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.

19. Chapter 18 - All Alone in the Night

Chapter 18 - All Alone In the Night

Hyperspace, near Z'ha'dum - Fourth Line of Exploration, Shuttle Rokai - May, 2249

"Come on, you stupid thing!" Catherine Sakai snapped in frustration, smacking the panel in front of her in annoyance. Despite her outburst, Catherine was irritated at neither the panel nor the Rokai itself. In fact, she was growing rather fond of the surprisingly capable Drazi shuttle. No, what she was really reacting to was the growing sense of unease and despair, which was almost certainly infecting nearly all of the professional military and civilian exploration personnel. The sense that their work might be in vain, that at any moment they might be discovered by the Minbari. The knowledge that, given how far their exploration had come, they should have found something by now. The very real fear that their task might very well be hopeless. This was compounded with the understanding that, if only Gideon's eureka moment had come sooner, if it had been tried in an earlier system, one not so close to the Rim, they would very likely have easily found a way out. A place to hide from the Minbari. Perhaps a new home.

Instead, all they had was an unending search, with the steadily dawning understanding that their efforts were all in vain. Catherine wondered if that fear was more or less severe for all of the clueless civilians pressed into the role of neophyte explorers. She hoped it was less. She prayed that they could hang onto their hopes. It was all they had left, in whatever time remained before the Minbari noticed them. That and the task at hand. This monumental exploration effort, so unlike anything which had ever been tried before.

A search which, after a massive push deep into hyperspace, was now steadily falling apart. All but two of the lines of advance had completely dead ended, and branches on those lines were dying left and right. Even the oh so promising third line, which she had been working, had finally closed off, forcing her to again relocate to the fourth line. Perhaps that wasn't the worst thing, as it freed up ships desperately needed to maintain the fragile and ever lengthening hyperspace chains supporting those lines. Both the first and the fourth line were now well over a million klicks along their primary branches, with the beacon chains thinned out to one ship per link along vast swaths of those chains. Additionally, the ships were now spaced out to nearly two thousand klicks apart. They were running out of ships, and sooner or later it was going to lead to disaster. It already almost had.

The Eratosthenes, still steadily pushing ahead at the tip of the first line, had nearly been lost to a slow death in hyperspace when that line had snapped near its base. It would have taken nearly half the fleet with it. The loss of those people and resources would have almost certainly spelled the doom of the remainder of the fleet. And it all would have been entirely unavoidable, if not for the quick thinking of a civilian captain who, noticing the loss of return signal, had coordinated to quickly expand his own and the two or three preceding interval distances to almost three thousand klicks. They rushed ahead, boosting their transmission and reception to max levels. Despite that precaution, they still each almost lost contact several times. But, through luck or divine intervention, they caught up to the lost ships, mending the severed chain and saving humanity in the process. At which point, the chain nearly snapped again but, after a couple of very tense hours, they managed to reel in the distances and stabilize the entire line of advance.

So far as Catherine knew, no one had even noted that Captain's name, or which ship it had been. A galling oversight, to add to everything else. And now, this.

Catherine tweaked her forward sensors, looking for a way ahead. She was once again at the tip of the spear; the furthest advance of the entire line of exploration. Given how fast the branches had been closing off, she might very well be on the last open avenue of this line. And she was looking at an unexpected pair of gravity shears, meeting at very nearly a right angle, dead ahead. They neatly cut off the line of advance, every bit as definitively as a locked door.

She pushed the Rokai forward, panning her sensors back and forth, searching for a way around or through. She had already closed out two lines of exploration. She had no desire to shut down a third. But, there was simply no opening to be found. No way ahead that did not end in destruction. Frag! She pushed closer still, redoubling her efforts.

To no avail. There simply was no way around. She took a deep breath, rather than smack the panel again. "Shuttle Rokai to Exploration Control. I've hit a dead end here. Heading back."

The response was several long seconds in coming, and Catherine fancied she could hear the bitter disappointment on the other end. "Shuttle Rokai, this is Exploration Control. Acknowledged. Make your way back to exploration line one. We will provide further instruction upon your arrival."

"Affirmative. Shuttle Rokai, out." She took another deep breath, initiated the steps to recall her sensor drone, then eased in the throttle, backing the shuttle away from the grav shears before turning about to head down the line.

Or, at least, she tried to. The Rokai shuddered, but did not move. "...the hell?" she muttered to herself, scanning the sensors and system status displays.

It was the sensor drone she had been running. She had gotten too close, and had drifted into the outer edges of the grav shear. It was tugging hard at the tether she'd been reeling it in with, beginning to pull away.

"Like hell you will," she groused. They were down below ten percent stocks of the drones, last she had checked. Given how long ago that was, they were probably below five percent now. She wasn't about to lose another. Dialing up the tether's tension level to maximum, she steadily increased the output on her thrusters. The sensors told her she was moving...in the wrong direction.

"Frag it," she snapped, and firewalled the thrusters. The Rokai began to shudder, but her direction was not reversed. If anything, it was increasing. The grav shear well and truly had a hold of the drone, and it was not letting go. "Frag," she cursed again, reaching to disconnect the tether. Before she could do so, it snapped, the released drone disappearing into the grav shear. The released tension jerked the Rokai hard, slamming her hard against her restraints.

Her head was fuzzy. Perhaps she had even blacked out for a few seconds. Either way, she took a moment regathering her bearing. Which was why it took as long as it did for her to realize the Rokai was still shuddering. Reviewing the appropriate displays, the horrifying truth became apparent. She had taken too long to decide on releasing the drone. The Rokai had gotten too close, and now was mired in the gravitational gradient at the outskirts of the shear. And she was being pulled deeper.

"Oh frag, oh frag, oh frag," she muttered frantically to herself. She disabled the safety protocols on the engines and took the reactors and thrusters to one hundred and eighteen percent. The engines wailed, vibrating the ship harshly on top of the now severe shuddering. Still, she was being drawn deeper, and it was accelerating, faster and faster. The engines had no more to give. She was going in. There was nothing she could do about it. "Oh God," she whispered, just before impact.

And then the Rokai hit, hard. The shuttle lurched violently and Catherine screamed in terror. There was no more control, and the shuttle flipped and cartwheeled chaotically. The engines continued to scream, and now the very bones of the Rokai groaned alarmingly, ready to shatter under the insane pressures. Warning lights flashed as alarms wailed for her attention. The g-forces in the cabin fluctuated wildly in every direction. Spacers' bulbs and various pieces of equipment, most of which had been properly dogged down, hurtled dangerously across the cabin. She instinctively threw up her arms to protect her face, and continued to scream.

It took her a moment to realize that the shuddering and grav fluctuations had stopped. Still panting with terror, she lowered her arms and took in the flight display. The Rokai had managed to escape the grav shear, she wasn't quite sure how, and was now charging away. The engines were still screaming at one hundred and eighteen percent. It took her another long moment, longer than she would have liked, to collect her wits and reduce power to the engines, turning the ship to arrest her momentum.

Better report what happened. She opened a channel and moved to aim the directional broadcast at the next ship up the chain. That's when she finally realized the truth. The Rokai was no longer receiving the signal from her anchor vessel. She had lost contact, been cut off. Oh, shit! She spun her sensors frantically across the entire panorama of hyperspace. She had no idea if she was even pointed in the right direction, so she needed to check everywhere. Nothing.

Once again becoming desperate, she switched the comm to an omnidirectional broadcast. "Shuttle Rokai to Exploration Control." There was no response. "Shuttle Rokai to any ship, please respond." Still nothing. Rolling the dial to maximum output, she hesitated for just a second. I've got to be more than far enough away. The Minbari can't possibly pick up a thing. She took a deep breath, trying to gain control of her far too rapid panting. "This is Shuttle Rokai to any ship. I have lost signal lock and require assistance. Please respond." Silence.

She thought for a moment of using the tachyon comms, desperate to hear a human voice. But, that would be picked up by the Minbari, and might well bring them down on the fleet. Get ahold of yourself Catherine. THINK!

She began reviewing the sensor feeds for more than just the signal from her anchor vessel, trying to get some idea of where she was. That task should be hopeless in hyperspace, but she needed to do something. At least there was some topography here. There were the two grav shears, meeting at their roughly ninety degree angle. Wait...that's the wrong right angle. It was, in fact, the inverse of the angle she had been looking at before.

I didn't escape the grav shear. I was spit out the far side. Which meant she was well and truly fragged. The fingers of panic began pulling at the fringes of her mind, but she tamped them down on sheer willpower. There's got to be something, she thought desperately. It couldn't end like this.

And then, something else the sensors were registering finally dawned on her. Something wrong. Something that shouldn't be there. She would never have noticed it, if she hadn't opened up the sensors wide. It wasn't something the sensors were programmed to look for.

What the hell? That's...that's a beacon. That can't be right. And yet, hope surged. It was all wrong. It shouldn't be out here. She checked the frequency against the registry of known beacons, those on the EA catalog, and those that had come with the Abbai charts. It didn't match any of them. Hell, that frequency was in entirely the wrong part of the spectrum!

That frequency was shaky, and the signal strength fluctuated oddly, but remained solid enough for all of that. There was no mistaking it. Nothing but a beacon could pierce the murk of hyperspace like that. It was strong enough, steady enough, real enough to lead the fleet down it.

Possibilities spun through Catherine's mind. Where had it come from? Some long disconnected and lost part of the beacon network? An entirely separate network built and maintained by unknown species? Did it matter? This beacon could mean salvation for the fleet...for the entire human race.

She slowly returned her attention to the grav shears. In order to use the beacon, first the fleet would have to know it was there. They might be looking for her right now, but they would never think to risk going through a grav shear. And there was no way her EM signals would get through to them. The Tachyon comms would work, but the fleet probably wouldn't even reach the beacon if she tipped off the Minbari in that way.

Gritting her teeth, she returned to studying the grav shears. They looked a bit different from this side. There. Directly between the two shears, at the apex where they met, was a small gap. A calm bit of space that would take her most of the way through and it was large enough for the Rokai to fit in. But it didn't go all the way through. She could dive in, but she'd end up tangled up right back in those same gravitational gradients; and if she was lucky enough not to be destroyed, she'd just get shot back out on this side.

Unless, she thought, I was going fast enough that the grav shear didn't have time to stop me. Her mind quailed at the recklessness of the thought. The very idea was insane. It was unthinkable. And so, she promptly stopped thinking about it, and backed up the Rokai so she had room to get a good solid run.

This is suicide, part of her cried out, in the depths of her subconscious.

Staying put is suicide, another part of her answered.

If I'm going to die, the core of her personality responded, at least I'll die trying.

Lieutenant Catherine Sakai let out a half mad laugh and redlined her engines, diving for the tiny speck of the opening.
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Z'ha'dum - EAS Nova - May, 2249

"Coming up on Point Bingo, in sixty seconds," Lieutenant Commander Takashima advised. The tension on the bridge went up another few notches.

