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.

15. Chapter 14 - Ragnarok

Chapter 14 - Ragnarok

Deneb, Earth Alliance Space - Exodus Fleet - April, 2249

Captain John Sheridan stood upon the bridge of the Nova as it approached the Deneb jump gate. They were close now, the beacon and the gate could be seen despite the mad wash of hyperspace surrounding the structure. Unusually, the Nova was leading the fleet through hyperspace.

"Approaching jumpgate, Captain. Preparing to transit."

"Belay that, Lieutenant Commander," he ordered. "We will not be using the Deneb jumpgate." She turned to him, confused, but he merely continued, "Bring us to within one kilometer of the jumpgate, and then change heading to…" he checked some numbers on his console, "...thirty by sixty-seven."

"Aye, Captain," she called, professionally suppressing her confusion and curiosity.

The navigator entered the new heading into his systems, and then paused. "Captain, that heading is not a valid hyperspace route. It would take us directly into Deneb's mass shadow, where we would be destroyed."

"You have your orders. Laurel, send a transmission to the fleet that they are to follow our path exactly. Cut speed by ninety percent."

Laurel was looking concerned again, but merely said, "Aye, Captain." They continued onward in silence for several more minutes, as the crew began to look more and more concerned.

"Captain," the ensign in charge of communications called out, "I have received contacts from Commanders Sinclair, Gideon, and Levitt. They….would like to know exactly what we are doing."

"Repeat orders that they follow us in exactly." Turning to the sensors and navigations stations, he said, "Keep a sharp eye out. It should be any second now."

"What should be…?" Laurel started to ask.

"Mass shadow directly ahead!" the sensor operator interrupted her.

"Open a jump point," Sheridan called immediately. "Take us into normal space."

"Captain," the Ensign at navigation called, "Deneb is two hundred thousand times more luminous than Sol. If we emerge at this distance the ship will cook. We'll be immobilized in seconds, dead shortly after that."

"Deneb I," Takashima said softly to herself. Snapping her head towards navigation, she commanded loudly, "Open the jump point now, before it's too late." The jump point bloomed before them, it's blue hues spinning a tunnel back into normal space. The Nova slid through that tunnel, and directly into the physical shadow of Deneb I. Light came from every direction. Deneb I was the type of planet still officially known as a "Hot Jupiter," though technically it was so massive that it hovered on the line of being termed a Brown Dwarf. It orbited well within Deneb's corona, and aside from the space directly in the shadow of the planet, the space around them glowed in every direction with the massive luminosity of the upper portion of the star's atmosphere. The planet itself also glowed, its atmosphere superheated by proximity to the Class A star. That atmosphere churned violently, massive storms spun wildly across its surface at astonishing rates, and enormous electrical discharges crackled across the entire visible face of the planet. And then there were the rings.

Deneb I had the most massive ring system anywhere in the Earth alliance...assuming you classified it as a planet rather than failed star. It should have had several moons...or planets...orbiting it, but the tidal forces and solar wind of Deneb kept breaking them up. The space the Nova had emerged into was thick with chunks of rock as far as the eye could see, ranging in size from the minute to the mountainous. The surfaces of many of the larger ones were still molten from their sojourn across the far side of the planet...the sunward side.

Takashima was studying the readings at her station. "Captain, I don't know how you knew about this sweet spot, or how to get here, but it's none too large. The fleet will fit, but we'll have to be careful. Stray too far up or to the sides and the Corona will fry us. Stray into too low an orbit and we'll catch a static discharge from the planet that would put an energy mine to shame."

The officer manning sensors called out, "Jesus, there's something out there! It's massive, definitely artificial, partially obscured by some asteroids."

"Put it on the main screen," Sheridan said calmly, leaning back in his chair.

"Pushing Camera 7 to main screen, aye."

There was something out there. It was largely hidden by a pair of enormous boulders, each the size of a mountain. Even from what little they could see, they could tell it was clearly manufactured. As the rocks slowly slid past it, more and more if it came into view. Before long, its form became obvious. It was an Orion class starbase. It was clearly heavily modified, and also clearly abandoned, but nonetheless it was an Orion...the most common starbase in use by the EA, and a cornerstone of both its military defense and rapid colonial expansion. It was a friendly face to those who had long been away from home.

"Open a channel to the fleet."

"Channel open, Captain."

"To all personnel and passengers of this Exodus Fleet, this is Captain John Sheridan. I wish to bid you welcome. Welcome to Ragnarok Station."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The space was vast, cavernous really. But aside from the shuttles in which they had arrived, it was populated only by a pair of lonely looking tugs, and some discarded dockworker gear. Nothing else stirred as the boarding ramps of each shuttle lowered, disgorging a host of heavily armed troops, sealed up in their vacuum gear. They were followed by multiple teams of engineers, and finally by the military leadership of the fleet. As the Marines spread out across the hangar bay, the initial report from the engineers came in to Sheridan's pad. Looking at it, he reached up and unsealed his helmet, taking it off and turning to the group of officers and NCOs behind him. "The air's perfect, temperature too. It doesn't make sense. This place should be mothballed."

Those officers comprised Sheridan's now expanded Command Staff. Said staff included the Captains of the military ships (including Commander Bester), their First Officers, and the CAG, as well as the Dr. Franklin, Lieutenant Commander Garibaldi, and the top NCOs from the Marines and GroPos. Upon his statement, everyone began removing their helmets as well.

"So what exactly is this place?" Garibaldi wanted to know.

"I told you, it's Ragnarok Station."

"Which means nothing to me," Sinclair responded, "or, I'm guessing, any of the rest of us. I've never heard of this place. I don't even know why anyone would want to put it here, much less how it could possibly have been built. I don't suppose you want to shed some light on the subject?"

"Project Ragnarok was the immediate predecessor of Project Exodus. Back during the earliest phases of the war, just after the first few battles, it had become clear that the Minbari held an overwhelming technological advantage over us. We still knew next to nothing about the Minbari, but had already attempted suing for peace, only to be rebuffed. The thinking amongst the upper brass at the time was that the Minbari would prosecute this war the way humans would. It was assumed that they would use their strategic and tactical mobility advantages to bypass and isolate our mobile forces and strike our stationary civilian, industrial, and command and control facilities. The thought was that our planets and systems would be overrun and conquered within months, leaving significant military forces unsupported, to surrender, be hunted down, or simply waste away from a lack of resources. We were further concerned that the Minbari might be like the Centauri, with the intention of enslaving our entire race.

"And so they came up with this place." Sheridan took a deep breath and continued. "We had an Orion Starbase completed, ready to be installed in one of the new frontier systems. All of the modules were completed, ready for transport and final construction in situ. They brought it here and upgunned and uparmored it. It wasn't exactly a low risk operation. I hear they lost quite a few people getting this place set up."

"But what's it for?" Garibaldi asked.

"It was meant to be an unfindable and unbreachable fortress. A base of operations to reorganize, replenish, and repurpose whatever remained of Earth Force. To turn an offensive military into a guerrilla resistance force. A fleet in being with which to eventually free humanity."

"So what happened?"

"Several things. We managed to slow down the Minbari advance by altering the output of our beacons, making the network all but unusable to them. And then we saw that the Minbari don't wage war the way humans would. They went after our military formations first, chasing down and eliminating resistance before taking out any civilian populations. The few ground battles we had also seemed to be about the Minbari eliminating any planetside resistance. You can't have military forces liberate a civilian population if those forces fall before the civilians do. Most importantly, though, was that we realized we had underestimated Minbari capabilities...again.

"Given the limited volume of marginally safe space in this pocket, and the cover provided by all these asteroids and moonlets, it was assumed that the Minbari would be forced to get into extremely close range in order to attack the station. The station was uparmored and upgunned, equipped with the heaviest interceptor grid ever designed, and expected to be packed with more nukes than anyone would have ever considered before the war. The space around the station was thickly mined with even more nukes capable of remote detonation. The intention was to turn the entire area around the station into a kill zone, where even a Sharlin wouldn't last more than a second. I saw some of the early calculations for the place. They thought that with a little luck they might survive an assault by a Minbari fleet a thousand ships strong."

Garibaldi gave a low whistle. Lochley summed up what everyone was thinking. "Obviously, they were wrong."

