of the King Solomon's Mines that day that is still alive. I know that it's a long shot, but anything you might remember could really help us." Susan had paled visibly. "Is something wrong?" Tessa asked in concern.

Susan started. "No, sorry. It's just such a tragedy. I'm supposed to be protecting the fleet, and something like this just makes me feel helpless. I'm sorry," she said again, "but I can't help you. Remember what I said about missing sleep? I don't really even remember that flight." she said with complete honesty. "I'm so tired some days I find myself waking up in the middle of a meal, or getting into my flight suit."

"Are all the pilots that under rested?" Tessa asked. "That doesn't make me feel particularly safe.

"None of the other pilots are cadets in training, telepaths in training, active duty pilots, and pilots in training all at the same time. I thought I'd finally get some downtime once Commander Sinclair graduated us, but Commander Bester decided he didn't trust anyone else's training. He's putting all of the new members of Black Omega through his own training cycle. If anything, he's even worse than Sinclair, and we all called him God. Well," she hedged, "technically he told us to do that."

"So there's nothing then?" Tessa asked, returning to her primary inquiry.

"No, I'm sorry."

"That's ok. I knew it was a longshot. But, if you think of anything, don't hesitate to comm me." She stood up smiling. "No rest for the wicked. I've got to get back now."

"Good luck with your investigations. Oh, and with your doctor."

"You to. Stay safe out there, Susan. I don't have many friends from Earth. I don't have many friends period. But, I'm starting to think Russians are a lot like Marsies. I hear it's nearly as cold."

"Colder," Susan said, standing with a grin. "But don't worry about me. We don't think the base had time to send out any Tachyon comms. Hopefully, we've given the Minbari the slip. Besides, I just got new orders. My wingman and I are being transferred to one of the Nova's squadrons. Apparently to brass is trying to make the squadrons more fluid. Get every pilot comfortable with every other. It's the strongest ship in the fleet. How could I possibly get into trouble on a dreadnought? "
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"I am in so much trouble," Susan muttered to herself, carrying her ruck down the halls of the Nova. Beside her, Ironheart chuckled softly. The rather grizzled looking Chief they were following looked back over his shoulder and scowled at her. Then his scowl deepened as he glanced again at what was coming up behind them.

Susan sighed and turned around. Behind her were Talia and Lyta. Talia's sloppily arranged bags had spilled something else...some delicate piece of clothing...and she was busily chasing it down.

The Chief looked as though he might explode. Instead he turned to Ironheart and said, "I was told to expect two telepath pilots. No one said anything about two additional telepaths, civilians no less. Civilians should not be on a ship of the line during a time of war."

"I'm sure it was just a simple miscommunication, Chief," Ironheart said with a grin. Wherever Cadet Ivanova goes, those two go. They're her tutors. We wouldn't want her to fall behind in her studies.

Great. Thanks a lot, thought Susan as the Chief's glare slid to her.

"You're a cadet? I was told you were an Ensign!" Judging by the color of the Chief's face, he did not find the situation anywhere near as amusing as Ironheart did.

"I am," Susan replied. "I am a serving commissioned Ensign. And, I am a cadet. Apparently, the two things are not mutually exclusive."

"As things stand, Susan will be a cadet for at least another three years," Ironheart cut in. "Assuming we live that long. But we wouldn't want it to take a day longer than necessary, which is why it is critical she maintain her studies."

"And how do a pair of civilian skirts help a cadet to keep up on her military studies?"

"Well aren't you sweet," Lyta muttered under her breath. Louder, she called out, "by ensuring she knows how to control her telepath abilities, and keep them in check. This alleviates distractions from her other studies.

The Chief grunted, but resumed moving down the corridor. Rounding several more corners, they eventually came to a small hatch set in the wall. The Chief popped the hatch, then waved them inside. The room inside was barely larger than a closet. It contained two bunks, a small desk, a pair of lockers, and nothing else. "I was only told to expect two of you, so you're going to have to hot bunk for now."

"I don't know what that means," Talia said, looking in dismay at the tiny room.