"Acknowledged," Sheridan said calmly, giving Laurel a short nod. His insides were churning, but a flag officer wasn't allowed to show the kind of nerves that a mere mortal enlisted person might be familiar with. And so, he kept up his customary stoic facade, despite a burning desire to leap up and begin pacing manically about the bridge.

As the Nova, Midway, and Lexington had raced at maximum acceleration across the inner solar system, back through the asteroid belt, and out the far side; Sheridan had his navigators carefully calculating where exactly point Bingo lay. It was the point at which, should they elect to turn over and reverse course, they would still have time to return to the safety of the belt before the Minbari fell upon them.

Of course, that calculation had required knowing exactly where the Minbari forces were, and when they would complete their circumnavigation of the belt. That was a tricky business, given . Minbari stealth systems. Fortunately, the Minbari had been pushing their engines hard during their race around the belt, which had degraded their stealth a bit. Moving at speeds that did not allow simple gravity to drag them around the arc, their path had required constant acceleration and vector change.

It hadn't helped when a group of several to a dozen war cruisers had cut a little too close to the belt, and were carved to ribbons in the process. That event had been plenty clear to their sensors. It also had the added bonus of forcing the Minbari to increase their safety distance from the belt, slowing them further.

The Minbari vessels were significantly faster than their human counterparts. But, between their late start to the race and the wide berth they were forced to give the belt, the human crafts had a big advantage. That had allowed Sheridan to take a massive step past the belt, while still retaining the option of returning and using the alien defenses to grind down the Minbari.

But, time was now up, and the decision could no longer be put off. First, though, he needed to make it official. "Lieutenant Jones, has there been any sign of signal from Commander Gideon." That signal was a weak tachyonic pulse, designed to look natural rather than artificial. If Minbari sensors should happen to pick it up it should mostly look like random background tachyonic radiation. It was far too weak even to be noticed by the standard comm equipment, which was he was asking Sensors rather than Comms.

Everyone on the bridge already knew the answer. Regardless, the tension increased perceptibly for a moment until, without turning his head, Jonesy stated, "No, Commodore. We have not."

Sheridan nodded slowly, a bit of theater for those watching. Oh well, it really was worth a shot, but the odds were probably a thousand to one. You can't roll the hard six every time. Had the signal arrived, they would have run hard for the Kuiper Belt, and hope get there before the pursuing Minbari, attempting to lose them in that maze of rubble. If they could break contact, they could slip into hyperspace and take whatever escape route Gideon had arranged before the Minbari could follow them. Or, if they couldn't break contact, then the Nova could turn for a final stand against the Minbari, buying the Lexington and Midway time to escape. But, it seemed that hope had vanished.

"Open a channel to the Midway and Lexington," he commanded. "Advise Captains Sinclair and Levitt to patch the broadcast through to their crews. Let's pipe in our own as well." Once the channel was opened he spoke in his most serious tone. "This is Commodore Sheridan to all officers and crew of this task force. There has been no signal from the Eratosthenes, which means they have yet to find a way out for our civilian fleet. It falls upon our shoulders to buy them more time. As of now, we are turning about and returning to the asteroid belt. We will use the defenses therein as a force multiplier and fight the Minbari as hard and for as long as we are able. The Japanese once had a saying. 'Death is lighter than a feather, but duty is heavier than a mountain.' We shall do our duty, secure in the knowledge that our sacrifice will buy our civilians...our species...a chance for survival. That is…"

"Commodore!" Jonesy suddenly shouted. This alone drew Sheridan's ire, but then the Lieutenant actually took his eyes off of his panel, and fully turned around in his seat. His face, far more pallid than usual, bore a look of profound uncertainty.

Sheridan waved for the open channel to be cut. "Lieutenant? Did you perhaps notice that I was addressing the fleet? Was there something you felt the need to tell everyone?"

"Sir...sensors confirm…" He took a shallow breath, then plunged ahead. "Prearranged signal from the Eratosthenes detected. We….they...have a path out." He seemed ready to say more, but then stopped.

Well, that certainly changes things. "Thank you, Jonesy," Sheridan said with a nod, allowing the officer to turn back to his station. He unbuckled and stood, thinking furiously, using a hand to remain anchored to his seat. A Flag Officer couldn't afford to appear nonplussed, so John fastidiously smoothed and adjusted his uniform, using the act to buy himself some time.

Brushing an imaginary spec of dust off of his sleeve, he let go of the instinctual irritation towards Gideon's slight tardiness. The man had pulled off a miracle. But, could Sheridan take advantage of it? He reviewed the plots and known positions, vectors, and accelerations of the Minbari fleet, furiously double checking the math in his head. He wasn't a genius at it, but a good officer needed to be able to calculate accelerations and time progression in his head. Unless we're very lucky, at least some of their ships will catch us before we can get to the cover of the Kuiper.

The smart move, once again, was to dive for the asteroid belt and fight it out. Buy time for the civilians to get away. He had promised to try to get his people out of this system. And he had tried. But the numbers just didn't quite work out. If they ran, they would all die before they got to cover and the opportunity to jump out to hyperspace.

Then again, perhaps not all. Responsibility and new course of action thundered through his head. It brought hope, laden with bitterness. It wasn't perfect, but it was the best he could do to fulfill his final promise. Clearing his throat, he called out, "All hands, prepare for action. Lieutenant Commander Takashima, please relay to Captains Sinclair and Levitt that we will not be coming about, and will instead make maximum acceleration for our point of exfiltration."

"Aye, Sir."

"Conn, the Nova will go to ninety percent acceleration until such time as we have fallen one million kilometers behind the Midway and Lexington. At which point, you will reinstate maximum acceleration."

The bridge went dead silent. Several pairs of eyes were drawn inexorably to him. He provided an explanation they deserved to hear. "The forward most elements of the Minbari chase are going to catch us. There is nothing to be done about this. Only the Nova stands any chance of slowing them down enough to allow the Midway and the Lex to escape. I will not lie to you. The odds of the Nova surviving this duty and escaping are extremely low. We have come full circle, back to the duty position we held when first this fleet departed Mars. We are the sacrifice play, allowing our brothers and sisters the chance to escape. But...there is always hope. I know you will do your duty, and I could not be more proud."

Spines stiffened once again, and the officers returned to their work. Laurel cleared her throat. "Commodore, Captains Sinclair and Levitt acknowledge their orders."

"Good. Now, I have two more. First, order those ships to launch all of their fighters, and have them stage off of the Nova. Black Omega as well. Quite a few of those Minbari ships are going to get into range to launch their Nials. If we want to actually get the chance to slow down the Minbari capital ships, first we're going to need every Starfury we've got to hold back the tidal wave of Minbari fighters."

"Yes, Commodore. And the second?"

"Have Captain Sinclair contact me in my quarters in five minutes. I'll have some final words for him, before I pass over command of the fleet."
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Z'ha'dum - Minbari Fleet, Ingata - May, 2249

Shai'Alyt Branmer raised his eyebrows in surprise, as sensors revealed the trio of human vessels continuing to head further towards the outer system. Branmer had assumed that they would turn about and dive back into the asteroid field just ahead of the arriving Minbari warships; an attempt to bait them into a precipitous move into the powerful defenses waiting there. But, the humans had now passed the point of no return. Looking over at his protege, he asked, "What do you suppose that is all about, Neroon?"

Neroon produced a small smile. "It would appear that their doom is finally registering upon them. The humans are finally panicking."

"Even Starkiller?"

"Yes!" Neroon hissed in delight. "In the end, even the mighty Starkiller proves to be no more than just a human."

"A human who has lead us to underestimate him on many occasions. To our sorrow. Do you not think he might be doing so again?"

"To what end, Shai'Alyt? His smartest move was to remain in the asteroid belt and force us to dig him out. This choice to head out system has now thrown that option away. Should they reverse course, we will be able to intercept his ships before they can get back to the inner asteroid belt. But we will also be able to intercept them before they can reach the cover of the Kuiper Belt. We will destroy them in open space, where they have nowhere to hide."

"Just so, Neroon. But do you see how their dreadnought is slowly falling behind the smaller vessels? I believe he means to stall us. To allow the other two vessels time to make good their escape."

"It will not work. But, even if it did, it would buy them very little time. They still have nowhere to which to escape. They run like vermin, just looking to take one more breath."

Branmer ignored Neroon's vehemence. "And why do you suppose they are heading to the outer system anyway?"

Neroon looked thoughtful. "Perhaps that is where their Workers are hiding. Or, perhaps, they hope to move past the hyperspace blockage and transition out of the system. It will do them no good. Not with our fleet sitting on the beacon."

Branmer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps. But perhaps we should also take a more active role. Signal the fleet in hyperspace. Have some scouts spread out from the beacon so we spot them if they do make transition. So they can not just hide in the hyperspace murk." Looking up at the massive tactical hologram covering the ceiling, he continued to ponder the current situation. Making a decision, he said, "It would also be better if we could ensure the destruction of all three ships before they get to the Kuiper belt. Prepare for fighter operations from all ships which can get into range. We will use the Nials to pin them down, and then we will finish them off with our warcruisers."

"An excellent plan, Shai'Alyt. Anything else?"

Branmer hesitated a moment, then said, "Ensure all ships are operating in at least wing or squadron strength formations. Even if it slows us down. We cannot forget where we are. Static defenses may not be the only dangers the Shadows pose here."

That got Neroon's attention. "Is there something in particular we should prepare for, Shai'Alyt?"

Sighing, Branmer shook his head. "No. Not really. I just have the oddest sensation...like we're being watched."
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Z'ha'dum - Approaching the Kuiper Belt, Delta Squadron - May, 2249

"Break left!" came Susan's shout, but Ironheart was already doing so, well in advance, telepathically aware of exactly where the Minbari was and when he would fire. Green light speared past, mere meters from his cockpit. Jason's return fire did not miss, and after a couple of seconds, caved in the resilient Minbari fighter.

"Delta 2, take the trailer," he called back to her, as the Minbari's remaining wingman angled in for the kill, sliding right into Jason's six o'clock. Susan was there, already firing at the rapidly approaching fighter. She didn't land a single hit on its nimbly dodging form. Damn. She's really off today. Too much time out of the cockpit, I guess. But Ironheart didn't have time to worry about his wingman. The Minbari was now in position, and had Jason completely dead to rights.

Death beckoned, and for the tiniest fraction of a second, Ironheart welcomed it. The release from worry and responsibility. The end of pain. But, he had a duty to attend to. Not that it mattered. No one else was in a position to stop the Nial, and from his current position, his Starfury simply didn't have the acceleration or maneuverability to evade the killing shot. In his mind, Ironheart could feel the Minbari Warrior already beginning to squeeze his firing controls. There was nothing to be done.