"As I said, we had underestimated the Minbari capabilities. First, in their navigation and sensor capabilities. The fact that they could continue to press forward even without the beacon network was a certain sign that they would eventually find this place. But also, in their combat capabilities. Their ships are incredibly robust, far more so than we had initially believed. Just look at how many nukes we had to use to keep them off our back en route to Vreetan. Those Neutron beams also pack more of a punch than any of our engineers were willing to believe. Add that to the speed and maneuverability they possess, and a fleet of a hundred ships would have no trouble putting an end to this place. Hell, just fifty might do it. But, what really put the final nail in the coffin was the Black Star incident, and a few others like it."

"But that's where you proved that the Minbari could be destroyed by nukes," Takashima argued.

"Yes, but it's also when the Minbari displayed once again that they could do things no one thought possible."

There was a few seconds of silence as everyone considered his words, until Sinclair stated, "the jump point attack."

"Exactly," John replied with a grim smile. "By its very nature, a space station is mostly, well, stationary. Once the Minbari found us, they could take out the station with a single attack, that none of those layered defenses could stop. Oh, all these asteroids might make targeting the station a bit difficult. It might take them a few tries. And they would probably lose a few ships before they realized a jump point attack might be necessary. But the final estimates said the Minbari were not likely to lose more than ten ships in destroying this place. And that made the whole endeavor counter productive. All supply and construction work was stopped. The whole place was mothballed. Earthgov moved on to Project Exodus."

"How do you know about this place? How do you know about any of this?" Levitt asked curiously. "I've never heard a peep of any of it."

"Some people collect coins or art." He smiled to himself, introspectively. "I collect secrets. Black projects. Conspiracies. Secret organizations. They fascinate me. That kind of information is usually a challenge to get, but this one was easy. General Lefcourt worked on Project Ragnarok. I got the information out of him over drinks during our preparations over Mars. He had considered heading this way himself, but he never held out much hope for finding a habitable world rimward. Particularly with how hostile the Ch'Lonas and Koulani have been of late."

"So what are we doing here?" Gideon wanted to know. "If the Minbari will be able to find it, and if it's not an impenetrable fortress, then why are we here? And why are the lights and life support running, if this place was mothballed?"

"We're here," Sheridan said with a small smile, "because even though they stopped provisioning this place and mothballed it, they never retrieved what they had already put in place. I don't know if that was due to the chaos of the war, a bureaucratic oversight, or just possibly someone's idea of contingency planning. Whatever it was, it means that there should be more than enough supplies on hand for us to fully restock the fleet in food, fuel, and ammunition, as well as critical spare parts for our military vessels. And yes, that includes nukes and energy mines. There's far less here in the way of replacements for the spares we have already used for our civilian vessels. But, we can use the empty space in the fleet that was storing many of those parts to stock more munitions. Vreetan proved to me that you just can't have enough nukes on hand.

"Since this place should also be reasonably secure from the Minbari, at least for a while, we'll have time to rotate the civilians onto the station and let them stretch, while we run the entire fleet through a good hard maintenance period."

John met the gaze of every one of the Officers and NCOs around him. "For right now, though, I want you each to take command of your assigned sections. Search this place from top to bottom, and inventory anything and everything that can be of use to us, from the nukes in the magazines to the handles on the kitchen sink. I'll want a full report by this time tomorrow; though check in periodically with anything interesting. Stay in close contact with the Marines; at least until we find out why this place has been powered up. I don't like mysteries, but we can't waste the time on a full search before we get started. Stay alert. Stay cautious. Stay alive. Now get to work."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sheridan and Garibaldi were meeting aboard the bridge of the Nova. Though the bridge was technically fully staffed, even a casual observer would note that it was more lightly crewed than usual. A substantial portion of the military crews had been pulled to the space station, to oversee the civilian work teams and facilitate the multiple ongoing projects. Between the full raft of maintenance work ordered fleet wide, the location and collection of provisions and the shuffling of, well, everyone onto the station for rest and recuperation; an awful lot of oversight was necessary. Laurel Takashima was one of the officers leading the work, and John noted that the bridge simply didn't feel right without her.

"Well," Garibaldi said, interrupting his musings, "it's official. Someone has definitely been here."

"How can you be sure?"

"They didn't try to hide their tracks. The computer noted when the air and power were turned back up to operational levels...several months ago now. We also found the station's supply manifest. It was kept current right up to the point when Project Ragnarok was shut down and the station mothballed. We've done some reviews, and somebody has definitely been raiding the larder. Not so much in the food area, though that to, but quite a bit in terms of weapons. Everything from nukes to interceptors."

"How many weapons?" Sheridan asked in concern.

"An awful lot, but don't worry, there's still more than enough on hand to fully restock the fleet. If I had to guess, I'd say that after Earth fell, somebody in one of the colonies who knew about this place got the bright idea to come and arm up in the hopes of fending off the Minbari. Good for them. Not that it will do them much good in the end. Then again, maybe they just wanted to go down swinging."

"A grim thought. Let's go through the list of what we know is here. I want to ensure that we do this as efficiently as possible. We should be safe here from the Minbari, at least for a while, but the longer we sit the more likely they are to be ahead of us in force. I'd like to avoid facing another potential encirclement."

"Can we be sure they've even made it this deep into EA territory?"

"You tell me. Have you picked up anything from Deneb IV?"

"Not a peep."

"Deneb IV was a thriving colony with a substantial population and even a civilian shipyard. If we haven't detected any signals at all, then far and away the most likely answer is that the Minbari have already smashed the colony. Which means the Minbari have already been to this system and have the run of the place. Which also means this station isn't quite as secure as we would like."

"But," Garibaldi countered, "it also means the Minbari have already been here and gone, and didn't notice this place at all. They are less likely to look for us someplace they think has already been cleared."

"There is that."

"Relax, John. Something's gotta go right for us. Every once in awhile."

An alarm sounded. "Jump point forming!" called the young ensign manning sensors. She was not the usual officer at that station, and John wondered how well his ship would fight with so much of his crew assigned to other duties.

"Man battlestations!" he called out, then turned an exasperated eye on Garibaldi. "You were saying, Michael?"

"I was saying that my battle station is elsewhere," he said sheepishly. He hurried off the bridge, and John focused on the hyperspace vortex now spinning on the main display.

"We're getting something...six vessels emerging."

Damnit, it's too soon! How the frag did the Minbari find us so fast? The fleet's not in any shape for a fight. "Classes?"

"Reading…" she gasped and double checked her displays, but John could already see why she was so shocked. She continued her report, nonetheless. "Reading four Hermes class combat transports and two Tethys class cutters. Captain, they're Earth Force."

The transports were enormous things, dwarfing the tiny cutters flanking them. John couldn't believe his eyes. He wanted to shout. He wanted to cry. Instead, he made sure that his Captain face was firmly affixed, and ordered, "Open a comm channel."

"We're already being hailed, Captain."

"Then put it on screen." A moment later the screen flickered, and John's jaw dropped even further at the image displayed there. The face was a few years older, having put on more than a few new seams, but it was entirely recognizable to John's eyes. One of his heroes. One of everyone's heroes as far as he knew. The face staring back at him belonged to one of the great leaders of the Dilgar war.

"Admiral Dean, it's a pleasure, sir. I am...surprised to see you."

"Hah!" came back the mirthful reply. "That probably means you thought I was dead," his eyes slid to John's rank insignia. "Captain...Sheridan, isn't it?"

"You know me, Admiral? We've never met. I'm positive I would have remembered that."

"Well, hell son, who doesn't know Nuke 'em Sheridan? They sent out that damned video all over the Earth Force, after you took down the Black Star."

"Ahh...yes, Admiral. I got lucky. And no, Admiral, I didn't think you were dead. But, I was aware that you had retired over a decade ago. And that you had settled on…"

"Deneb IV. Which is where I got pulled back in. After nearly all of our assigned ships and officers returned to Earth to fight...and die…in the Battle of the Line, Governor Vasiliev became somewhat animated about rebuilding a defense. He called up everyone with a scrap of experience in anything remotely resembling the military, and I ended up in charge of the whole damned thing. I should be out feeding the local water fowl. Instead these old bones are stuck in zero G, trying to build up a force that might pose more of a threat to the Minbari than just death by laughter. But, Captain Sheridan, I think you might just have an interesting story of your own. And I am more than eager to hear it. Spill."

"Err..Admiral, it's a bit of a long story. Perhaps we could discuss this on Ragnarok? I think we might all be a bit more comfortable."