Susan did know what it meant, and she agreed with how Talia felt. Instead of replying to her though, she addressed their reluctant host. "Chief, we can't all stay here. Regulations forbid a male member of Earth Force, officer or enlisted, from sharing accommodations with female civilians."

"Oh, we'll be fine," Ironheart said with a grin.

The Chief scowled at all of them. Does he have any other expressions? Susan wondered to herself. Then he responded to her. "Regulations also state that telepaths cannot share accomodations with normals. That would seem to be the higher precedence. I will look into finding separate accommodations for Lieutenant Ironheart. But, in the meantime, this will just have to do."

Susan was about to protest further, when the ship suddenly went to red alert. Sirens blared, and the Chief cursed. "You two need to get to your fighters. Follow me. You two," he said, turning on Talia and Lyta, "are to stay in this room. Close and dog the hatch. Do not come out under any circumstances." With that, he spun about and launched himself out of the room.

"Be safe," Susan called to her two now very nervous looking friends. Then she sprang after the Chief, and Ironheart followed.
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"Report," Sheridan barked. A horrified silence had settled over the bridge. On the main screen, for all to see, the remains of the Celebration, one of the White Star Liners, drifted slowly apart. It had been neatly bisected by a blossoming hyperspace vortex.

"No sign of escape pods, Captain," Takashima said softly, horror in her eyes. "The Celebration went down with all hands. My God. Two hundred thousand dead civilians…"

"Not the civilians, Lieutenant Commander!" Sheridan barked. "Report on the Minbari, and our defensive status!"

She shook herself, regaining her composure. "A single Minbari ship has emerged, sir. It's not one of their war cruisers, nor one of their escort frigates. We've only caught a few glimpses of this class before. It's believed to be a scout class. Or possibly one of their older ships. Maybe both. They're opening fire on all of the nearby civilian vessels. The Celebration was the only ship of any significant size nearby, but the Minbari a rapidly destroying the shuttles and minor freighters and transports in the area. They're launching fighters...six of them. Our own fighters are just hitting the black now."

"Order them to hold back. Where are the next nearest fighter squadrons?"

"Green Alpha was flying CAP nearby. They're vectoring in. The Eratosthenes and Lexington are launching their fighters. The Midway and Mother are launching as well, but they're quite a ways out, on the far side of the fleet. Lexington is headed this way under maximum burn."

"Order the fighters not to engage until the CAP arrives. We want at least a five to one advantage when we take on those fighters. Do we have a lock on the Minbari ship?"

"No, their stealth field is active. Sensors can barely even tell they're there."

"All guns to manual aiming. Fire at will. Engines to maximum. Let's close the range and see if we can't get some sort of a lock. I don't care how advanced the Minbari are. No scout ship can take on dreadnought, much less an entire task force."
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"Hiai'sa Manier, the correlation of forces here would appear to be rather...disadvantageous. A scout ship is not designed to take on warships, much less an entire task force."

"Need I remind you, warrior, that the Temshwee is a Leshath class heavy scout? We are designed for combat. Besides, fighting the humans can hardly be called true combat. They cannot even strike us."

"That is one of their dreadnoughts coming at us, Hiai'sa. It's weapons are quite heavy. It is trying to close to a distance at which our stealth fields will not be fully effective."

"And we shall dance around them, using our greater speed to keep them at range, and to keep their formations confused. Shift all fire to the dreadnought. We need fear only their energy mine launcher, and they dare not use that within the press of all of their worker vessels. What is the status of their fleet?"

"Their worker vessels are in complete disarray. They are spread out over quite a distance, but even the ships farthest from us are panicking, running for wherever they might think to find safety. We've already tracked a number of minor collisions. We've damaged quite a few of the nearest ones as well. They'll have a hard time fleeing." The warrior noted some new information coming up on his display. "We are tracking a rather concerning number of their fighters. Over a hundred of them, converging on us. It could be a danger to us. We have a limited number of weapons with which to shoot them down."

"Have our fighters cease attacks on the worker vessels. They are to concentrate on the human fighters. Try to take them out in small batches. We are going to win this fight. I will stop this infernal chase, and have the honor of relegating Starkiller to the pages of history." Manier sighed. "I suppose we should report in."
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"Red Delta Leader to squadron. Report in. By the numbers."