Nothing, except...instead of just listening in on the Minbari's mind, Jason clamped down on it. The attempt to fire was arrested. The Minbari didn't have time to fight. He barely had time to register surprise, for Ironheart was already whipping his Starfury about. A pair of seconds later, his pulse cannon fire shattered the Minbari vessel and killed the pilot, his finger still locked on his fire control.

Ironheart's mind snapped back into the confines of his own skull. There was cheering on the comms. That had been the last of the Minbari fighters. At least, of this wave. There would assuredly be more. And they had already lost so many pilots.

The attacks had begun little more than a couple of hours ago, as some of the Minbari ships had drawn close enough to launch their fighters. Fortunately, they had not waited for even more ships to draw near, and amass an overwhelming wave of fighters. Instead, as any given group of ships had drawn close enough for fighters, with limited fuel and acceleration capabilities, to overtake the human ships, they had launched immediately. It was an ill advised attempt to slow the human ships and ensure that none of them made it to the safety of the Kuiper Belt. What it had done instead was given Ironheart and the other squadron commanders a chance to take on and engage smaller concentrations of the technologically superior Minbari fighters. It had given them the chance to survive, and they had done so. The cost had been high, and some attacks had indeed made it through to the warships. But, those ships had survived, and were still under maximum acceleration. Just one or two more waves, and then it would be the Nova's turn, as the first group of Minbari capital ships drew into range. That would almost certainly mean the Nova's destruction. But, if it could just delay those ships by a bit, and if there were enough fighters left to stall a couple more waves of Nials, then the Lexington and the Midway might be able to lose themselves in the Belt. And just possibly make it far enough out to jump into hyperspace and make use of whatever exit Commander Gideon had found.

"Form up the squadron," he croaked. His throat was incredibly dry. "Try to relax for a bit before the next wave gets here. There wasn't much of the squadron left. Instead of an oversized combined squadron, they were down to a just under full strength standard size squadron. Instead of worrying over that, Jason decided to take his own advice. He drew deeply from the water straw to clear this throat, and then sagged back into his seat. Exhaustion washed over him, as well as pain. The migraine he had been fighting all day had redoubled, thanks to all of the telepathic exertion. His mental reserves were even more exhausted than his physical ones.

He only had a couple of mild painkillers, which wouldn't really cut it. He took them, then supplemented them with another half dozen of the telepathy enhancers. It couldn't hurt. Hell, it might even help. It didn't really feel like it though, but maybe that was just the exhaustion. He'd need to deal with that. The next wave of Minbari fighters was drawing ever nearer. He had some stimulants, meant to deal with exactly the kind of pilot exhaustion he was dealing with. Most of the other pilots were probably tapping into theirs as well. He took...well, probably more than he should have. And then a few more telepathy enhancers, to wash them down. He was starting to run low on those.

His Starfury shook around him. The comm channel crackled. "Delta 9 to squad," came a cautious female voice. Ironheart was too tired to remember the owner's name. "Did you guys just feel…"

"This is Delta 13. Yeah, it felt like some kind of...turbulence." The young male voice of the responder was somehow still chipper. Ironheart pegged it as Ensign Harper, who had just made it through pilot training and into the squadron. He was kind of surprised the man was still alive.

"Turbulence in vacuum?" Delta 9 queried back.

Ironheart opened his comms. "This is Delta Leader. There's a lot of debris from the Minbari and our own ships floating around out here. We probably just passed through a concentration of it. Worry about the next batch of Minbari, not some errant buffeting. They'll be here shortly."
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Hyperspace, near Z'ha'dum - First Line of Exploration, Shuttle Rokai - May, 2249

"Amazing job, Lieutenant Sakai!" Lieutenant Catherine Sakai falsettoed to herself.

"Thank you, Ma'am," she responded to herself.

"Truly, Lieutenant. Your accomplishment has almost certainly prevented the extinction of the human race!"

"That really means a lot, coming from you, Commander Kathway." Catherine snorted. "But what's my reward? A beer? A chance to get my ass out of this tin can?"

She resumed her falsetto. "Now hustle back to Line one. You have more experience than anyone in breaking down a line of exploration, and we've got civilians everywhere." She began muttering to herself, more irritated and grumpy from exhaustion than truly angry. She did understand the necessity of her newest orders. Still, that didn't prevent her from casting a dark glare at the Eratosthenes, wherein Lieutenant Commander Janice Kathway was still coordinating the evacuation of Line one, as it thundered past on its way to the escape route she had found. It was surrounded by streams of civilian ships, pouring out of the the various branch explorations that had been opened up along the way.

Catherine's job, and that of several others who had similarly been spearheading the points of advance, was to ensure that none of the civilians got left behind. That the lines rolled themselves back, and no one got forgotten or disconnected in the general rush to get the heck out of dodge. Back to herding cats, she thought to herself.

But it was an important job. And she was extremely well suited to it. She had already closed down a couple of the smaller branches, and had just been ordered down one of the larger ones, where a bit of chaos was erupting, and some of the civilians were pulling out too fast, threatening to strand those behind them.

She spent the next hour cruising up the line, and in and out of various sub-branches. She calmed skittish civilian captains and pilots, slowed and stabilized the general rate of evacuation, and began to reduce the distances between ships, to ensure no one lost signal lock. And, in the end, she placed the Rokai at the very end of the line. If she was the last one out, then no one could be left behind.

Or, at least, she thought she was at the end. But, as she began to reverse course to head back down the line, her sensors pinged. They had detected an anomaly. Catherine, out of sheer habit, focused the sensors in tight. It was a ship. What the frag? How had she missed that? It wasn't broadcasting a signal, and distance meant that hyperspace was all but obscuring it. It sat dead in hyperspace. Engine distress?

For a moment, she worried that it might be Minbari. But, if the Minbari had been that close, they would surely have detected the fleet and dropped on them like a pack of vicious predators. Besides, the Minbari were in the opposite direction. Which meant is must be a member of the fleet.

She keyed her comms. "Rokai to unknown vessel, you're falling behind." No response. "Rokai to unknown vessel, do you require assistance." Still no response, and still no movement. She killed the comms and cursed. It must have been experiencing a general power failure. That called for a tug, but in the chaos of the evacuation, it would take quite a while to get one here. That would slow the evacuation. Besides, if that ship was experiencing general power failure, they might not have the remaining life support to wait for a tug.

Fortunately, the ever useful Rokai was capable of acting as a tug in an emergency. She checked the next ship up the line. It wasn't too far off, and its locator signal was coming through strong. She had time. She opened up comms again, and sent a brief message up the chain to the Eratosthenes, advising them of the ship in need and her rescue plan. She received and acknowledgement from a very harried sounding comms officer.

Signing off, Catherine began to chuckle. At least she wasn't in that job. This one was bad enough. And it never ends. Sighing to herself, she turned the Rokai about, and set off to drag one more civilian ship's fat out of the fire.
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Z'ha'dum - Edge of the Kuiper Belt, Delta Squadron - May, 2249

The Minbari had finally learned their lesson. They had held back the next wave of fighters until enough ships were in range to launch to make it truly overwhelming. There were bogeys like fireflies all over the sky. Delta shattered like glass. All of the squadrons did. Unit cohesion was nonexistent. The best that could be hoped for was that wingmen could manage to stick together, as individual furballs broke out everywhere.

But, the delay had given the humans just enough time, as the task force moved ever closer to shelter in the Kuiper Belt. It was time for the Nova to engage the Minbari, and the call went out. "Commodore Sheridan to all Starfuries. You have accomplished your objective. If possible, disengage and make your way to the Midway or Lexington. I cannot express how proud I am of each and every one of you. You've paid a high price, but it won't in vain. Now, get yourselves to safety. Sheridan out."

As the Nova began to come about in the distance, the Starfurys attempted to disengage. To make their way back to the hangars of the Midway and Lexington. To escape and to live. The Minbari were having none of it. They pressed all the harder, attempting to pin down the human fighters and eliminate each and every one.

Lieutenant Jason Ironheart, Delta Squadron Commander, had other ideas. Silently apologizing to Susan in his head, he made the decision to fight a rearguard action. To engage any Minbari, all of the Minbari, which were attempting to stop, attack, and destroy the fleeing human fighters. He and his wingman flew wildly through one furball after another. They sought to engage and distract, rather than destroy. And, slowly, as one Nial after another chose to focus on them rather than their former quarry, they succeeded. In ones and twos, other human pilots successfully disengaged and made a break for their hangars. Jason and Susan, attempting to carry a greater and greater portion of the fight, rapidly fell to the rear.

Jason's mind was on fire, the pain excruciating, but so were his skills. Susan did her best to keep up with him as he spun and wove his nimble fighter through the growing horde of the enemy. He had taken the last of the telepathy enhancers, as well as every emergency stimulant on board. They coursed through his system like a live wire. Something had changed. He could see everything. It was as if his mind had been a seed for his entire life, and now it was blossoming. He could access every mind in range, without even trying. He barely had to look their way, to see what was inside.

"Susan, snap right and fire!" he ordered, feeding her an almost constant stream of directions. She did so, and managed to peg the engine of a Nial in its darting attack. She had hesitated for a fraction of a second, and the delay caused her to miss with several bolts that would have overwhelmed the Nial's armor. She got lucky, though, and the shot hit something vital and delicate in the engine, leading to a chain reaction which destroyed the entire vessel. It was one of her very few kills of the day.

Too slow, Jason thought, and switched to passing orders to Susan telepathically. He himself was firing almost continually, keeping just enough of an eye on the internal sensors to ensure his weapons didn't overheat. He could tell exactly where each enemy pilot planned to move next. Exactly when and where they planned to fire. Every turn, bank, or adjustment in acceleration he made was designed to place Susan and himself into the right position to evade every enemy shot, while perfectly placing shots of their own to thin out the enemy herd. In the last ten minutes, Jason had equaled and surpassed the kill count from his entire previous career.

It wasn't enough. The enemy coalesced faster than he could possibly burn them out. The safe avenues for evasion, grew fewer and fewer. More and more, the only route to safety allowed no possibility of return fire. The enemy had realized that they faced a particularly dangerous opponent and began to employ skilled tactics of wing and squadron maneuver to bring him down. Tactics which made the most of their advantages in acceleration and durability. Jason finally saw the Minbari fighting machine at its best. At the same time, pain and exhaustion dragged at him.

And then came a moment in which there was no possible avenue for escape. No opening to exploit. Nowhere to go in which bracketing Minbari fire would not burn him and Susan to bits. So he made an opening. Instead of simply reading the Minbari minds, he reached out and touched a couple. And two Minbari pilots hesitated fractionally in firing their weapons...just long enough for Ironheart and Susan to slip the net.

Shouting in triumph, Jason spun and burned down the nearest fighter. Susan attempted to do the same, but though she had been fast enough to exploit the opening he had made in the Minbari net, she missed her shot to take out one of the enemy. Even telepathic communication is just too slow, Jason considered. I'll have to help her boost her reflexes. And so he insinuated himself directly into her mind and her nervous system. Relaying orders directly and assisting her nerves and muscles in pulling them off.