"Great idea, Captain! Let's meet aboard the station in half an hour. You bring the grub. I'll bring the beer."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gideon stifled a yawn and leaned back against the bulkhead. He and the rest of the command staff were standing around, just waiting. An hour ago they had all been summoned to this corridor on Ragnarok, and were awaiting entry to the conference room in which Sheridan had been meeting alone with the Admiral for the last several hours. Despite his exhaustion he noted that Elizabeth and Sandra both looked decidedly nervous. Bester kept a much better poker face. For himself, if Admiral Dean decided that he needed to be cashiered for his actions, then he would thank the man and go and get some damned sleep.

He also noted several unfamiliar faces...presumably the Admiral's command staff. They were an interesting group; a mix of the very old and very young which reminded him very much of the the Exodus fleet's own makeup.

Elizabeth crossed the corridor and leaned up against the bulkhead next to him. "I still can't believe it. Richard Dean, Admiral extraordinaire. Alive, and all the way out here. What are the odds? I'd heard he was dead."

So we're talking now? Ever since she had called that disastrous vote, and he had sided with Sheridan, she hadn't said a word to him. She'd actively avoided him, and he'd written her off as a happy memory. Then, last night, after the end of one in an unending string of very long shifts, she had knocked on his door just as he was about to rack out. They were both staying aboard the station, running the retrieval and replenishment operations. He had answered the door, and she had simply pushed past him into the room. Expecting a fight, for her to finally vent her anger at him, he had closed the door and turned to her.

Instead, without saying a thing, she had kissed him, then proceeded to practically tear his clothes off. They had made love throughout the four hours he had set aside for sleep. When his alarm had gone off, she had risen and hurriedly dressed, again without a word, and left. He was left to wonder what the hell had just happened. Was she opening back up to him, or just scratching a one time itch. Jesus, women are even more confusing than the Minbari. Not that I'm complaining.

"Apparently not. Just think, if we'd just come this way right off the bat, we'd have linked up with him almost immediately after General Lefcourt's death. We wouldn't have had to go through all the horror we did, lose all the people we did."

She shrugged. "I don't know. Sure, we went through some tough moments, but we also learned an awful lot that we might never have otherwise. And, likely, we'd have just gone through some completely different horrors. Maybe we'd have lost fewer people. Or maybe we'd have lost the whole fleet."

He took the plunge. "Are we good? Given how things have been for the last few weeks, I kinda assumed you were mad at me."

She looked at him for a long moment. "Furious," she finally said. "But, I always knew you only did what you thought was best. I can respect that."

"Sooo….dinner tonight?"

She didn't have a chance to answer, as the door finally opened to reveal Captain Sheridan. "Come on in people." The officers began to file into the large conference room, taking seats around the table within. Admiral Dean was of course seated at the head of the table. Sheridan was the last to be seated, taking his place at the far end.

"I'm glad we had a chance to meet like this," the Admiral began. "Perhaps we should start with introductions. Captain?"

At his prompting Sheridan went through his officers in the room, starting with Sinclair on his right, then moving counterclockwise to Garibaldi, Gideon, and Franklin; then crossing the table to Bester, and coming back with Lochley and finally Levitt. The Admiral greeted each one in turn. Once Sheridan was done, he began introductions of his own. The six officers he had brought each commanded one of the vessels which had brought the Admiral to Ragnarok. Not one ranked above Lieutenant Commander.

"It's a true pleasure to meet you all," the Admiral said once the introductions had been completed. "Now, in order that we might all be current as to the existing situation, I have asked Captain Sheridan to provide a high level overview of the activities of the Exodus fleet over the last several months. Captain?"

Sheridan rose and stepped to a large display on the wall behind him. He hit a button, and it displayed the Exodus fleet as it existed, just a few day prior to the Battle of the Line. "Thank you Admiral. The Exodus fleet was conceived of as an ark, conveying the best and brightest of humanity beyond the boundaries of the Earth Alliance and the war to a new home, a refuge where we might begin again, to regrow and rebuild. It hasn't quite worked out that way." He then launched into a rapid and high level overview of the activities of the fleet over the last year. He briefly detailed the makeup of the fleet, the mad scramble out of the solar system, the attack on Mars, and the detonation of project Dead Duck. He changed the display to bring up a map of the known galactic hyperspace network. The route of the fleet appeared, expanding as he went through each of their stops and interactions along the way. From the initial race through EA space, picking up more refugees, to that first lucky kill against a Sharlin, and the initial discovery that telepathy might pierce the Minbari stealth systems. He covered the interactions with the Narn and the Centauri, the battles against raiders, and their attack on and destruction of the Minbari forward supply base. He touched on the disastrous battle against a mere Minbari scout ship, and the horrendous casualties which had come from it. He explained how telepathy had again proved to be critical in fighting the Minbari. He did spend a little extra time explaining the generosity of the Drazi, which had certainly saved the fleet, and the massive battle which they had witnessed as they made yet another running exit from Zahbar.

The Captain then launched into the flight from Drazi space, including the lopsided fight against the Minbari carrier. He covered the contact with the Abbai, the acquisition of their charts, and the technology exchange for their Particle Impeders. He touched on the decision to turn the fleet rimward, and the run through League space, including the bloody Minbari infiltration of the Midway, and the brief contact with the Descari. The Captain described the rearguard action against the Minbari fleet during the chase towards Vreetan, and the unexpected protection given by the Vree fleet. Finally, he covered the run back through EA space and to Ragnarok station.

The whole presentation sounded incredibly clinical and cold to Gideon's ears. It didn't quite take half an hour, which seemed far too short a time to relay events which felt like they had taken an eternity. It almost completely glossed over all of the horror and terror of those events. All of the tedium and exhaustion and desperation. All of the times they had thought that surely they had met their end. All of the confusion and anger and internal conflict. It never came even remotely close to mentioning the Council of Captains or any of the foolishness which had arisen from it.

"Thank you, Captain," Dean said, nodding for Sheridan to resume his seat. "Lieutenant Commander," he said, nodding towards one of his officers, "please make our guests aware of what has been happening out here." The indicated officer, a tall and lanky ginger, arose and walked to the display.

"In case you missed it earlier, my name is Lieutenant Commander Nick Locarno, Deneb Force."

He attempted to launch into his presentation, but Franklin interrupted him, raising a hand. "Excuse me, Lieutenant Commander. Deneb Force?"

The young man blushed, becoming flustered, but the Admiral cut in smoothly. "So far as we know, Earth was destroyed after the Battle of the Line. We've had no contact from Earth Force, and precious little with other EA systems since then. The men and women who make up the forces currently protecting Deneb are practically all home grown. A fact of which these people are rightfully proud. You'll just have to forgive us our little indiscretion, Doctor."

"Of course, Sir."

"Please continue, Nick."

Locarno cleared his throat, then brought up an image of the local area of space. "I suppose it all began at the start of the war. We have always had trouble with the Ch'Lonas and Koulani. It's been raids, mostly...them trying to push us and each other around. Earth Force," he blushed again, "had to smack them each around a few times, but it was never anything terribly serious, at least not since the near war we had when we first made contact with each of them." He took a deep breath. "That all changed when it became known throughout the local area that the Minbari intended to take us down. At that point, they stepped up their actions. Maybe they decided it meant we were weak. Or perhaps they just wanted to tear off a piece of the EA before it all fell to the Minbari. Whatever the reasons, the raids substantially increased in both power and frequency. At that point in time the local garrison for this part of the frontier had been only partially reassigned to the front lines. We still had a few dreadnaughts, about a dozen heavy cruisers, and a about a hundred lesser vessels. A not unimpressive force, but certainly not enough to conduct a war against not one but two hostile powers. Even ones as unimpressive as the Ch'Lonas and Koulani. Requests for reinforcements were denied. The war against the Minbari was not going well, obviously, and no forces could be spared. In fact, we were expecting even more forces to be drawn away. So, the local forces commander, Rear Admiral West, in consultation with then retired Admiral Dean, set up a trap. Before our forces could be too far depleted, the Ch'lonas and Koulani were both baited into sending in the bulk of their raiding forces. We had allowed them to capture information indicating that we would be testing a prototype EA wonder weapon at a hidden location. Said weapon would be undergoing a full shutdown for repairs and adjustment, and would be all but defenseless, ripe for the taking. It was a perfect opportunity for them to capture said weapon and prevent it from being used against them.

"They each sent a major fleet, but instead of finding a semifunctional Earth Force prototype, they found only each other. True to form, they both attacked, and only began to disengage once both sides had taken considerable damage. Which is when the EA fleet showed up. It was a slaughter, and when the Ch'Lonas and Koulani were finally able to break out and flee, they had each taken losses of over ninety percent. At that point, just a small increase in available forces would have allowed us to strike deep into enemy territory and cripple their ability for come back for at least a generation. Admiral West once again requested additional forces to finish the job. Instead, he was given a pat on the head and ordered to send half of his remaining forces back to Earth. We were told that the Ch'lonas and Koulani were beaten, and wouldn't be bothering us again.