Ironheart listened as the squadron checked in pilot by pilot. At the appropriate point he called out "Red Delta 5, checking in."

"Red Delta 6, checking in," he heard Susan say next. They had taken over the final pairing of the Red Delta's first flight, the only telepaths in the flight. The second flight also had a telepath; one of the rookies just out of Sinclair's class.

Red Delta Leader spoke again. "Blue Delta just finished launching. Green Alpha is vectoring on our position. We're going to form up and hit that flight of Minbari fighters. That'll give us six to one odds. A cake walk."

Yeah, right, Iron heart thought. At six to one odds, in most previous fights the human fighters would have been lucky to get away with a survivor or two. Of course, now they had a surprise in store for the Minbari. As the three squadrons headed towards combat with the Minbari fighters, he keyed his private channel to Susan. "Ok, Susie, now you get to find out why we were practicing all of those in flight telepathic connections."

"Call me Susie again, and the Minbari with be the least of your worries."

He chuckled, but continued, "Minbari stealth does not mask against telepathy. I'm going to detect the Minbari fighters, which will give me a feel for their true position. Then I'm going to share that information with you telepathically."

There was a very long pause, and then Susan said, "That sounds incredibly hard."

"It is, but it finally gives us a fighting chance. How do you think Bester got his three kills?" He strove to stay confident for Susan, but his own anxiety was riding high. He reached into a pocket on his flight suit and pulled out the pill bottle he kept there. It contained the cocktail of drugs he took every day. He was also receiving daily injections, and a special diet, but they trusted him to hang onto the pills himself. Sometimes after taking the pills he thought he felt a tiny bit stronger, but he had yet to notice any permanent effect. He stared at the pill bottle for a long moment. It was almost a week's worth of pills. He popped off the top and then, before he could change his mind, quickly tossed back the entire bottle and swallowed the pills dry.

"My God," he heard Susan whisper. She didn't sound like she was aware that she was transmitting.

"Focus, people," came Red Delta Leader's voice. "This just gives us more reason to wipe out those damned Minbari!"

Ironheart looked around. He had been focused on the pills, and had clearly missed what everyone else had noticed. Then he saw it. They were passing near to the Titanic. The Captain had clearly been focused entirely on the Minbari threat, rather than paying attention to his course while running away at maximum thrust. The ship had run directly into a large asteroid. Or perhaps it was a small comet, given all of the shards of ice he saw flying everywhere. The entire side of the ship had been ripped open. In and amongst the debris he saw thousands of bodies spilling out to be flash frozen in the icy vacuum of space. Tens of thousands. A few moments later, the stricken vessel's fusion reactor breached, and the entire vessel disappeared in a nuclear conflagration. "Those bastards," Ironheart heard himself shout. He realized a second later that he too was set to broadcast, but he didn't care. "Kill all of them!"

"Cut the chatter," Red Delta Leader ordered. "You'll get your chance. Here come the Nials. Weapons hot!"
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"Maintain course! Maintain fire!" Sheridan shouted. The Nova screamed around him, lurching violently again and again. "Status of the Minbari?"

"We haven't laid so much as a finger on them, Captain," Takashima called out loudly. She was using an extinguisher to put out a fire which had started at one of the computer stations. "We aren't able to close the range. They keep moving away. That ship is faster than us."

"Inquire with Engineering about the possibility of going to one hundred and fifteen percent on the reactors."

Takashima responded a moment later. "Engineering says one hundred and fifteen percent is possible, but not recommended."

"Do it." A moment later the ship lurched again. "Damage report."

"They don't seem to be armed with any of their heavy Neutron Lasers. Thank God for small favors. But those Fusion Lasers hit damned hard for allegedly point defense weapons. Our armor is mostly holding, though we have several minor penetrations, and a number of compartments exposed to vacuum. We've got significant power fluctuations running through every one of the ship's systems, a number of structural members are showing signs of failure, and four of our Laser Cannon have been crippled. Sick bay is being flooded with casualties."

"Where's the Lexington?"

"Coming up fast on port side."