With the next pass, they burned down a pair of Nials simultaneously. The enemy continued to swarm, to enclose, to attempt to trap and extinguish them. But Jason and Susan now moved like a single unit. Minbari losses continued to mount. But it still wasn't enough. And, worse, Jason noticed other Minbari fighters, in the distance, bypassing him and giving chase to the other fleeing Starfuries. And still more Nials heading directly for the Nova, whose armament's were not well designed for fighter suppression.

That was unacceptable. Jason pushed against his exhaustion and forced his mind outward. He reached out broadly, touching every enemy pilot in range. Over here, he whispered to their collective subconsciousness. The real fight is over here.

And they came. They turned from other targets, and came, like moths to a flame. As the number of fighters Jason and Susan were engaging passed a hundred, Ironheart found himself almost constantly engaging Minbari minds, usually several at once. A hesitation on firing, an incorrect application of acceleration, a bank to port instead of starboard. All the while, pushing his own and Susan's bodies to their very limit.

And then, the delayed fire he caused, to allow yet another timely escape for Susan and himself, caught the Nial chasing them directly amidship. The Nial was blown apart. Well that worked out nicely. Jason began trying to arrange more of those accidents. He managed to get a couple of friendly fire incidents, a trio of midspace collisions. But he was already tracking so many vectors in space and time, just trying to keep Susan and himself alive and fighting, that trying to create accidental, indirect kills from the Minbari was just too difficult. It spread his concentration too much.

So instead he started creating purposeful, direct kills. One after another, a Minbari would suddenly turn and burn his wingmate from space. Or suddenly turn and ram directly into another. And still it was not enough, as yet another inbound flight of Minbari fighters joined the furball. And so Jason began to reach out through the ever mounting pain in his mind and body, and began to simply burn Minbari minds out of existence.

It took him several moments to notice and then comprehend the strange keening noise coming over comms. Somebody...somebody was screaming. An endless, wailing screech. And then, as he and Susan went through a modified version of the Thach Weave, the truth became apparent. At their closest pass, he got a good look inside her cockpit, and everything became clear. Her mouth was wide open, clearly emitting the wailing sound he was hearing. Blood ran from her nose, her ears, her eyes. Eyes which stared sightlessly into space. Blood which acceleration had drug in zigzagging tracks across her face and onto the inside of her visor. My God, he realized, forgetting everything else, I've been using her like a puppet.

And in that moment of distraction, of horror, a trio of Nials burst through and fired directly into the reactor housing of Susan's fighter. It detonated in an impressive display of energy. Jason was forced to shield his eyes for a moment and, when he managed to look again, there was simply no sign of Susan's Starfury.

What there was, was a strange bluish sphere. It was mostly transparent, and pulsing and shimmering with energy. Susan's body floated limp inside. Am...Am I doing that? With a start he detected the faintest pulse of life and thought within her mind. Relief flooded through him, briefly chasing away the pain. That relief was then itself supplanted by a towering wall of rage. Enough he screamed in his mind, and reached out. They were now surrounded by nearly two hundred Minbari fighters. Everyone of those fighters suddenly jerked, as though wires had been pulled by a now returned marionettist. They swung around, lining up like good wooden soldiers. Then, in a crescendo of violence and thunder, every one of those craft paired up with another, and self immolated in a symphony of head-on collisions.

Jason returned his attention to Susan, but had barely a moment before his Starfury was struck directly by the full fury of a Neutron Cannon. The Minbari capital ships had arrived, a Sharlin leading the way. His world flared green, and then he found himself sitting alone in space, still strapped into his seat, floating in a pulsing blue bubble of energy, identical to that which held Susan. Pain seared through his head, and a strange quaking seemed to shake the seat he sat on. He barely noticed, through the pain. Then, another Neutron cannon shot smacked into the bubble. And another. The pain in his head doubled, then quadrupled, seeming to increase exponentially as first one, then multiple Minbari vessels began pounding the strange energy spheres.

Jason screamed, the pain everything, excruciating, unbearable. He didn't know what to do. Something, he knew not what, for surely it was neither rational thought nor instinct, caused him to reach up and grab his head in a tight grip. And then he literally tore himself out of his body. He had stopped becoming. He had become.

My body is tiny, he thought, cupping it in his hand. But no, the body hadn't changed size, he had become enormous. And it wasn't a hand, but a scintillating chorus of energies. He caused his former body to convert itself to energy, and absorbed it into his new form, leaving only the seat behind. He glanced over at Susan. He realized, in a type of detached horror, that in his distraction he had allowed the energy field to dissipated. Her suit was breached, and had vented most of its precious air into space. Susan was dying, freezing and suffocating at the same time. He cupped her in his palm, and somehow drew the rapidly escaping gas molecules back in from the surrounding space, and forced them back into her suit.

Pain lanced through him, as a flurry of Neutron Cannon and Fusion Laser fire slammed into his chest. Enraged, he screamed at the oncoming fleet. His scream emerged from his mouth as a torrent of purple fire. It crossed tens of thousands of kilometers and washed over the oncoming fleet. When it passed, where once there had been nearly thirty Minbari capital ships, there now remained nought but drifting atoms.

And still his anger blazed. Cupping his palms together, a ball of scintillating blue and purple energy formed. He made a throwing motion, and it streaked towards the next, further back, knot of Minbari vessels. It was over twice the size of the previous wave, and well spread out. As the ball crossed several hundred thousand kilometers and passed into the formation, it struck not a single ship. But, upon reaching the center of the enemy wave, it burst, shattering itself into dozens of smaller meteors of energy, each of which descended unerringly onto a Minbari ship. This time, at least chunks of matter were left behind, though none larger than a Minbari head.

The third wave was just over a million kilometers beyond that. Ironheart didn't bother to throw energy at them. He simply reached across the distance and seized the electronic brains of their computers. As their crews shouted, screaming to each other and chaotically tapping and pounding at their useless control systems, all of those vessels turned to converge on a single point in space. The blast was impressive, even at this range.

All the other Minbari were so far back, they wouldn't even have seen or detected him with their systems. He chose to ignore them, and returned his attention to Susan. But it wasn't Susan. With a dawning confusion, he saw that this was Susan's body, but not Susan's mind. It was like some distorted mirror image, a pale copy, far from the real thing. This notSusan was wrong, an abomination. No wonder her fighting skills were so...average. How had he ever been fooled by this...thing. Anger bubbled inside of him. He wouldn't accept notSusan. He clenched his fist, and did...something. He wasn't quite certain what. But, when he opened his palm, notSusan was simply gone.

In her place, Susan, the real Susan. Was back. And she was gasping for breath. His lack of concentration had allowed the atmosphere to escape from her suit again. He needed to get her to safety before another mistake left her irrevocably dead.

He looked around. The other Starfuries were gone. The Lexington and Midway had disappeared into the Kuiper belt, perhaps already having transitioned to hyperspace. But there, in the distance, just diving deep into the Kuiper belt, was the Nova.

With a thought, Jason became tiny, holding Susan in his arms, rather than his hand. He closed his eyes and concentrated. When he opened them again, he was in Susan's room aboard the Nova. He laid her gently into her bunk, and then took off her helmet. She was breathing normally. Her eyes fluttered, and then cracked open.

And then bolted open. "What the hell?" she shouted, seeing the strange being of energy standing over her, pulsing with light, energy, and fire. She scrambled backwards in her bunk, and pressed her back against the bulkhead. "Who are you? What are you?"

Sadness washed through him. It was followed by a wave of pain. The room around them...the entire ship...began to shake violently. A moment later, the lights changed, and sirens began to wail, as the ship went to red alert. But, the mind quake died off.

He had done too much, too fast. He had expended far too much energy. His form was no longer stable. Once again, his thoughts were seeming to drag, as pain coursed through this thing which wasn't quite a body.

"What the hell was that?" Susan shouted.

He needed to leave, before an accident or another mind quake killed them all. Destroyed the ship. But...he needed to say goodbye first. He reached out with his mind and grabbed. And in the next minute, Talia and Lyta appeared. And their friend...Tessa something or other...appeared with them.

Why had that happened? Talia and Lyta were in uniform and holding hands. That almost certainly meant that they had been at their station on the bridge. They would have been holding hands as part of a ring of telepaths, combining their minds to track any Minbari which got close enough. He had not brought in the other telepaths whose hands Talia and Lyta had surely been holding. So the physical contact of Tessa's hand on Lyta's shoulder was certainly not the explanation.

Susan gave a strangled squawk as her friends literally materialized out of thin air. Talia, Lyta, and Tessa were all equally shocked, particularly when they noticed him. Tessa and Lyta gasped and backed up to the nearest bulkhead. But, not Talia. She knew who he was. She recognized him.

"Jason? Jason...what happened to you?"

He spoke, not in words, but they all somehow understood him. "Talia, I have become. I am a danger to you. I must go." She was crying. Of course she was crying. All that time together, and he had never adequately told her how he felt, what she meant to him. And now, now it was too late. But, perhaps he could do one last thing for her. Show her how he felt. "In memory of love, I give you a gift. The only gift I have to give."

He reached out and bathed her in his energy, touching her mind, attempting to give her a gift he knew she would love. One which would always make her think of him. He felt a strange tug. And echo from the other women around him. These four ladies...they were connected somehow. They shared a fellowship. A sisterhood. That was why Tessa had been dragged in with Lyta and Talia.

Their minds echoed with what he was doing to Talia, his energy bleeding across to them. He realized that their minds reflected each other. The gift he meant to give...it would be strengthened and reinforced if he gave it to all of them. He spread his hands, and for a moment the room and everyone in it was bathed in light. "Goodbye, ladies. I will see you again, someday." As he allowed the light to fade, all four women fell unconscious.

And then the pain struck anew, and the ship lurched and shook violently. In the room around him, the women were hurled against the bulkheads. Bunks were ripped from their anchoring, and footlockers exploded open, hurling their contents across the room.

Pain and exhaustion surged through him. He needed to leave, now. Closing his eyes, he pushed, and when he opened them, he was hundreds of millions of kilometers away. Back, deep into the heart of the system. Safely away, far enough that he was no longer a danger to the ship. He was back in his expanded form. With his enhanced eyesight, not at all dependent upon the passage of simple photons, he watched as the Nova tore open a hole into hyperspace and escaped, the image all the more beautiful to his new eyes.

A moment later, the pain and exhaustion redoubled. He had pushed and pushed, doing more and more before this form had stabilized. He was dying. His thoughts began to drag. He no longer had the energy to maintain them. Confusion fogged his mind.