"That was true, right up to the Battle of the Line. A few months before then, most of our remaining defense forces were drawn away, including all of our dreadnaughts and heavy cruisers, and the bulk of the remaining smaller ships. Admiral West and all of his officers went with them. All that remained was a single Orestes class system monitor, a couple of dozen Tethys class cutters, and a handful of Hermes class combat transports; all crewed by a undertrained and undermanned local reserve unit. Oh, and of course our fixed defenses, including Zanzibar station. And then the Battle of the Line happened, and we realized we were on our own. And, after the news of Earth's fall started to make its way out to the local powers, we started to notice signs that the Ch'lonas and Koulani might be returning...gutted mining craft, missing transports, that sort of thing. It started to look like the local bugaboos might take us out before the Minbari had a chance to.

"Governor Vasiliev decided that we weren't going to just sit around and wait for that to happen. He rammed through the largest armament program practical, and probably a few steps beyond into the impractical. Our position out here on the frontier, as well as our climate and unique skyscape, meant that we were a popular destination for retirees...particularly military retirees. The Governor called them up, Admiral Dean included, as well as anyone else with even a scrap of military or paramilitary training. And he used those forces to train up the hordes of new recruits who had volunteered. We pulled old ships, anything the least bit military, out of the scrapyard and did our best to repair and press them back into service. Ancient Artemis class frigates, Laertes and Olympus class corvettes, that sort of thing. Small units that were long in the tooth even during the Dilgar war. Fortunately, Admiral Dean knew about this place, and those units suddenly became very nuke heavy. Deneb Force was born.

"We weren't quite ready when the Ch'Lonas made their first major assault. But then again, they weren't ready for us. I think they hoped to seize the planet before anyone else could lay claim, because their fleet, despite having a few dozen warships, was very heavy on troop transports. Not a one made it to the surface or onto the station. You'll pardon the expression, but we tore them a new asshole, an experience they won't soon forget.

"Unfortunately, the Ch'Lonas and Koulani seemed to have settled their differences. They each continued to press the attack against us, but no longer seemed to fight with each other. A few months ago the Koulani punched a force into this system lead by four battleships and a half dozen battlecruisers. That fleet likely comprised the bulk of their remaining force projection capabilities. We lost a lot of good ships and people turning it back. That included the EAS Minotaur, our Orestes class Monitor and only truly heavy unit. Since then we've been using what ships we have left to try to keep any further attacks at bay. The Koulani seem to be spent, the Ch'Lonas attacks are once again on the upswing. They've nearly hit the planet a few times, and Zanzibar has a few new beauty marks, but remains otherwise intact and functional."

He hit a button, and the display switched to a view of Zanzibar station. It was a standard Orion class Starbase. It looked practically identical to Ragnarok, though the practiced eye could see that it carried both less armor and fewer weapons. It was a familiar and comforting sight, but it was what was in the background that pulled gasps or murmurs of surprise from the unsuspecting Exodus officers. "It is that functionality which was of the most concern to us, though the primary task assigned to Zanzibar was completed less than a week ago.

"What the frag are we looking at?" Garibaldi asked into the near silence.

"You may or may not have been aware, but Zanzibar, and to a lesser extent Deneb IV, was renowned for its production line of Achilles class freighters, one of the most productive shipyards in the entire EA. We were already producing ships at an extremely high rate in support of the war effort. After news of the Battle of the Line reached us, we switched production to a new model, and more than doubled production rates. We thought seriously about trying to switch to warship production, or even just arm the Achilles as Q-ships. But either of those would have taken a substantial period of time for line conversion; and that's not even considering the fact that we lacked the necessary tooling for weapons production in the first place. If we tried to produce a navy we were looking at the very real possibility that we would be overrun before the first unit was completed. And even if we did manage to get them rolled out in time, the finished units would be of limited value against dedicated Koulani and Ch'Lonas warships. They certainly wouldn't be worth a damn against the Minbari. So, we realized that the effort of producing warships was simply not worth the returns. Which left our consciences clear to pursue the course of action we had been hoping to from the beginning."

Lochley's eyes widened in understanding. "It's an Exodus fleet. You're building your own damned Exodus fleet."

"Built, Commander. We built our own damned Exodus fleet. As I said, that task was completed less than a week ago, as you can see by that swarm of Achilles in the background of the image. It's extremely small and barebones compared to your fleet. But it might just give our people a chance. The standard Achilles class freighter has a crew of three and is capable of hauling one thousand metric tons. The cargo pods have always had a passenger module option, but it was rarely used, and not capable of handling the numbers we were looking at for the duration we expected we might need. We also thought that the engine power of the freighter might be a little anemic for our needs. So we did a complete overhaul of the module and the ship itself. The new model we designed has much more robust life support, improved facilities for maintaining health over an extended zero-G voyage, and thirty seven percent greater acceleration. We'll be able to cram in a thousand passengers per ship, along with basic supplies, and we now have a fleet of two hundred and fifty of them. However, fifty will not be carrying passengers, being designated for additional storage and as moving spares. As of right now, the passengers have been selected and the crews trained. We're just looking for the right opportunity to sneak through Ch'Lonas territory, and we'll be gone."

"I'm afraid that's where your information is outdated, Lieutenant Commander," Admiral Dean broke in. "Plans have changed. Have a seat please."

"Admiral?" he asked, a look of astonishment on his face.

"Have a seat, Nick."

Once the officer had resumed his seat, the Admiral leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers behind his head. He addressed the room. "The arrival of the original Exodus Fleet poses both an opportunity and a challenge...for both fleets. We could send off both fleets in separate directions. Wisest not to keep all your eggs in one basket, and all that. In this case, I don't think that would actually be the wisest course."

"Admiral, our plans…" Locarno objected.

"Will have to change, Lieutenant Commander." The Admiral sighed. "Our plans always had a hint of desperation in them. We simply don't have the power projection capacity to guard the fleet through Koulani or Ch'Lonas territory. Creating a diversion and sneaking the fleet through was always going to be a high risk endeavor. Captain Sheridan's fleet, on the other hand, has some real firepower and a good bit of experience getting through some tight squeezes. He has assured me he has a plan which will get you through."

"I believe I said it was a work in progress, Admiral," Sheridan tried to cut in, but Dean just kept on speaking.

"Regardless, not only will our fleet have better odds if it joins with the original Project Exodus fleet, the reverse is also true, and we'll both save more people."

"How is that, Admiral?" Sinclair asked curiously.

Admiral Dean collected his thoughts for a moment, looking around the room. "The problem with the Deneb fleet is that the Achilles just isn't very big. Finding room for supplies was tricky enough. There is simply no room for spare engines or reactors. Nor would we have the capability to install them mid voyage. This fact means we had to set aside fifty ships just to carry supplies and to act as backups, should we need to "change horses" mid stream. However, the Project Exodus fleet doesn't have these problem. Between the megafreighters, the repair and support crews and equipment, and all of the spares you have used up over the last several months, there is more than enough space to carry spare parts for the Achilles freighters. And you'll still have room to spare for all of the food, fuel, and munitions you choose to grab. So with minimal adjustment we can pack twice the passengers into each of our Achilles, with no need to leave some empty as spares."

"That would take the carrying capacity of our Achilles from two hundred thousand to five hundred thousand," Locarno said, nodding. "That would certainly be a major improvement. It's a lot more people than we had selected to make the trip, even if you count the alternates. I suppose we could go through another round of selections though."

"No, Nick. No more lotteries. Given all of the retirees and late life colonists, this settlement always had an older than average population. It makes evacuating the young a lot easier. We're only going to take the current passengers and the alternates. That represents essentially the entire colony up to the age of twenty-six and families with young children. It's the heart of what we were trying to save, and now we can take them all."

"But Admiral, that leaves nearly a hundred thousand seats empty! Why not evacuate some more?"