"Circle to starboard. Let's see if we can catch these boneheads between the two of us."
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Ironheart's voice screamed over Susan's comm. "BREAK LEFT." Reacting almost on instinct, Susan did as commanded. Green beams streaked by her canopy, followed shortly by a darting Nial.

The fight had not gone well so far. The Minbari were coordinated, and had driven right through the heart of their formation like a wildly spiraling dagger. Red Delta Leader, the leader of Red Delta's second flight, and over half the squadron were all dead. Blue Delta was in even worse condition. Green Alpha, shockingly, had lost only a single Starfury.

Linking up with Ironheart had worked surprisingly well, he had even managed to get a single kill. Susan hadn't even come close. The telepath in Red Delta's second flight, Nancy something or other, Susan couldn't remember, had also managed to get a kill. Or rather, her wingman had. Seconds later, though, both she and her wingman had been killed as the Nials sought retribution. Some time after that, during another rush by the Minbari, she had gotten disoriented and found herself separated from Ironheart, no longer receiving his signal letting her know the true positions of the nearest Minbari. They were both trying to correct that now.

"Susan," his voice came again, "Bogey to your right! He's firing!"

Her Starfury lurched, and warning lights blazoned throughout the cockpit. "I'm hit, I'm hit! I'm hit in the starboard dorsal engine! I'm shutting it down!"

"Coming in, Susan. That bogey's still behind you. I'm maneuvering for a shot."

"Stay with him! Nail him!" She jinked wildly, trying to shake off her pursuer.

"Susan, I can't get him. He's all over the place!"

"Take him out, Jason! I can't get him off my tail!"

"Susan, on the count of three, break hard right. Three... two... one! Break right! Firing!"

Susan spun to starboard and kicked in full thrust. A split second later, a large fireball erupted behind her as Ironheart's rockets and pulser fire shattered the Nial which had been tracking her. A moment later Ironheart pulled his Starfury up next to hers, and she felt the telepathic flow resume.

"We've got a breather for a few seconds. Bester and Black Omega just arrived, and they're tussling with the remaining Minbari. I've got to reform the squadron." So saying, he switched over to the squadron channel and said, "This is Red Delta 5. I am assuming command of both Red and Blue Delta. All Delta Starfuries, gather on my location. Let's see if we can't pull ourselves back into a reasonable fighting force, before the next Minbari strike."
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"We've got to get out of here, before the next Minbari strike," Talia insisted. They had stayed in their assigned room as ordered throughout the battle so far. But in the last few minutes the far wall had grown extremely hot. Flammable materials near it had begun to smoke, and Lyta had yanked the sheets and padding off of the bed frames to keep them from erupting. The temperature in the room had shot up by at least fifteen degrees, and they were both sweating profusely.

"We were told it was safest to stay here," Lyta replied.

"If we stay here, we're going to cook." Not waiting for a response, she unlocked and opened the door. Stupid military lingo, she thought to herself. Why call it a hatch when it is obviously a door?

They emerged into a scene of bedlam. Half of a corpse drifted down the corridor. A substantial plasma fire was burning at one end, and they ducked to one side as a damage control party, in full spacesuits and lugging firefighting gear, went barreling past. The heat was intense, and the area was rapidly filling with acrid smoke, so they dove towards the far end of the corridor. Talia grabbed Lyta's hand, to ensure they were not separated. Reaching another hatch, they opened it and entered another corridor, this one more peaceful. They continued along it for a good while, wanting to put more space between themselves and that plasma fire. Eventually they just stopped, and huddled up along the bulkhead.

"We should be safe, now," Talia said. She seemed to be trying to reassure herself, as much as Lyta. The words had barely left her mouth before the ship heaved again. The bulkhead near the end of the corridor, just in front of the hatch through which they had entered, seemed to blister inwards, glowing a bright red. For a split second they caught the faintest trace of a green beam, much diffused, punching through to impact the far wall. Once again the heat in the corridor skyrocketed. This time, however, it was coupled with the shrill whistling of air being sucked out into vacuum.

Lyta bolted upright. "We have to get out of this corridor before air pressure makes these hatches impossible to open." Talia had no idea what she was talking about, but getting away seemed like a good idea. Picking a hatch at random, Lyta pushed it open and dove through, slamming it after them.