Panic surged through him. He couldn't breathe! He had no lungs, and he was in vacuum, so how could he possibly breathe? And with that thought, he began to flail about, desperate for a breath that wouldn't come. Desperate to pump lungs that weren't there. He looked around desperately, and his eyesight zoomed out, taking in the grand breadth of the galaxy. It was too much. Too much. He began to black out, still flailing about, expending what little energy he had left.

A hand grasped his shoulder...he had a shoulder!...and his vision snapped back to that with which he had grown. "Easy Jason, Heart of Iron. I have you."

He was breathing. He was in vacuum, but breathing normally. He had lungs! He looked down and saw that he was back in his original body. Wait. Somebody just spoke to me. With some trepidation, he turned. There was a being there. An alien, still clasping his shoulder. "Who…" Somehow he was able to speak...to breathe and speak...despite being in vacuum. "Who are you?"

The alien smiled kindly at him. He had a proud, somewhat leonine face. He wore strange clothing, including a majestic diadem, emblazoned with a sizeable gem in the center of his large forehead. He spoke? "Who am I? Now that is a very weighted question. One wonders if it might not be indicative of your future leanings. But to answer your question, I have had many names. Been called many things. But you, Jason, Heart of Iron, you may call me Lorien."
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Hyperspace, near Z'ha'dum - The Sakai Path, EAS Eratosthenes - May, 2249

Gideon watched as the Lexington and Midway charged past, on their way up the ladder of ships which led to the hole in the dual gravity shears which Lieutenant Sakai had discovered. The civilians were already calling it the Sakai path, which sounded just fine to him. Of course, the Lieutenant would be insufferable once she got back aboard, but she had more than earned the right.

"Communication from Captain Sinclair," Kathway advised him.

"Send it to my station." A moment later, Jeff Sinclair's face appeared on his personal screen. "What can I do for you, Captain?"

"Not much now. I take it this chain of ships leads to our escape route?" At Gideon's nod, he continued. "Amazing work, locating a hyperspace route is so little time."

"It was hardly me, Captain. A great number of people put in a great deal of work. And it was Lieutenant Sakai who actually found the route. You could perhaps thank her in person."

Sinclair offered a small grin. "I may just have to do that. But, as you said, the credit belongs to a great number of people. I look forward to reading your report."

"Captain...what about the Nova?" Matt asked with some trepidation.

"The Minbari got too close for us to escape cleanly. Commodore Sheridan elected to stay behind to fight a delaying action. He told us not to expect him; that it was highly unlikely they would make it out. But, so far as I know, no one has ever made any money betting against the Commodore. Give him an hour. If they don't show up by then, your orders are to pull in the Cutters I see you've got on picket duty, reel in this lifeline you've built, and leave no trace behind. In the meantime, I will be taking the Lexington and the Midway to the head of the class."

"Acknowledged, Sir."

"Sinclair, out."

In the end, they only had to wait about twenty minutes. In the distance, in an eruption of swirling bluish light, a vortex formed and the Nova emerged into hyperspace.

"Open a comm channel to the Nova," he ordered. Shortly, Sheridan appeared on his screen. "Welcome to hyperspace, Sir. I see you made good your escape, once again."

"Wasn't me this time. It was...I'm not sure what it was. I would think I had been dreaming, if I didn't have sensor logs to prove otherwise."

"Commodore?" Gideon asked in confusion.

"It's not every day you run into a spacegod."

"Spacegod, Sir?" Gideon wasn't sure he had heard correctly.

"Well, not really, obviously. But some form of hyper evolved alien. Perhaps one of the former inhabitants of this system. An enormous energy humanoid. You probably think I've lost it. Hell, even I think I've lost it. But, aside from sensor logs, it also grabbed three personnel off of our bridge. We're searching the ship right now, in the hopes that it returned them somewhere else. Enough of that, though. Report."

"Yes, Sir. As ordered, we performed a thorough search of local hyperspace, looking for a path outward which would not require us to return to the local beacon. I'll provide a full report later, but in the end Lieutenant Sakai found us a way out. She stumbled into an unknown beacon trail, which is why you don't see any temporary beacons laid out here. The pair of ships you are reading in the distance are the first link in a chain that heads off towards that beacon path. Once we reel in that chain, we'll leave nothing behind to tip the Minbari off as to where we went. We'll have made a clean escape. Depending on where that beacon leads to, we may very well be clear of the Minbari, permanently."

"Well, let's hope so, but don't count on it. Has there been any sign of the Minbari?"

"No, Sir. I've had Commander Locarno and his Cutters acting as a tripwire, and the best passive sensors on the Eratosthenes scanning continuously, and we haven't seen a thing. Obviously hyperspace limits how far we can see, but that affects the Minbari as well. Besides, if they'd seen us they'd probably have dropped on us by now."

"Then let's get out of here, before that changes. Take the Eratosthenes up your chain. The Nova will bring up the rear. Sheridan, out."
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Hyperspace, near Z'ha'dum - Minbari Fleet, The Valen'Tha - May, 2249

The enormous hologram, filling the ceiling of the Grey Council's meeting chamber, roiled with reddish hues. In the center, nearly obscured by the murk of hyperspace, was the retreating form of the Nova. On the floor below stood the full Council in their customary ring, each member picked out in their own individual circles of light. Each member stood, studying the hologram from beneath raised hoods. At the center of their circle, present only as a hologram, stood the Hiai'sa in command of the scout vessel currently relaying the holographic image they all watched. Next to him stood Shai'Alyt Branmer, also present only in holographic form.

"Hiai'sa Deermer, have you anything else to report?" Came a disembodied female voice. It was obviously from one of the nine Satai, but Deermer could not tell which one.

She bowed deeply, turning slightly as she did so, so as to include as many of the surrounding Council as possible. "No Satais. Nothing more, save that the human craft are moving off rapidly. If we are to follow, it must be now."

Branmer nodded. "Excellent work, Hiai'sa. Now, disconnect and await the instructions of the Council. Deermer said no more. She merely gave another shallow bow, and then her hologram winked out of existence.

Once she was gone, Coplann lowered his hood and stepped forward. "I extend congratulations to you, Shai'Alyt. If not for your timely order to spread scouts out into hyperspace, we would never have discovered the human craft, or the route they were taking….particularly after the failure of your vessels in the system to stop Starkiller...or even to prevent him from slaughtering so many of those same vessels. By the way, do you yet have any explanation for what happened?"

If Branmer was at all discomfited by the thinly veiled attack, he certainly did not show it. He merely inclined his head slightly and stated, "Nothing concrete Satai Coplann. Nearly six score vessels were destroyed, mostly Sharlin, but also including a number of Tinashis and lesser vessels. In fact, every vessel, ship or fighter, close enough to take detailed sensor recordings of the event were amongst the casualties. Those ships far enough back to be spared could not get clear enough images of the event. In fact, sensor readings were significantly less detailed than they should have been, even at the given ranges. No explanation for this has yet been found. However, while the limited information available is still being analyzed, what data we have been able to gather strongly indicates one likely explanation."

"And that would be?"

"Another set of Shadow defenses. Something truly powerful. Perhaps even the Shadows themselves. We are in their system after all. This is where Dukhat wanted us to come, to see if they had returned. Perhaps they have. Perhaps they have been actively working against us, though that is entirely speculation. Whether or not it was the Shadows, simple misfortune on our part to stumble across those defenses, or if Starkiller intentionally lead our forces through them...that I cannot say. But this system has left me feeling...uneasy. As you know, once it happened, I ordered the rest of our forces within the system to slow their pursuit and take a more cautious and measured approach forward."

Coplann frowned. "Have you detected any real evidence that that Shadows have returned? That they are active, here in this system?"

"We have not, Satai."

"Then it is inappropriate for the Shai'Alyt to be taking counsel of superstitious fears. Your 'more cautious and measured approach' allowed Starkiller to escape into hyperspace."

"Where Hiai'sa Deermer detected him; yes, Satai."

Coplann grumbled, clearly having wished to get more of a response out of Branmer. Taking a breath, he continued, "Then I see no reason to make the Hiai'sa wait any further for a decision. Our course is clear. We must give chase and destroy the humans." Calling out to the hidden but perpetually listening subordinates around them, he began to order, "Reopen the…"

"No!" called out a strident voice. One of the Nine stepped forward, lowering the concealing hood. Coplann stopped in surprise, not because it was uncommon for Delenn to oppose him...that was practically all she did...but because it was very rare for her to speak so forcefully. "We will not be sending that ship, or any ship, to follow the humans. I will not allow it."

"You won't allow it, Delenn? It is hardly your decision."

"And neither is it yours to order our forces forward," she retorted.

"Is it not? I suppose I might argue that it is the Council's decision. That we should call a vote. But, that vote has already happened. Multiple times. You cannot argue this, Delenn. We must end this war, which cannot happen until Starkiller and his forces are destroyed. Only when that has happened can we end this chase."

"Yes, exactly."

"Don't try to argue with me, Delenn, you know...what did you say?" he asked, taken aback.

"I said 'exactly.' What you just said is perfectly correct. The war ends when Starkillers forces have been destroyed. Well, look there above you," she said, gesturing at the retreating form of the Nova, still visible in the hologram above them. "They have destroyed themselves."

"I...I don't understand," Coplann admitted reluctantly. "That vessel is perfectly fine."

"And just as perfectly dead. Sensors detect no sign of a beacon for them to follow. Which means they are just throwing themselves blindly into hyperspace. Whether they are taking a fool's chance at escape, simply wish to deny our warriors the pleasure of killing them, or hope to draw some of those same warriors to their deaths; it matters not. By diving into hyperspace, bereft of a beacon to follow, they have caused their own deaths as surely as if they had driven themselves under our Neutron Cannons. Any ships we chose to send after them would merely suffer the same fate. As little as I relish the idea of the humans dying slowly in the void of hyperspace as their reserves dwindle and their power supplies slowly exhaust themselves, far less would I enjoy the thought of sending our own people to that horrifying demise. The humans have chosen their death. Leave them too it."

"You...you cannot be certain this will kill them, Delenn."

"Can I not? Satai Durlan, please tell us, of all of the younger races, which is the most capable of traversing hyperspace without a direct beacon lock?"

Another figure slowly stepped forward and lowered his hood. Durlan was a member of the Worker Caste, and well respected in his knowledge. "That would assuredly be us, Satai Delenn. Only the Vorlons or other first ones exceed our capabilities in navigating hyperspace."

"And could we just take a fleet blindly into hyperspace, without an anchoring beacon?"

"No, Satai Delenn. That would assuredly lead to our destruction. We can explore out into hyperspace much more rapidly than any of the other younger races, but not that rapidly. Just like all of the younger races, we require beacons. It is only First Ones who may freely enter hyperspace."

"The humans have one of their exploration ships with them," Coplann argued. "The Hiai'sa said the massive thing was just visible in the distance, beyond Starkiller's dreadnought, when first she reported in. It has since passed beyond view, but surely its presence explains the humans actions."