Admiral Dean sighed. "Because those seats won't be empty, Nick. That's the benefit to the Project Exodus folks. Right now their fleet moves at a damned crawl. In taking on any civilian that could reach them, they literally filled their fleet with barely space worthy craft. Shuttles, lunar transports, personal yachts, intercontinental hoppers...anything and everything that was just barely capable of breaking orbit. Ships that can generally carry a few dozen people at best, less than a handful at worst. I've reviewed the logs. Not only do those craft substantially slow the fleet's maximum travel speed, they have also been far and away the largest consumers of spare parts and labor hours to keep them running. In system stops for repair and replenishment are considerably extended just keeping those ships operational. It was a laudable effort to keep as much of humanity alive as possible. But, it's also an anchor slowing them down, at a time when they need every advantage to stay ahead of the Minbari. They're going to relinquish a few thousand of those craft to us...the slowest and most labor intensive...for seats on those Achilles. That transition should dramatically improve the travel speed of the fleet, while also reducing the drain on available spare parts and wear on maintenance craft and equipment."

Levitt cleared her throat. "Your pardon, Admiral, but most of those craft are private property. Their owners may fight the prospect of relinquishing the only real wealth they still possess."

He gave her a sour look. "You may recall, Commander, that your fleet is under Martial Law? The civilians can deal with it, or be left behind. Or put out an airlock, their choice. Leaving those craft in service is a danger to every person in the expanded fleet, which I will not accept. Besides, we have a better use for those small craft."

"Sir?"

"One of the challenges of moving on from this system, for either the Deneb fleet or the Project Exodus fleet, is slowing or stopping Minbari pursuit. Once the Minbari get here, we'll put up the best fight we can. But, the whole reason Project Ragnarok was never activated was because we realized it had no real chance of stopping the Minbari, just bleeding them. We were hoping to buy some breathing room by launching as soon as possible. But Sheridan's fleet will need at least a couple of weeks to replenish, refit and run maintenance on the remaining vessels. We'll need about the same amount of time to adjust the Achilles freighters for higher occupancy. You'll want to be in peak condition to attempt a breakthrough of Ch'Lonas or Koulani space. So, if the Minbari come early, we'll need to give them a real fight. Zanzibar and certainly Ragnarok carry a lot of punch, but any stationary asset is of limited value against the Minbari. And currently our mobile assets are extremely limited. Those thousands of civilian small craft offer a potentially significant asset for use against the Minbari. No, none of them could hold a candle to a Nial. But, pack one full of warheads and strap on a single use rocket, and you've got a weapon system that should put some serious hurt on the Minbari. Particularly when employed by the hundreds, or even thousands. We were already building up this capacity with our local small craft. Add in the ones you'll be trading us, and we'll have a truly significant force."

"Are you talking about nuclear kamikazes, Admiral?" Gideon felt compelled to ask.

"Nuclear, yes. Kamikazes….only if that is all that works. We're currently hoping that AIs, which we've been building a stockpile of, will do the trick. We won't be throwing human pilots into suicide attack...at least not for the first attack."

"AIs have never been successful in combat against the Minbari before."

"Yes, but they were primarily used as a means to improve targeting. Your own experiences show that the best way to defeat stealth, aside from telepathy, is to get into point blank range. A ramming attack is the definition of point blank range."

"We used AI driven missiles in the war, also with no effect, Admiral." Gideon wasn't sure why he was still arguing, but he felt compelled to point this fact out.

"Always in limited numbers. I checked the records. In almost every case, they ran afoul of Minbari point defense. It's something we should have noticed before, but at that stage of the war we were busy trying anything and everything to defeat their stealth, and were already pretty convinced that nothing would work. The moment an attempt failed to bear fruit, we immediately moved on to the next."

"That doesn't mean it will work this time, Sir."

"No, it does not. We are prepared to utilize human pilots, should that AIs prove ineffective. Of course, that requires that we survive the first battle, in order that we might change tactics. Best if we think positive. But, I think we all need to face the fact that anyone left behind in Deneb to delay the Minbari, including myself and the bulk of the colony's citizens, is already dead. Better to go out slamming into a Sharlin than cowering on the surface while they pick us off one by one from orbit."

That statement left a very uncomfortable silence. Gideon firmly shut his mouth. However, it was Lochley who spoke up next. "I'm curious, Admiral. We seem to be focused on a fight. The Minbari have yet to find Deneb. Is there a reason you feel that discovery is imminent? For that matter, why the need to punch through the Ch'Lonas or Koulani? Could we not just head for Zafran and go around them entirely?"

"Excellent points, Commander. Our initial thought when building the local Exodus fleet was to head through Zafran. To that end, we've been keeping an eye on Zafran, as well as all of the other surrounding systems, sending shuttles through the local jumpgates. If there are no Minbari, or they are far enough away for the shuttle not to be noticed, it returns to report in. If the shuttle doesn't return, we know the system has fallen to the Minbari. Over the course of the last few months, every Earth Alliance system adjoining this one has fallen. They didn't exactly conquer Zafran. However, the Minbari showed up there several months ago, and are maintaining a presence. You may not be aware, but Zafran is considered to be unclaimed territory because several species inhabit it. Humans are only the most recent. The pak'ma'ra and Kinbotal both have settlers there. And there are also the native Wychad. The Minbari have been extracting the humans living there. So far they have elected not to bombard the planet, and their troops are on the surface, searching for any humans and seizing all they find. The limited intelligence we have been able to gather indicates that the other species are attempting to hide the remaining humans. However, while the Minbari have not actively attacked the other races, they are forcibly entering and searching homes and businesses. The locals are simply too afraid to put up much resistance."

Anger and disgust colored the faces of everyone around the table, but the Admiral still had more to say. "As to why I believe the Minbari might show up at any time, the answer is simple. They've been in possession of every system connecting to this one...Earth Alliance or unclaimed territory...for at least a month. In some cases several months. The only exceptions to that rule are Ch'Lonas or Koulani territory. And, as far as we have been able to tell, they appear to be actively exploring from every one of those systems, trying to find us. We are most likely the final remaining system of the Earth Alliance. Frankly, I would be more concerned, but recently something appears to have drawn off the bulk of the Minbari forces."

Sheridan cleared his throat. "Given the timeframe in which that appears to have happened, I'd say the most likely catalyst would be their confrontation with the Vree. Which means the Vree are probably now at war with the Minbari."

"Frag!" Garibaldi blurted. "First us, then the Drazi, and now the Vree. When are the Minbari going to stop? When is the League going to finally wake up and work together to stop them?"

"Based on their recent history," Sinclair answered, "I'd guess never. And that just might be the smartest thing for them. I'm not sure even the united League could stop the Minbari."

"But maybe we could help them. The Vree and the Drazi, helped us. Maybe we should think about what we can do to return the favor."

"No," Admiral Dean cut him off. "If this was the beginning of the war instead of the end of it, I'd argue to do everything we could to coordinate with and support the Vree and Drazi. But there's not much we can do to help them. The Minbari control the territory between us. And it was always the Earth Alliance that had the best resources and industry. That's why we were considered a greater power than the Vree or Drazi, both of whom have higher levels of technology than us. As it stands, there's not much we could offer them. More importantly, our highest priority is moving this fleet out of harm's way and ensuring the survival of the species. Once you're gone, if the opportunity presents itself, we'll do what we can to help the Vree and Drazi. I'm not sure what that will be, but we'll keep our eyes open. But for right now, we need to put every effort into getting the fleets merged and prepared, and getting them on the move. Are there any further questions? Good. You all have a lot of work to do. Dismissed.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sheridan and Dean sat and watched as their subordinates shuffled out of the conference room. Only after the last officer had left, closing the door behind her, did the Admiral lean back in his chair and ask, "Well, John, how did we do?"

"I think they all see the wisdom in combining the fleets, but I don't think many of them are particularly thrilled by the idea. Your man Locarno, in particular, seemed rather upset, though he was covering it well."

"He was the top choice for leading the military contingent of the fleet...a half dozen Tethys class cutters….various models. It was all I could spare, or it would have been more. The Tethys wouldn't be of much use against the Minbari, but they made an ideal choice for shepherding civilian freighters on a hopefully short jaunt. You'll still be getting those boats, by the way, and I'd appreciate it if Nick was left in command. But, either way, he was looking at being in overall military command, and now he'll have to report to someone else."

"I wouldn't dream of challenging your command decisions, Admiral. And you're doing him a favor. Being in command of something like this...frankly, it's one headache after another."

Richard chuckled. "Just figuring that out are we, Captain? Don't I know it. But, Nick's young, and hasn't learned that lesson yet. And it was a recommendation, not a command. This is your fleet, John. You're in the hot seat. I'm not going to second guess your decisions."

"A lot of those decisions were mistakes, Admiral," John said quietly. "We lost a lot of good people because of errors I made."