They found themselves in a large room containing a group of fully spacesuited individuals, seated before various computer consoles. A number of displays showed the exterior of the ship. The view was horrific. Bits and pieces of destroyed vessels drifted everywhere. The exterior of the Nova burned in a dozen places, just in the little bit they could see in the displays. To one side of the room, an actual window looked out into space, the Minbari ship visible in the distance. The view traced along the length of a giant cannon, which fired as they entered.

"Another miss."

Someone else swore, then said, "Try adjusting two degrees up and to the right. Fire as soon as it's recharged." He noticed them. "You two! What the hell are you doing here? Why aren't you suited up?"
"The…" Lyta stopped and took a breath. "The corridor was hit, exposed to vacuum. We went through the first hatch we could find, before the air go too thin."

He swore again, then pointed to a corner. "All right, you'll have to stay. Just keep out of the way."

They both dutifully went to the indicated corner, and he returned to his displays, preparing for the next shot.

"Power's getting spotty, Lieutenant," they heard someone say.

"Just fire when it's recharged. We've lost almost half our forward guns. The power draw shouldn't be too great, given what's left."

As Lyta and Talia watched, half of a Starfury seemed to tumble out of space and smack into one of the displays. That screen dissolved to static. Talia grabbed Lyta's hand. "Jason is out in that. He could be hurt. He could be dead. I have to know. Susan's out there to."

"We can't bother these people. They're busy trying to keep us all alive."

"We...we could search ourselves...telepathically."

"It's to far."

"Not if we work together, combine our strength. You're better at this than I am, Lyta. I need your help."

Lyta studied her friend. Talia was weeping, nearly hysterical. The tears formed large puddles under her eyes and along the bridge of her nose, held in place by surface tension in the zero-G environment. She sighed. She had no desire to reach her mind out into that abattoir, but her friend needed her. "Alright," she said gripping her hand tightly.

They expanded their minds, reaching out into the void they could see just beyond the window, searching for the minds of the people they loved. Searching… Searching… What the hell was that?

Lyta's eyes widened in understanding. Her eyes darted to the targeting display around which the spacers were hovering. If she understood it correctly… "They're going to miss again," she whispered.

"Firing...miss," she heard a voice say.

"Frag it! Recharge."

Lyta leaped to her feet and, still holding tightly to Talia's hand, dragged the woman across the deck. She jabbed her finger at the targeting display. "Here. You have to fire here."

The Lieutenant rounded on her, shouting, "Lady, get back to that God damned corner, before I throw you out into the corridor."

"You're going to miss again. The Minbari are there. You have to aim there."
"And what are you supposed to be, some kind of fortune teller? Or maybe you've got a Ph.D. in bullshit. What you aren't is anywhere in my chain of command, so sit your ass down."

"Telepath. I'm a telepath."

"Great. Then you know what I'm thinking."

She took that as an invitation, looking into his mind. He really was thinking about throwing them out into the corridor, which might very well be vacuum by now. How could she get him to listen? Looking deeper, she sunk past his conscious thoughts, almost doing a deep scan. His subconscious was filled with thoughts of impending death, driven by his atavistic terror. But, just beyond that was a hint of… she blushed furiously. "I'll have dinner with you."

"Excuse me?"

"Just humor me, and I'll have dinner with you. Look, you've missed every single shot. How could trying my coordinates hurt?"

He studied her for a few seconds, then said, "Johnson, place the next shot here." He tapped the screen.

"No, here now," she said, moving his finger. "They're in motion. You'll have to let me give you the location just when you're ready to shoot."

"Cannon recharged," came the call.

The Lieutenant raised his eyebrows at her. She drug his finger to a new point on the display. "These coordinates," he ordered. "Fire."

"Hit!" came an ecstatic shout. All eyes swivelled to Lyta, some stunned, others bearing an almost painful hopefulness.

"Lady," the Lieutenant said cautiously, "can you do that again?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I think so."

"Well, hot damn. Mbuta, get on the horn with the bridge. Tell them we can track the, Minbari."