Delenn did not even need to argue. Durlan did it for her. "It assuredly does not, Satai Coplann. Just like us, just like all of the younger races, the human explorer craft must operate by leaving a trail of temporary beacons back to a permanent beacon. Nothing on Hiai'sa Deermer's sensors shows any signs of a trail of temporary beacons. The truth is inescapable. The humans have committed suicide. Unless you believe the humans have First One level capabilities."

The rest of the Satais were far too polite to laugh outright, but Coplann felt their mirth nonetheless. Delenn resumed speaking. "This war is over. Any chance for the humans to find safe harbor after a leap into hyperspace would require the universe itself to intervene on their behalf. This seems quite unlikely. I will not throw our Warriors after them, simply to witness their torturous deaths, only to share that fate as well. Why do you argue, Satai Coplann? We all wanted an end to the war, and now we have it. As you yourself have often noted, we have a great many things to deal with now that we can move on?"

Coplann tried one last argument. "Ending the war requires us to be certain, Delenn. To witness the destruction of those vessels. There is a chance, however remote, that the humans will find safe harbor. That they will return to haunt us in a thousand years."

"Then we will deal with them if that unlikely event should come to pass." Sighing, Delenn relented. "Oh, alright Satai Coplann. In acknowledgement of your valid concerns, I suggest we bring in a team of deep exploration ships to search for the corpses of the human fleet. Given their bearing, this is a task which will quite likely take centuries, if not millenia. But it is an effort we can afford, to put all fears to rest and truly end the war. However, as of now, we must treat the war as though it is fully ended. The Minbari have much to do. Much I know you are eager to accomplish, Satai Coplann. And though you may not believe that the Shadows have returned, you cannot argue that there are defenses in this system which were not here at the end of the last Shadow War. Whether from the Shadows themselves, or those who would follow in their footsteps, we must remain vigilant. We must be prepared."

"And if we find the humans alive and well?"

"Then, of course, we resume our efforts to end their threat."

Coplann let the argument die. It would have to be enough. And there was, after all, a great deal that he wanted to accomplish.
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Hyperspace, leaving Z'ha'dum - EAS Nova - May, 2249

Susan was the first to awaken, clenching her eyes shut and gripping her head in pain. She was not, however, the first to complain about it. Oh my fraggin' head, Tessa thought. I wanna die.

No, you just think you do, Lyta responded. Give it a minute. It's getting better.

Get out of my fraggin' head, Tessa shot. Your making it hurt worse, and we agreed you wouldn't get in my head without permission first.

You're the one who's broadcasting, Talia advised sadly.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? I'm no telepath.

Susan took a deep breath and sighed, opening her eyes. "You are now," she said aloud, finally breaking the silence. Now her ears hurt. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. I did."

Tessa groaned and sat up, also opening her eyes. "That's not possible. You can't just become a telepath. It's not contagious." She looked around the room. The four friends were pressed against the aft bulkhead. The room was a disaster. The shattered remains of their footlockers, as well as their contents, floated and spun through the air. Undergarments drifted amongst datapads and shoes, makeup containers and pillow cases. "Zero g," Tessa noted, "so we must not be in combat any more if we aren't accelerating." Memory returned to her. The memory of a form made entirely of energy. "And what the hell was that thing?"

"That thing," Talia offered sadly, "was Jason Ironheart. And now he's gone, and I didn't even say goodbye." She wept silently for a moment, then turned a tear streaked face to Tessa. "He said he was giving a gift, 'in memory of love.' So why are you the one who's suddenly a telepath?"

"Guys…" Susan began, trying to get their attention.

"Tessa...were you sleeping with Talia's fiance'?" Lyta asked suspiciously.

"What? No, of course not! How can you even ask that?"

"Ladies…" Susan began again.

"I barely knew the man," Tessa continued.

"Then why exactly did he give his final gift to you," Talia practically hissed.

Girls! Susan shouted into their minds.

"WHAT?!" three angry faces shouted as they spun to her.

Susan took a deep breath. "We're...we're not in zero g."

"Don't be ridiculous, Susan," Tessa spat, throwing out her arm to indicate all of the flotsam floating gently through the air.

In response, Susan drew their attention to a pencil resting against her boot where she had placed it flat against the deck. She brought one hand gracefully down to the pencil, and flicked it with her finger, rolling it up the deck. It slowed, stopped, and then rolled back to its resting place. Susan then reached up and unzipped a pocket in her flight suit. Pulling out an emergency ration pack, she threw it gently forward into the room. Its motion slowed just as it would in a light gravity field, and then it too returned to Susan, dropping neatly into her hand. "I'd say the Nova is running at about three quarters acceleration."

Four sets of eyes now turned to the mess of detritus floating and tumbling through the air. "What the hell?" Tessa murmured softly.

Lyta cleared her throat. "Talia..I think this is your gift. Do you remember the TK test they gave us just before we were assigned to Project Exodus?"

Talia's brow furrowed in confusion. "Of course. I used an old penny I've had since I was a girl. I tried for days to make it move with my thoughts. I couldn't do it."

Lyta nodded. "Only one in every thousand humans has telepathic ability. Only one in every ten thousand telepaths has telekinetic abilities, and half of them are clinically insane. The half that aren't...moving a penny is about the most they can do." She took a deep breath and reached out a hand. "There's my favorite bra," she said softly, and suddenly that particular article of clothing arrested in mid air, and the flew sedately into her hand.

"That's not possible," Susan breathed.

"And yet it's true," Talia softly responded. Reaching out with her mind, she snagged her treasured penny out of the air, and brought it to hover in front of her face, rotating gently.

"So why can't I bring that shoe to me?" Tessa asked, reaching out with both hands and a look of concentration on her face.

"Because you're not the one who's lifting it," Susan guessed. "That's my shoe." With a thought, the offending footwear, came straight to her. "Wait a second." A look of intense concentration came over her face, and suddenly every one of her possessions floating through the air, clothes and other personal belongings, as well as the shattered remains of her footlocker, all came together to reassemble in the correct location. Talia, Lyta, and Tessa all gasped. And then the shattered pieces of the foot locker collapsed, and Susan's very untidy and unfolded possessions spilled out onto the floor once more. "Well," she laughed, "I guess it's not actually magic then."

Talia and Lyta burst into gales of laughter. Tessa, however, was enthralled with her PPG. She had it spinning gently above her palm. "This is amazing," she said, "but how the hell do we explain this?"

"We start by reporting about Jason," Susan stated. "Part of me thinks we should keep the rest a secret, but this fleet has already had far too many of those. Let's...I think we should start by telling that part to Captain Sinclair or Commodore Sheridan. I trust them to not immediately have us dissected."

"We can trust Stephen," Tessa offered. "But under no circumstances do we let Commander Bester know before the Commodore. This is a big deal. We have to be careful. Agreed?"

"Agreed," they each chorused.
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Unknown System - EAS Eratosthenes - May, 2249

The bulk of the Command Staff was gathered in the largest of the Eratosthenes many conference rooms. This one happened to enjoy an actual window out into space. Commodore Sheridan had gathered them here aboard the Eratosthenes to take advantage of the artificial gravity while they discussed their next moves. Despite their best efforts, the extended zero-G was beginning to affect the crew more and more.

But, that was a conversation for another time. For now, there were more important discussions to have, more important decisions to make. Despite this, Sheridan found himself staring out the window at the dead world below. A world which had never been seen by any human before. A world, if he understood correctly, which had probably never been seen by any of the species he had met over the years. It shone dully in the light of the nearby red dwarf star. Turning away from the window, he spoke to the only civilian in the room. "Alright, Dr. Eilerson, IPX says you're the smartest person they've got. Explain to us where the hell we're at."

"I can't," Max said smugly. "Or, at least I can't tell you exactly. We are off the known beacon network. As was noted previously, the beacon we followed to get here was not consistent with any beacon know to our charts or those we received from the Abbai. Upon inspection of this system, the same is proving to be true."

"How is that even possible?" Sinclair asked.

"War. If a beacon path is severed during war, intentionally or unintentionally, it is possible that it might never be reestablished," Eilerson explained. "According to the records from the Abbai, this exact thing happened to a polity known as the Woon Stellar Association. Apparently quite a while back they found themselves at war with the Drazi. Despite being much larger in size, they weren't very good at war, and soon found themselves losing more and more territory. In desperation, they began severing beacon routes. The Drazi were unable to find them, unable to advance. This ended the war, but no one has had heard from them since. It's likely the Woon were unable to reestablish their beacon routes, leaving them permanently cut off. Several races have mounted exploratory expeditions attempting to reestablish contact, all to no avail."

"I think I heard something about that when we were on Zhabar," Doctor Franklin noted.

Eilerson nodded. "Possibly. Note that we risked a similar fate ourselves during the war, when we began manipulating the beacon signals. We didn't go as far though. Besides, apparently the Minbari are far better at searching through hyperspace than the Drazi ever were."

"The war in this system, Dr. Eilerson," Sheridan chided him gently to get back on topic.

Max cleared his throat. "Yes, well, there must have been a war here," Max explained. "The planet below was once habitable, but it is suffering from exactly the same kind of bombardment damage we saw at Z'ha'dum. From roughly the same time period as well, if our scans are accurate."

"So possibly part of the same nation? And how long ago was that?" Kathway inquired. She was a member of the Command Staff in her own right, but was currently filling in for Gideon, as he was busy on another task.

"Several thousand years, at least. Perhaps as many as ten or twelve. Look at the gate we came through," he said, pulling up an image of the gate on a nearby panel. It was completely surrounded by a rocky debris field. The surface was pitted and cracked, and the power was clearly unsteady, as the lights flickered quite frequently. Max continued, "All of the debris you see here appears to have stuck to the gate prior to our arrival, slowly accumulated by simple gravity. If a new species native to this system suddenly sprang up, they would never have found it. It would have looked like no more than any other rubble pile asteroid. Given the amount of debris in this region of space, in order for the gate to build up that much rubble it would have again required several thousand years. No one has touched that gate in all that time. Not until we came through."

"It's amazing that something that old could still be functioning without maintenance," Kathway offered.

"Indeed. Whoever built it clearly built it to last. As you can see, its power source has slowly begun to fail, but I anticipate that it will last at least another thousand years. Perhaps two or three."

"What else can you tell us about this new gate network or the people who built it, Doctor?" Sheridan asked.

"Not much. As you know, there is exactly one beacon path leading away from this system. Given the similarities between this system and what we saw at Z'ha'dum, as well as the general state of abandonment, I suspect that any system we find further up the network will be similarly abandoned and in the same state of disrepair. It's probably just a small branch of the overall network, cut off long ago at the same time, its populace was exterminated. Not even the Abbai knew that it existed."

"So in other words," Lochley offered quietly, "a perfect place to hide from the Minbari. A perfect place to put down roots and rebuild the human race."