"That's the job, son. It's the burden we bear. But remember this. I might have made many of those decisions differently. That you allowed that Captain's Council travesty to go on as long as you did...that's particularly concerning. I'd probably have shot them the first day. Or, since I'm rather bloody minded, had them keel-hauled in leaky space suits. That takes a lot of rope, though," he added with a smirk. "But, no matter what I might have said or done differently, the simple fact of the matter is that you are literally the only officer in Earth Force who has had any reasonable amount of success against the Minbari, at all. So, the things I would have said and done differently would almost certainly have ended with the fleet dead, and the hopes for humanity's continued survival extinguished, somewhere along the line. So, no matter how many good people you lost, every other person that is with you is one that you saved. That ends up being a pretty damned good balance."

Sheridan nodded in appreciation, but continued his argument. "Still, sir. A fleet of this importance deserves...needs...a flag rank officer. Admiral, I'd like you to reconsider. As you said, I'm good at fighting the Minbari. But...my leadership, my ability to command these officers outside of battle, that seems to be lacking. You staying behind in this system to delay the Minbari isn't the smartest move. Let me stay behind, do what I do best, and fight off the Minbari. I can do more for the fleet by buying it as much time as possible to get ahead...maybe even to lose the Minbari pursuit. Hell, the Minbari seem to be more than a bit obsessed with me. Just my presence here might draw their focus, and give the fleet more time to escape. You, Sir. You're the one with the ability and leadership to replant and regrow the human race."

"No, son. Building the future is a young man's game. I'm old, and my health isn't great. I might not even make it to the end of the journey, and who would lead the fleet them? Commander Lochley? You might notice that both your fleet and the one I am sending with you are filled with young people. Lefcourt and I did that for a reason. It puts the least burden on the survivors and gives the greatest chance for growth at the end of the journey. Frankly, in reviewing your personnel records, it seems that Lefcourt managed to season the fleet with a significant number of 'Old Salts.' I don't blame him. Given Earth's voracious appetite for defenders, I'm sure it was one of the few things he could do to get any experience in the fleet at all. But, it's an opportunity for me. Over the next week or two I'm going to be contacting all of them, asking them to stay behind and defend Deneb. For every one that chooses to stay and fight, I can transfer a couple of my Deneb boys and girls to your fleet."

"Admiral," John said, shaking his head, "those people have made it this far with the fleet. They deserve the chance to keep going."

"Sticking up for your people. I can appreciate that. Don't worry Captain. It will all be strictly voluntary. But I think you will be very surprised at just how many volunteers I get. As I said, building the future is a young man's game. The old fogeys like me aren't likely to relish the idea. The Earth Alliance is the only home they've ever known. At my age, people don't deal well with change. I'll bet you that most of them would rather go down fighting to defend or avenge their home, than to start from scratch on some alien planet."

"This fleet needs the wealth of experience those officers and enlisted people embody."

"You've had them for several months already, Captain. They've probably already delivered nine tenths of any experience they are likely to pass on. As for the rest...well, you'll just have to figure it out on your own. This is nonnegotiable, Captain. It's voluntary for them, not for you. I'm giving them the option, because I know that I would want the option. And each one that stays means I can transfer more of my young officers and enlisted into your fleet...more than can fit on just those six Tethys I'm giving you. Those kids deserve a chance to survive as well, Captain, even though they're starting out on Deneb IV, rather than Earth or Mars."

"Of course, Sir." John grimaced. "You're completely right. But, I still have to argue one thing. This fleet needs an Admiral, Admiral."

"All right, Captain. I'll consider your request. That's the most I can offer."

"Thank you, Sir.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bester strolled through the office door without bothering to knock, as though he owned the place. He slapped on his best insouciant grin. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Garibaldi?"

Michael looked up in irritation from the pile of work sitting on his desk. "You ever heard of knocking, Bester? I could have been meeting with someone."

"Oh, it's all right. I could tell from your mind that you were alone"

"What the hell? Psi Corp shuts down for a few months, and already you're reading mind's any time you feel like it? You stay the hell…"

He raised both hands, grinning. "Easy. It was just a joke."

Garibaldi grunted. "Not a very funny one."

Bester's grin only expanded. "I supposed that depends which side of the desk you're on. But you did ask to see me. So what can I do for you, Mike?"

"You can start by never, ever, calling me Mike again."

"Then perhaps you should call me Commander. You might try to recall that I am a superior officer."

"No, just a…."

"Just a higher ranking one," Bester cut in, with a grin. "You can do better than that, Mr. Garibaldi. I didn't need to read your mind at all to see it coming." Garibaldi was gritting his teeth, and Bester thought about twitting him again, but then he noticed something resting on display on Garibaldi's desk. "Is that the gun that killed Lefcourt?" he asked, reaching for the weapon."

"Don't touch!" Garibaldi snapped, slapping his hand down on the desk. Once Bester had withdrawn his hand, he continued more calmly, "and yes, it is."

"Why do you have it?"

"Because it was used to kill someone? Because I am the head of fleet security?"

"And why do you have it on your desk?"

Garibaldi hesitated for a long moment, scowling at Bester, but then finally said, "As a reminder. It reminds me that losing control, even for a second, can lead to disaster. Looking at that thing has helped make sure I haven't taken a drink this entire trip, no matter how bad I wanted one." He took a deep breath. "But I didn't ask you here to talk about revolvers. Tell me about Susan Ivanova."

Bester sat down in the most comfortable looking of the trio of seat in front of Garibaldi's desk. "Ace pilot. One of our best. Low level telepath who just recently was discovered. A P1. She has some connections to both Captain Sheridan and Commander Sinclair through her deceased brother, Ganya. And, apparently, she is a traitor. Possibly also a serial killer or copycat serial killer. Currently the most wanted person, man or woman, in the fleet. And she had help. Frankly, it is beyond me why Ms. Winters, Ms. Alexander, and Deputy Holloran are walking around free, rather than being locked up in the brig."

"That one wasn't my call, though I agree with it. They were committing crimes, however, the Captain felt it was with good intention. Technically, he pardoned them, which is within his authority. But that doesn't answer my question. Or, rather, I didn't ask the right question. I know all about Susan Ivanova. She's not the traitor. Tell me about that thing wearing her skin."

"Really, Mr. Garibaldi? You buy into this fairytale about a hidden personality rising up and wiping away the woman who was the darling of the fleet? It's pure nonsense. Just ask the experts."

"And who would they be?"

"Well, me, for one. Or any Psi Cop. Or any of our telepaths who focus on mental surgery. Or, if you don't trust telepaths, any psychiatrist or psychologist who specializes in personality structure or telepathic manipulation. Any of them should be able to tell you that what Ms. Alexander was suggesting was pure fantasy; entirely impossible. The closest thing we have is the Death of Personality, and that takes a substantial amount of time and effort by a telepath, and leaves a functionally empty shell. Does that sound like Ms. Alexander's instantly arising and fully formed personality, without an implementing telepath? Frankly, Ms. Alexander has pulled the wool over your eyes. She's clearly still working with Susan."

"Talia backs up her story."

"I read the report. Ms. Winters was semi-conscious, with a significant concussion, given to her by Ensign Ivanova. Her account of matters is highly unreliable, and clearly influenced by Ms. Alexander's story."

"So that's your explanation?"

"It makes far more sense than a telepathic boogeyman. You are familiar with Occam's Razor?"

"I'll tell you what I'm familiar with. I'm familiar with Psi Corp manipulation. I'm familiar with the fact that I never met a Psi Cop who I didn't feel was lying to me."

"It sounds to me, Mr. Garibaldi, that your investigation is compromised by your own prejudices."

Garibaldi's scowl deepened. "I think Ms. Alexander is telling the truth. I think that if anyone has the talent to pull this off, it's you and your Psi Cop buddies."

"Then you are clearly blinded to the truth. Try to remember, Lieutenant Commander, the both the Psi Corp and the position of Psi Cop have been disbanded. Try to recall that those former Psi Cops you are disparaging and accusing of treason, myself included, are working every bit as hard as you are towards the survival of this fleet. Now, unless you have any more relevant questions, I think we are done here. I look forward to hearing more of your flights of fancy in the future. They are always quite entertaining." So saying, he rose and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Bester travelled down the length of the ship to his parked Starfury. Only once he was aboard and had started the engines did he reach into his pocket and pull out the pearl handled revolver he had taken from Garibaldi's desk. Snapping open the cylinder, he looked at the cartridges. Only four. Well, that was to bad. It wasn't like he could requisition new ones without arousing suspicion.