"Just dinner," Lyta said quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"I only agreed to dinner. I wasn't promising anything else."

He chuckled. "Lady, if you can get us out of this alive, then feel free to consider us even." He hesitated. "Though I'd still love to take you to dinner."
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The ship lurched violently. "We are hit, Hiai'sa. Significant damage to deck twelve."

Manier nodded. Things had been going so perfectly. "Well, I suppose they were bound to get lucky sooner or later. Recall the remaining fighters. We are leaving. We've already crippled them. Easy pickings when our fleet arrives. Increase the range and switch to defensive fire."

"Si dromo, Hiai'sa."

Manier cursed silently. He had really wanted to be the one to destroy Starkiller, but he wasn't going to risk losing his ship. This battle was a victory. Time to be going.
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Cheers erupted on the bridge of the Nova as they finally got a hit.

"Which gun was that?" Sheridan asked. At the rate things were going, they were still likely to lose unless something significant changed soon, but at least it was something.

"Turret 4, Captain," Takashima said.

"File a commendation for every member of the gun crew."

"Aye, Captain." A light flashed on her console, and she hit a button, then held her hand up to her earpiece. "Captain, Turret 4 is asking that we fire link the rest of the guns to them. They say they can track the Minbari."

"Do we have a targetting lock on the Minbari ship?" he asked excitedly.

"No, Captain. Their stealth fields remain fully operational. The gun crew must be overly excited by their hit. They must think they've stumbled on some secret technique. Who can blame them? I recommend against chaining all of our guns to a single firing solution. It will significantly reduce our chances of achieving further hits."

Sheridan agreed, but then hesitated. Could he afford not to follow up on all possibilities? "Laurel…" he said hesitantly. "Ask them why they think they can track the Minbari.

She bent to her task, then turned back to him with a confused look on her face. "Captain, they say...they say they have telepaths down there. No further explanation."

Sheridan's eyes widened. "Link all guns to whatever firing solution Turret 4 plugs in. I want every gun we've got left to fire together. Let's hit them with everything we've got."

Takashima was obviously still confused but she didn't question the order. "Guns ready. Firing." On the screen, the seven guns still operational in their forward arc spoke as one. The salvo reached out and slammed into the Minbari ship, caving in a large area of the forward hull. Flames gouted from the breach, and the ship fell into a tumble. Wild cheers erupted on the bridge.

"Captain, we've got a problem," Takashima said softly. "That last shot burned out the power runs to all of our cannon. I'm afraid we're out of the fight, until repairs can be initiated. The Minbari have lost their stealth field, however. The Lexington is targeting."

Sheridan glanced back at the screen. The Lexington had sailed into view, firing everything it had into the now silent hulk. The heavy cruiser was heavily damaged, and burning in a number of locations, but had received a lot less attention from the Minbari than the Nova had. "Looks like you get this kill, Liz," he murmured to himself. A moment later, the continuing weapons fire hit something critical, and the Minbari vessel detonated.
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"Firing," Susan shouted. Her pulse cannon blazed, and the final Minbari fighter dissolved before her. She couldn't believe it. She'd taken out one of those invincible Nials.

After Ironheart had reforged the Delta squadrons, they had given chase to the remaining Nials. But, Black Omega had the situation well in hand. They had shattered the Minbari formation, and Commander Bester had wracked up another kill. He had been so busy chasing that one down, that he had failed to notice another Nial lining up to take him out. Susan and Ironheart had vectored in. Ironheart's shots had missed, giving Susan the chance for her first victory against the Minbari.

She looked around the now quiet battlefield. The fleet was in complete disarray, and both the Nova and the Lexington looked ready for the scrapyard. How the hell were they going to recover from this?

Commander Sinclair's voice crackled over the channel for the entire fighter group. "Good job people. It may not look it, but you did very well. By now, you should all have figured out that we have a secret weapon. We're able to pierce Minbari stealth using telepathy. Expect that in the days and weeks to come, we will be working to expand upon this advantage. Our loss rate in this engagement was less than three to one. I believe that's a record. Congratulations in particular to Wise Ass. She's the only pilot not in a telepath pairing who managed to get a kill today.