"With the exception that all of the garden worlds are likely to have been bombed into inhabitability," Garibaldi countered.

"Then we may have to do some terraforming. That was always a possibility," Lochley countered stubbornly. "And we might just find a planet that wasn't completely sterilized. That has managed to recover."

Eilerson merely shrugged. "I couldn't say."

"Thank you Doctor, that will be all," Sheridan ordered, coming to stand at the head of the table. "We'll try your idea, Elizabeth. Search for someplace habitable. At the very least, I don't want to stay in this system, just in case the Minbari do manage to follow us." He looked up as Gideon entered the room, and made eye contact with the man. Matt gave a small shake of his head, and Sheridan restrained himself from sighing. "Before we can do that though, we have a number of things to take care of in this system. Not the least of which is a good hard maintenance period. All of our ships were worked hard in Z'ha'dum. Given our losses in pilots, I'll also be asking Captains Sinclair and Lochley and Commander Bester to run simultaneous classes. We have Starfuries in storage, but are operating below fifty percent on pilots. We also can't overlook at least a small R&R period for a significantly overworked fleet. There's a lot more besides. More than I can think of right now. I'll be sending out a complete list to all of you. Dismissed." As the crowd of officers started to disperse, John called out, "Captain Sinclair, Commander Gideon, please remain for a moment." He waited as the room emptied, save for Jeff and Matt, now both waiting on him. Of course, Matt knew exactly what was coming.

"What's up, John?" Sinclair asked once the room had cleared. He and Sheridan had recently allowed themselves to become less formal, at least in fairly private gatherings.

Unfortunately, this was not an occasion for informality. At least not to start with. He drew a deep breath, and stood to attention. "Captain Sinclair, it is my unfortunate duty to inform you that, as of now, Lieutenant Catherine Sakai is officially missing in action. She was instrumental in the location of a path away from Z'ha'dum, and in organizing the ensuing evacuation. Her last known contact was a report noting that she was investigating a potentially disabled ship, to ensure it was not left behind. We are unaware of any other missing ships, but the Rokai has not reported in, and is not present in the fleet. Unfortunately, circumstances now ensure that there is no way for the Lieutenant to rejoin the fleet, nor any option or possibility of us returning to search for her. On behalf of Earth Force and the entire human race, I must extend to you my deepest sympathy in your great loss."

Jeff grabbed for a chair, and nearly toppled to the floor as he would have missed it. Fortunately, Matt had been watching, and shoved the chair into place just in time. He felt the need to speak. "I'm so sorry, Captain. This is my fault. If I had been watching things closer, maybe I would have noticed she hadn't checked in. Catherine was an integral part of my crew. She was an amazing person, who always gave her all to do her duty. No one could ever replace her. I owe you a debt which can never be repaid."

Jeff dragged his eyes up from the floor, shimmering with unshed tears, and made eye contact with Gideon. "You stuff that shit now, Commander! We've already spoken once about you accepting guilt and responsibility for things that were not under your control. I've read your report. Finding the Sakai path and getting the fleet down it took a superhuman effort on everyone's part. Coming up with the method was nothing short of genius. The fact that more people aren't missing is what you should be taking responsibility for, not a single loss which is well below the casualty ratio for similarly sized training missions!"

Matt was shocked at his vehemence. "I...I'm sorry, Captain."

"Commander. Stop. Fragging. Apologizing!" He took a deep breath. "Besides, she's not dead. I'd know. She's out there somewhere. Maybe, someday, if I'm luckier than I have any right to be, I'll find her again." John and Matt made eye contact upon this pronouncement, both worried for the mental health of their friend. But, Jeff wasn't done. "Commodore, Commander, if you don't mind, I feel the need to be alone for a few moments."

John straightened. "Of course, Captain. Take as much time as you need. And please, let us know if you need anything."

"Of course, Commodore." Then, turning, he sat staring out the window at the dead planet below.
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Unknown System - The White Star liner Atlantis - May, 2249

"Doctor," Captain Elizabeth Lochley said, trying to remain polite, "as impressive as your new digs are, we really do have quite a bit to do. Why exactly are we here?"

"Ladies…"

"Captains," Sandra Levitt interrupted.

Franklin nodded in acknowledgement. "Captains, it was brought to my attention by Commodore Sheridan that during the recent...unpleasantness… that what was essentially an untested and unregulated medical procedure was performed upon you…."

"Oh," Levitt interrupted again. "You mean how we were telepathically mind-raped out of our free will. Were you referring to that untested and unregulated procedure, Doctor? Yes, do go on."

Franklin cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yes...well, uhmmm...anyway, once I was advised of the situation, I impressed upon the Commodore the importance of ensuring you were both in good health. That you were not suffering from any side effects or mental trauma."

Levitt smiled sweetly. "You mean, aside from being telepathically mind-raped out of our free will?"

Franklin cleared his throat again. "Yes, well...aside from that, yes." He sighed. "Things have been too busy up until now for me to pull you in. But, now that we have escaped from danger for a little while, it's time to take a look. And there is no better place to accomplish this than here, which is why I asked that you come aboard. Follow me, please."

"And what if we don't want to be poked and prodded," Elizabeth asked. "Were you planning on making this an order? As the Chief Medical Officer of the fleet, you have that authority."

"Only if I have to," he replied somberly. He walked out of a door in the pristine new waiting room in which they had met. Waiting a moment to ensure they were following him, he traversed the corridor beyond and into a large, state of the art examination room.

He waved happily to the room around them. "As you will both recall, the fleet was provided with a sufficiency of trained medical personnel. But, while we have plenty of ships that were designed for scientific research, the same is not true for the fleet's medical needs. Now, we had the tools and the materials necessary to put together a great hospital and medical center, once we had completed our journey and begun colonizing somewhere, but no equivalent facility within the fleet. It was assumed that local ship med bays would handle the need. And they've done a fairly good job, despite being overwhelmed by numbers they were never meant to accommodate. But, a medbay is basically the equivalent to a small clinic. It will never have the efficiency or capabilities of a truly professional medical center or hospital. Which is why, several months ago, I convinced then Captain Sheridan to back an effort to build this facility within the fleet...since we had no idea how long our journey would take. I've since gained some insights into the...Captains' Council, which was in place at the time. That Sheridan brought it to a vote before the resources could be alloted. . So, I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you both."

"I didn't vote for you." Lochley said unapologetically.

Levitt sighed. "But I did. You're welcome, Doctor. Now, can we please get on with this?"

"Of course." He brought them over to a somewhat small alcove set into the large room. It seemed to be divided into two smaller rooms by a half wall and a curtain, currently open. The side he led them two was packed with a number of medical devices. The other side held a bed and a recumbent male, his head wrapped in bandages. He appeared to be a sleep, and an unfamiliar female doctor, a tall woman of mixed African descent, was checking his vitals. He indicated that they should take seats in the unoccupied half, then made introductions. "Captains Lochley and Levitt, allow me to introduce Doctor Sarah Chambers. She's our Chief Virologist, and one of the all around best doctors we have. We actually picked up quite a few bugs on Zhabar, and she's been busy tamping them down every since. She's also been made aware of your situation, so you can speak freely about the..."

"Telepathic mind-raping out of our free will?" Sandra supplied sardonically.

Franklin cleared his throat. "I was going to say untested and unregulated medical procedure, but yes, that."

"Are you going to keep calling it that?" Elizabeth asked, turning on Sandra. "It happened. Maybe we should just try to make the best of the rest of our lives."

"Yes, I will, to anyone I'm actually allowed to discuss it with. But, of course, we've been ordered to silence with anyone not in the loop. You may have agreed to this, but I think death would have been preferable. And we're not even allowed that escape. So no, I won't just smile and go along to get along."

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Lochley attempted to change the subject by nodding at Sarah's patient and asking, "Should we be keeping our voices down? I wouldn't want to wake him."

"Feel free to wake him, if you can," Sarah said, sadly. "This man was one of the victims of our serial killer who managed to survive. Doctor Franklin happened to be close enough to where he was found to save his life. Unfortunately, having a hole drilled into his head did more than take out his telepathic ability. It put him into a coma. It is unlikely in the extreme that he will ever awaken. But, we try to stay hopeful, and keep his body in good shape, just in case."

So saying, Sarah closed the curtain, separating them from the comatose victim and effectively ending that topic of discussion. For the next twenty minutes, she and Franklin put the female Captains through a battery of tests. Finally, Stephen said, "Just one more test Captains, and then I can let you go." So saying, he motioned Elizabeth into a chair near the curtain, and reached out and picked up a wrist cuff, connected by a quartet of black hoses to a strange looking device. He then settled it onto Lochley's wrist, and began adjusting the controls on the device's console.

"That's a bizarre looking machine," she commented. "You know, I think medical equipment gets more and more alien looking each year."

Stephen shrugged. "Sometimes I feel that way too. This is pretty new. It scans your Mitochondrial DNA for damage or aberration. It'll just be another moment."

"Wasn't it already connected to your other patient?" she continued.

"We try to keep him under constant observation. But don't worry. It was designed to monitor two individuals at once. And...we're done." He motioned that Sandra should replace Elizabeth in the chair, and then settled the wrist cuff onto her arm. Shortly after, she to was done. "I want to thank you for your time, Captains. I'll be sure to inform you if we find anything troubling."

"After you inform the Commodore, of course," Levitt noted sourly.

"No. I'm your doctor, not his enforcer. Patient confidentiality still applies, no matter the current circumstances."

"Thank you, Doctor," Lochley cut in smoothly, "but we really do have quite a bit of work to do. We can see ourselves out." So saying, the Captains departed, and Stephen and Sarah began cleaning up.

It was a full two minutes before Sarah broke the silence. "Mitochondrial DNA?"

Defensively, he said, "If they should happen to look it up later, they'll find something appropriately scientific and medical sounding."

"Which just happens to not have anything to do with what was just done to them. Speaking of untested and unregulated medical procedures, I'm still not sure I agree with you performing one, particularly without the patient's knowledge or consent. Especially not when it's against the wishes and intentions of someone who has both the authority and the proven capability to have us both...how did the Captain put it?"

"Please, not the mind rape line. I've heard it enough, thank you."

"That doesn't make it any less true."

"True or not, John Sheridan is a good man, who was in an impossible situation. Just because I don't agree with his decision...just because I've decided to do something about it...that doesn't mean that I don't trust and respect the man. I don't think he'd do more than slap us on the wrists. But, he might choose to reimplement the Captains' punishment, and we can't have that.

"Nooo, certainly not," she responded, only slightly sarcastically. "Of course, you didn't respond to my point about this procedure being untested and unregulated. And what about its effects on our other patient?"

"I have tested the machine. It works just the way Max Eilerson translated, though he didn't think it would work, and didn't bother to check. So we're the only two who know about it. It was once used for corporal punishment, draining the life force from the condemned, and using it to heal the innocent. In many ways, it actually transfers damage, disease or decay. That makes it dangerous. But, under the right circumstances it can be useful."