He supposed that just having taken the gun was a risk. He had noted the camera in the corner of Garibaldi's office. If anyone reviewed the footage, they would clearly see him taking the weapon. But, before anyone would go looking through old footage, they would have to have a reason. Someone would have to suspect a theft. That someone would almost certainly have to be Michael Garibaldi, who wasn't going to notice the missing gun for a very long time. The block he had placed in Garibaldi's mind would keep him seeing his precious 'reminder' right where it was supposed to be, until it finally faded. That wasn't going to happen for several months at the least. More likely it would be years. Commander Alfred Bester, Psi Cop at heart, had a feeling that the revolver would come in handy long before then.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Commander Matthew Gideon was walking the halls of the Eratosthenes, ensuring the chaos of new crew assignments didn't get out of hand. Given its roll of exploration, the Eratosthenes had a significantly higher number of 'Old Salts' than most of the other ships. Partially that was due to the ship starting with a higher number of them. It wasn't uncommon for older officers and enlisted to transfer into non-combat positions. Their finely honed skills and experiences were often more appreciated. Additionally, the rotating sections of the ship meant that they didn't have to worry about zero-G deterioration, which became more pronounced and rapid with age. That fact also meant that many more had been transferred to the ship over the course of the voyage, under Dr. Franklin's orders.

All of which meant that, when Admiral Dean began seeking volunteers from amongst the oldest military members of the fleet, he had started with the Eratosthenes. Shockingly, to Gideon anyway, over ninety percent of those he spoke with did indeed volunteer. Which meant that Gideon suddenly found himself with a crew roster that had been torn to shreds. Captain Sheridan was transferring officers and crew from the other ships, but Gideon was still getting a higher percentage of the new Deneb personnel than any other ship. All of which meant chaos.

It shouldn't matter as much aboard a ship which wasn't supposed to find itself in the thick of the fight. Given his experiences aboard the Midway, though, he'd be damned if he ever let that kind of thinking dictate his actions. So here he was, trying to help his XO manage all of this change. And to top it all off, his request for additional telepaths had finally been granted, so now he had to fit them in. He knew at least one was inbound today, so there was yet one more thing for him to...what the frag?

Gideon's attention was drawn to one of the odder sights he had seen aboard a serving warship. It was...it was a damned kid...just walking around and taking pictures, as though he owned the place. There was still a stereotype floating around about Asians enjoying photography, and this young man fulfilled it to a tee. Gideon knew young. His last crew was comprised almost entirely of cadets, after all. But there was no way this kid had graduated from high school. Gideon wouldn't be entirely shocked if someone had told him the boy was still in junior high school. As busy as everyone was, no one had yet intercepted him, though several were eyeing him askance.

Gideon strode forward and planted himself firmly in the path of the young photographer. He was looking everywhere but where he was going, and had nearly collided with Gideon before noticing him. His eyes widened and shot to Matthew's rank insignia. He clearly understood what they meant, and he sprang to something vaguely resembling an attention stance. He fired off a salute...with the wrong hand. His other was still cradling his camera. "Captain Gideon. It's truly an honor sir."

"Great. Now, who are you, and what are you doing aboard my ship?"

"You requested telepaths, Sir, and here I am. I've always wanted to join Earth Force, Captain, but never thought I would get the opportunity. I'm trying to get into the Academy next year, and they said my chances of being accepted were higher if I was already serving the fleet in some way. But, I would have volunteered regardless. Captain, I can't tell you what an honor it is to be serving with the youngest ship commander in Earth Force history!"

The kid was practically gushing, and Gideon had to hold up a hand to get him to stop, simultaneously plucking the camera out of the boy's other hand. "No image or video capture. We still have security requirements around here."

"Of course, Captain. I'm so sorry, Captain. It's just that I…"

The kid seemed ready to start gushing again, so Gideon cut him off. "What's your name?"

"John Matheson, Sir."

"Alright, Mr. Matheson. I'm going to put you on the bridge, where I can keep an eye on you. For now, though, come with me. Let's get you settled in. Then maybe we'll talk about getting you into the Academy."

"Thank you, Captain!" And, like an eager puppy, the young man fell into step behind him.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Attention on deck!" the Sergeant at the door called out, and everyone snapped to attention.

Admiral Dean looked out over all of the officers gathered in one of the Ragnarok's gymnasiums. It was well over half of the officers and senior enlisted personnel of the fleet and the Deneb Force. They were all wearing their finest Dress Uniform. He couldn't be more proud of everyone in the room.

The preceding weeks had been grueling, but the work was done. The Exodus fleets had been integrated, the ships refit, repaired or rearranged as necessary. Even the bulk of the small ships he had appropriated had already been fitted with AIs, additional propulsion, and nuclear payloads. The improved Exodus fleet would be leaving in less than forty-eight hours. Which was why a celebration was in order. "What are you all looking at me for? This is supposed to be a party. As you were!" He made his way to the table of refreshments which had been set up along one wall, and snagged a couple of miniature sandwiches and a glass of champagne.

"Admiral Dean?" a feminine voice asked tenatively. "Might I have a moment of your time?"

"Commander Levitt. What can I do for you? Not business, I hope. This is supposed to be a party."

"I'm sorry, Admiral, it is. But, I've been trying to get ahold of you since that first meeting. Your aide keeps putting me off."

"I'm a very busy man, Commander. We've all been very busy. Alright, what did you want to discuss."

"Admiral, I want to try to convince you to take command of the fleet. We need your wisdom and your experience. The future of the human race might depend upon you."

"Oh, I don't know, Commander. The current command staff seems pretty capable."

"Capable, yes, Admiral. Also impetuous and combative. Captain Sheridan has taken us into fights we had no business participating in. This fleet represents the final hope for the human race, not his personal combat task force!"

Admiral Dean inhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing. "Commander, are you sure that it's not your own ambition speaking? I'm well aware of that travesty of a Captain's Council that you were so instrumental in creating. You were lucky to be dealing with Captain Sheridan. I would have executed you myself."

Levitt betrayed a moment's shock, but quickly rallied. "Admiral, whatever actions I took were for the good of the fleet, not myself. If I was seeking personal gain, why would I be asking you to assume command, rather than asking that you promote Commander Lochley or me?"

"How should I know? Perhaps you think I will be more easily manipulated. Perhaps you think, correctly, that I would never promote you or Lochley past Captain Sheridan. Or perhaps you are hoping that I leave Captain Sheridan behind to fight a delaying action in Deneb, and that before too long my old bones pass on, leaving Lochley in charge by default."

"Admiral, I understand why you may think that about me. All I can say in my own defense is something my father once told me. He was a Major during the Dilgar war. It's even possible you may have met. My family has served for generations. My grandfather helped teach the Centauri a lesson when they were providing shelter to the Raiders preying on our colonies. Levitts have served in the fleet, on and off, all the way back to World War II, when one of my anscestors was a Lieutenant in the American SeaBees. My father used to tell me that one lesson the family had learned over the generations was that, while adhering to the chain of command is critical, there are occasions when a matter is important enough, when the order is dangerous enough, that in good conscience you must stand up and push back. I was taught that doing so is never without consequence, but that, if the cause was just, I should accept those consequences with pride. And so I do, Admiral. My actions were meant to safeguard the future of the species. If you intend to penalize or discipline me for those actions, Admiral, I shall neither argue nor complain. But I must state my beliefs one more time. This fleet needs an Admiral, Admiral."

Dean's eyes widened in surprise, and then he began to chuckle softly. "Would it surprise you to learn that Captain Sheridan made a nearly identical statement to me a while back? That he argued he should stay behind and lead the defense of Deneb, while I took command of the Exodus fleet?" She clearly was surprised, and flailing for something to say, so he took pity on her. "I promised him that I would consider his argument, and I have. I'll be announcing my conclusions in a few moments. Regardless of what you think of those conclusions, Commander, I want you to recognize that you've had your chance to stand up for your beliefs. From here on out, you follow orders. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Admiral. Of course."

"Now, I have more people who want to speak with me. Go enjoy the party." He walked away from her, giving her time to absorb his comments. There were indeed a great many people who wanted to speak with him, thank him, hobnob with him, or simply bend his ear on a variety of topics. He moved smoothly from one to the next, having long since mastered the social obligations that came with flag rank. He loathed those obligations, but he was good at them.