"I know you're exhausted, and I'd love to send you all back to the barn, but we've got missing. Some of your brothers and sisters managed to eject. There are civilians as well who were forced to abandon ship. We're bringing in shuttles for the rescue. You need to help with the search. Get it done people. Come hell or high water, the fleet is leaving this system in no more than four hours. CAG out."
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Deep Hyperspace, Vorlon Empire - December, 2248

The Vorlon known to the younger races as Ambassador Kosh had once again been summoned to address the leaders of his people. He stepped again into the primary consultation chamber of this massive dreadnought. Kosh eyed the thirteen Vorlons who had summoned him.
He bowed respectfully to the council, a gesture they did not return. He felt their anger and worry in the air. Their minds expanded and merged, and the discussion began.

Disaster! Their thought entered his mind. It carried with it all the connotations of a great work, torn asunder. It was rolled in with visions of a planet Earth shrouded in smoke from orbital bombardment. Of a tiny remnant, chased out into space, harried and beaten. Of the inevitable end of everything they had worked and planned for. Most of all, it carried their blame, that they could have stopped it, but had not, at his suggestion.

No. A simple thought, but laced with it was the certain knowledge of the data he had been tracking. Of the readings the temporal sensors unequivocally showed. The Circle remains, intact.

He felt their astonishment. He himself was astonished. It seemed impossible, but the science did not lie. How? They queried.

Unknown. He sent the thought with the assurance that he was looking into it. Managing the problem.

There is no threat?

Kosh hesitated. This was the critical moment. There was a turning point, rapidly approaching, which could derail everything. It would need to be dealt with. But he couldn't afford to panic the council, lest they do something foolish. There is a danger, he finally sent.

Explain.

He sent them a vision. A place where the fleet would find rest and succor. Where they would pause for a time. Where they might be trapped and killed. Where the Circle might die.

Intervention? A victory. At the start of the meeting they would have demanded it. His reassurance that the Circle still held had regained him some of their trust.

Yes. And no. His sending came wrapped up with a need for caution, for not overreacting. Subtlety.

How?

We have the tools we need. He sent them a vision of what was needed, and felt their surprise. Then their appreciation at the appropriateness of his suggestion. Finally, he felt their mirth. Vorlons do not laugh, but if they did, the chamber would have echoed with their howls.
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Shambah, Drazi Space - Exodus Fleet - December, 2248

The jump gate activated, and began to disgorge ships. It was a broken fleet which emerged into Shambah. Their standard practice of scanning the system first had been skipped, as had using their jump engines to enter the system far out into the outskirts of the system. The fleet had needed to get out of hyperspace as quickly as possible. Many ships were still struggling with damage. Some were under tow. The Nova, the first ship to enter the system, still had at least one electrical fire smoldering.

Sheridan was unsurprised to see a trio of Drazi Sun-Hawk cruisers awaiting them. The Nova had come through first in the hopes of intimidating any potential opposition, but it's only functional armament was a single energy mine, and a battered squadron of Starfuries. The Lexington, with their only effective anti ship armaments, was still in hyperspace, bringing up the rear of the fleet. "Open a comm channel," he ordered quietly.

Almost immediately his screen lit up with the image of a pair of Drazi. A pair of very nervous looking Drazi. Here we go again, he thought. "Greetings. I am Captain John Sheridan of the Earth Alliance," he said, with a confidence belied by his battered ship. "Our fleet contains a great number of civilians, and I am responsible for their safety. I ask only that you allow us passage through your territory."

The Drazi shared a look. Yes, they were clearly very nervous. One of them spoke. "I am Ambassador Vizak. You may of course transit our territory, with our blessing. However, might I offer another suggestion?"

Sheridan almost sagged with relief when they gave permission for passage, but the offer of a different suggestion roused his concerns again. Here it comes, he thought. He expected they would demand a steep price. Or perhaps insist they would head in a specific direction, probably into Centauri space. He didn't allow those concerns to touch his face. "And that would be?"

"Come with us to Zhabar. We offer shelter and aid."

"Shelter?" he asked, startled.

"Yes. Welcome, Captain Sheridan. Welcome to the Drazi Freehold."