Slightly over half an hour later, his Aide approached, bearing an attache case. Dean made his excuses and disengaged from the conversation he was having with Lieutenant Commander Locarno's fiancee, Bella. She was a fiery young woman, and an engineer of no small talent who had been instrumental to all of the recent adjustments to the ships of the fleet. He was rather fond of them both, and had been hoping to officiate at their wedding. But, they just couldn't seem to set a date. Squeezing her affectionately on the shoulder, he turned and walked to the far end of the room, followed closely by his Aide.

Snagging a fork from a nearby table, he turned to face the room and loudly clinked it several times against his glass of champagne; only his second of the evening. "May I have your attention please?" It was a military crowd, and it didn't take the room long at all to reach a nearly complete silence as they all faced him expectantly. "I know this is a party, and a well deserved one at that. I hate to bring up business, but with the fleet so near to launching, there really is no better time. I have been approached several times, both by members of the Exodus fleet's command staff, and by members of my own command team, regarding the possibility of my assumption of command of the Exodus fleet, and the placement of Captain Sheridan in command of the Deneb defense forces. Some have mentioned this in the interests of the fleet, or of the survival of humanity. Others have intended this to be a gift to me, as a way that I personally might survive, and continue to contribute to our people. Either way, it was made very clear to me, multiple times by multiple individuals, that this fleet needs an admiral. I am forced to agree." There were a number of gasps, and a small murmur ran around the room.

He met John Sheridan's eyes. The man, predictably, had positioned himself at the front of the crowd. "I'm sorry, Captain."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Admiral."

"A statement which is not even remotely true. But, I thank you for the sentiment." He held out his hand, and his Aide extracted the official paperwork and slapped it into his palm. "Stand at Attention," he commanded the room. Unfolding the anachronistic sheet of paper, the Admiral began to read in a voice which carried to every corner. "Attention to Orders. I, Admiral Richard Dean, acting under my own jurisdiction, and since there's not a damned person left alive in Deneb or the entire Earth Alliance with the authority to deny me, am instituting the following command change to the leadership and staff of Project Exodus. Captain Sheridan, it must be noted, has done extremely well under exceptionally trying circumstances, into which he was thrust without sufficient training or guidance. Captain Sheridan has gained my trust and confidence as to his patriotism, integrity, and capability. Step forward please, Captain."

Dean could tell that Sheridan was a bit uncertain, but he covered it extremely well, and stepped forward without hesitation. "Captain Sheridan, I hereby order you to assume the rank of Commodore, Earth Alliance Earth Force. Effective immediately." His Aide stepped forward, having pulled the appropriate rank insignia from the attache, and replaced the former Captain's shoulder epaulets and breast stat bar. A surprised buzz ran around the room for a moment, and then the room erupted into applause and no few cheers. As the noise grew to nearly thunderous levels, Dean leaned in close to the Commodore's ear and spoke softly, "We're both exactly where we belong, John. But, now your fleet has an admiral. Or, at least as close to one as you're going to get, given how far I am already bending both tradition and regulation. Congratulations." He stepped back and offered a salute, which the Commodore returned, then shook his hand. Once again leaning in, he said, "Don't back up, John. Do an about face and stand to my left."

Sheridan didn't hesitate or ask questions. He just did as commanded. When he was in position, Dean stated loudly, "Commander Sinclair, step forward please." There was a moment of surprise before Sinclair approached. "Commander Sinclair, your actions and efforts do you proud. This authority recognizes that you have fulfilled tasks and duties well beyond the responsibility of Commander. In observance of that outstanding work, it is with great pleasure that I bestow upon you the responsibilities, the respect and the rank of Captain."

Once more his Aide stepped forward to update the officer's rank insignia. Dean shook the new Captain's hand, to another round of thunderous applause. "Take your place to Commodore Sheridan's left," he ordered softly. Sinclair shook Sheridan's hand, then assumed his position in line.

Once again speaking to the assembly, Dean said, "Lieutenant Commander Michael Garibaldi, please step forward." This name seemed to surprise the crowd, but he carried on as soon as Garibaldi stood before him. "Lieutenant Commander Garibaldi, yours is a particularly unusual case. You're a mustang, promoted directly from Sergeant to Lieutenant Commander, and across branches, due to the pressing demand for for your expertise. Under those circumstances, no one could be faulted for expecting you to fail. The fact that it was not an unmitigated disaster is more than a little surprising. The skill and success which you brought to diverse duties and situations that no one could have predicted is nothing less than astonishing. You were doubtless pulled across to the Fleet branch to allow your fellow officers to provide a higher level of support and oversight. Those factors have proven to be both unnecessary, and potentially a hindrance to future duties which may be required of you. I have, therefore, decided to once more transition you across branches. I had a difficult time choosing between the Security, Army, or Marine branches, but given the nature of the fleet, the Marines are the clear choice. It is with great pleasure that I bestow upon you the responsibilities, the respect and the rank of a Marine Colonel. As Admiral Dean shook Garibaldi's hand, the applause wasn't nearly as loud, but was present just the same. The new Colonel proceeded to shake the hands of Sheridan and Sinclair, receiving their congratulations.

The Admiral addressed the crowd one final time. "Alright folks. I've hijacked enough of your party. I've sent a list of many more promotions I would recommend to Commodore Sheridan, but the final decision will be his. I wouldn't expect to see any of them before the fleet departs in two days. I just want to say how truly proud I am of each and every one of you. You continue to astonish me with your ability to achieve the impossible. Enjoy your evening. You have certainly earned it. As you were!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The knocking on his door woke him. The accompanying message was more irritant than necessity. "Admiral, I'm sorry to wake you, Sir, but we have a development."

He sat up in the bed, scratching himself and rubbing bleary eyes. "How long?" he asked.

"You've been asleep for about three hours sir."

Admiral Dean stood up, stomped to his door, and threw it open. He slept in his PT gear, minus the exercise shoes, so had no concerns for modesty. Stomping back to the bed, he sat once more, facing his Aide. "Lieutenant, if I've only been asleep for three hours, then you better have a damned good reason for waking me. An old man needs his beauty rest. The fleet's been gone for what, six hours now? Did they return for some reason?"

"No, Admiral." He walked to the wall panel and called up a display. The screen showed nothing but an empty starscape. "Sir, about twenty minutes ago we registered a gravitational source in this sector. It faded out within a few seconds. We figured it was an uncharted asteroid, so we concentrated sensors on that region to make sure we had a firm size and vector for our navigational charts."

"Son, I seriously hope, for your sake, that you did not wake me up to chat about navigation."

The Lieutenant gestured again at the empty starscape. "That's all we found, Admiral."

He was missing something. His brain was fuzzy, but dammit, he'd only had three hours of sleep! "There's nothing there."

"Exactly, Admiral."

Alarm bells started going off in his head. "Gravitational readings?"

"Once we focused all of our gravitational sensors on this region, we started to get more consistent hits. But they still kept fading in and out. And none of our other sensors are picking up a thing."

"Explanation?"

"Well, Admiral, it's possible that we are looking at some form of dark matter anomaly. Such things….well, it's theoretically possible."

"But you think it's the Minbari."

It was a statement, not a question, but the Lieutenant answered it anyway. "Yes, Sir. Almost one hundred percent likelihood."

"And if the sensors are having a hard time even noticing them, then we have no idea how long they've been there…"

"It's certainly possible that they've only been here for the last twenty minutes or so, Sir."

"But it's just as likely that they watched the fleet depart."

"Yes, Admiral."

His tone was despondent, almost hopeless. That, more than anything, pulled Admiral Dean out of his drowsiness. "Wake the senior staff. Get me a channel to governor Vasiliev in ten minutes. He's going to need to begin evacuating civilians to the countryside. I want at least a third of our forces at combat readiness within the next five." He gestured towards the image still displayed on the wall panel. "And broadcast a message to that sector."

"Admiral?" The rapid stream of orders had seemed to focus the Lieutenant, washing away his fear. However, that last command had clearly thrown him.

"If the Minbari saw the Exodus fleet leave, then they can chase them down. Even with their improved speed, they won't be able to outrun dedicated pursuit if the Minbari have substantial forces nearby. Which means that there's only one thing we can do to help Sheridan and his fleet."

"And that is, Sir?"

"We have to grab the Minbari's attention and hang onto it. We have to be loud and obnoxious enough that they can't force themselves to bypass us. We have to make sure that they get sucked in, and that we don't let go."

"Admiral, if the Minbari throw everything they have at us, we won't last long."

"We don't have to last long, Lieutenant. Just long enough."

"Aye, Sir. What did you want the message to say?"

"Something short and to the point. You decide. Just tell those boneheads to come and get some.