"What circumstances?" she asked suspiciously.

"I would never use it as a form of punishment, 'do no harm' and all, but if you have a volunteer, or someone who will never miss what was taken, it could be useful."

"Who would volunteer for something like that? Especially before it had been tested?"

"I did. I ran some small tests with myself as the donor. Paper cuts, acne, that sort of thing. It turns out, while the damage is transferred, it's not as bad as the original. It's about fifty percent. Which meant that our patient here could donate just enough to cure the damaged portions of both Captain Lochley's and Captain Levitt's minds before that portion of his own brain gave out."

"Alright, but he didn't volunteer. You just added more brain damage to someone who has already suffered more than enough. What happened to 'do no harm?'"

"I also said someone who will never miss what was taken?"

"It's unlikely he will wake up, but we both know that there's at least a slim chance."

"No, there isn't. He will never wake up, but she might."

Sarah drew back the curtain to look at the very male patient beyond. Quirking an eyebrow at Franklin, she said, "Doctor, you're not making any sense."

Stephen gave her a half hearted smile, then looked down at the comatose body. "Our patient...rather, the man who once inhabited this body, died quite some time ago. He died when that smug, self righteous bastard Alfred Bester decided he wanted a backup for Susan Ivanova. This is where he kept it. In the process, he killed off the memories, the personality, the life that resided here first. Now it's just a copy of Susan Ivanova. If she ever wakes up, she'll have plenty of other problems to worry about, given we already have a Susan Ivanova, in her original body and with her full faculties."

Sarah took a deep breath, then met Stephen's eyes. "One more question. Why didn't you tell them they had their free will back? They would probably appreciate what you did."

"Let them figure it out on their own. Maybe they'll think the original process failed or wasn't complete. Or that they just healed naturally. I didn't do this for appreciation."

"Why did you?" she asked. "No matter what you say about Sheridan, this was a dangerous move. If he found out, he could still have you executed, or have your mind burned."

"Well, maybe that's why I didn't tell them...plausible deniability," he responded with a smirk. Then, growing more serious, he asked, "Do you know how I ended up on this fleet?"

"No."

"Before the war, I was assigned to a ship called the Archimedes. We heard about a ship that had crashed on a nearby, low tech world. We went in to help. It turned out, it was a Minbari ship. I did my best to help the crew, but I couldn't save any of them. However, between that and the later autopsies I performed, I learned a great deal about the Minbari.

"Then, during the war, I was ordered to use my research to create biological weapons for use against the Minbari. It went against everything I believed in." He paused, giving Sarah a chance to comment, but she remained silent, so he continued. "Instead, I refused, and destroyed all of my research so no one else could use it. 'Do no harm.' It means something to me. I was arrested. They talked about treason, Courts Martial, the works. Instead, I was given one last chance, and sent on a mission with John Sheridan. That didn't work out as hoped, but afterwards we were both pulled into Project Exodus. And the rest, as they say, is history."

"Leaving well enough alone here wouldn't have been doing harm, Doctor. You didn't have to risk yourself."

"Sometimes, not fixing a problem when you can is doing harm. At least, I think so. I was raised to always do the right thing, even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard. John Sheridan is my friend, and I hold him in very high regard. But I'll fix what needs to be fixed, whether he likes it or not."

"You're a strange man, Stephen Franklin."
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Ventox, The Vorlon Empire - Kosh's Ship - May, 2249

Welcome. Kosh Naranek bowed deeply as the most ancient Vorlon deigned to come aboard his ship. He was uncertain as to the exact meaning and repercussions of this particular Vorlon, first amongst equals of the Council which ruled his ancient race, coming to him; rather than summoning Kosh or sending another in his place. Without a doubt, it certainly meant an increase in his political standing. Not that this would be hard. His stock amongst the Vorlon government had fallen to near zero when the humans had seen fit to go to Z'ha'dum. That course had endangered the past, present, and future of his people. Vorlons, it seemed, were no more advanced than many of the younger races in their need to assign blame. Kosh's outspoken advice not to intervene had been seen as the great mistake which might have caused the calamity they all saw coming. He had been practically exiled.

And then, the humans had done the impossible. They had simply vanished, and no one was quite certain how. The Minbari believed they had performed a suicide dive into hyperspace. They hadn't left along any of the known hyperspace routes, and were no longer anywhere near Z'ha'dum, so the Vorlons had little reason to disbelieve the Minbari. But the temporal sensors Kosh had been monitoring indicated that the chances for a more promising and stable future were higher than ever. Other Vorlons assigned to monitor those sensors and guard the progression of time had confirmed that analysis. All of which meant the humans must still be out there. It meant that the near panic of the Council had been misplaced.

Kosh doubted that his esteemed visitor was coming to apologize to him. More likely than not, he was looking for something. Kosh guessed he knew what. If he was correct, then his standing amongst the Vorlons was about to increase even more.

Kosh, his visitor sent. The humans have vanished. The sending was laced with concern and confusion and images of the Council moving from one type of panic to another. It was filled with the endless hours of discussion and analysis as to just how a people as primitive as the humans could possibly have escaped the Minbari and the Shadows. It was certainly laden with the failure of the Vorlon 'experts' to come up with an explanation. Can you explain?

Yes. If Kosh had been human he would certainly have smiled. He may even have cackled with glee. Instead, he simply sent his explanation. The Lost Territories. An image, a reminder of what was lost in the great war ten millenia prior. Of a time when Shadow and the Vorlon territory had directly bordered each other. When the animosity had grown so great that the supposed caretakers of the galaxy had taken up arms directly against each other, instead of following their usual pattern of using the younger races to duke it out by proxy. Vast swaths of their territory, entire stretches of the hyperspace gate network, had burned in the fires of war. That entire chunk of territory had been so devastated, so entirely depopulated, that the hyperspace routes connecting to it had failed, and the territory lost. It would have been easy enough for the First Ones to relocate and repopulate that territory, but its loss had been the shock to the system necessary to get both the Shadows and Vorlons to step back and end the war. The armistice agreement which had followed had forbidden either the Shadows or the Vorlons to re-enter that territory...or even to explore it. This kept their territories seperated, and for ten millenia had prevent any of their squabbles from reaching that level of carnage or devastation.

Impossible, came the response, loaded with skepticism. They were called the Lost Territories for a reason. The routes to enter them no longer existed.

Incorrect. The paths through hyperspace still existed. It was merely the connections of the hyperspace beacons to light the way which had been severed. Skilled and lucky humans just might have found a way to use the hidden paths.

The ancient vorlon mulled the potential repercussions. He clearly did not like the possibilities. Just because those territories had been devastated and depopulated, that didn't mean that everything out there had been destroyed. There might still be Vorlon secrets for the humans to uncover. The possibilities were more than concerning. One in particular could bring chaos to the galaxy. The humans might find the Experiment. His concern was practically an accusation. A statement that the humans couldn't have made it to the Lost Territories, simply because the potential repercussions were unacceptable.

Yes, sent Kosh, with the mental equivalent of a shrug. What would be, would simply be, if the universe willed it.

A course of action?

Patience. Nonintervention had turned out to be the correct action so far. The temporal sensors all but confirmed it. The consequences of violating the armistice with the Shadows would be far worse than the potential impact of anything the humans might find in the Lost Territories. Trust. Trust the humans to do what was in their best interests, and thus the best interests of everyone. Trust the Vorlon people to respond correctly when the time called for it. Trust the universe to guide them all to the appropriate final outcome.

The ancient one paused, considering Kosh's argument. Then without further comment, he simply nodded and withdrew.
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Z'ha'dum - Deep below the surface of Z'ha'dum - May, 2249

The Shadow was feeling somewhat torn by recent events. On the one forelimb manipulator, a great many Minbari had been slain by the automated defense systems. That was good. But, on the other forelimb manipulator, the vast majority of their fleet had simply left, under their own terms. No one was supposed to be able to simple leave Z'ha'dum. But then, if they had stayed, it would likely have been to perform an all out assault. Given their numbers and preparation compared to the Shadows' own, it was possibly they might have destroyed something or someone vital, delaying the next war by as much as a thousand years. The fact that the humans, an apparently promising species, had somehow managed to elude not just the Minbari, but their own sensors as well, was again both pleasing and frustrating.

In fact, it had begun to wonder about the real purpose of the Minbari incursion into Z'ha'dum. The massive number of ships dedicated to hunting down a seemingly inferior race stretched credulity to the breaking point. And yet, despite being engaged by the automated defenses, the Minbari had left quietly after the humans disappeared. Were they interested in Z'ha'dum in the first place, or just the humans. And why did the humans merit such effort? There were far more questions now than answers. At first, the humans simply appeared to be clever, to have a stronger survival instinct, but now, the Shadow wondered if there might be more. The actions of the Minbari appeared illogical, but how could it be sure?

The final battle between the Minbari and the humans in this system also bore consideration. At first, it seemed obvious that the humans would be exterminated. But then, just as the champions of the Vorlons closed in for the kill, something inexplicable happened. Without explanation, the Minbari fighters immolated themselves. Then, their nearest ships simply exploded, without any cause that the Shadow could discern. There were signs of telepathic disturbances, but the sensors were unable to make out anything for certain. That should mean that any telepathic activities were far too weak to explain the bizarre occurrences.

The destruction of the nearest Minbari vessels had allowed the humans to get away, and then they disappeared without explanation from local hyperspace. Soon after, the Minbari and even the Vorlon watcher departed from the region. This left the Shadow with the unpleasant question of "What happened?"

If the Minbari did not come here at the behest of their Vorlon masters to attack Z'ha'dum, had they really come because of the humans? Why? What made the humans so special? Certainly, they must be special, given the disproportional amount of attention paid to them. If so, why would the Vorlons be interested in these humans? Or had they only come to act as a leash on the Minbari, to keep them from attacking Z'ha'dum directly? The Shadow decided that it must know. Other of its kind were waking from their slumber. Perhaps they might have some insight as to what made these humans so different from the other races. Risk and opportunity loomed in equal measure.

It became aware of a servant approaching, interrupting its musing. A Streib, it now recalled, that was its name, walked into the room, bowing low. "What news?" the Shadow asked, disinterestedly.

"Great one, we have managed to acquire...some intelligence. We believe we know where the humans have gone."

That grabbed the Shadow's attention. Interest and anticipation washed through it. "Very good. The humans may yet prove useful. Where are they?"

"We believe they discovered a path to the Lost Territories, Great One."

The Shadow's mind whirled with the implications and possibilities. "You have done well. Maintain vigilance, and search the system again, in case the humans have fooled you in some way. I will gather a force and enter the Lost Territories, in search of the humans."

The Streib was clearly taken aback. "But, Great One, what about the armistice agreement?"

The Shadow allowed a small portion of its displeasure to be seen and felt by the Servant, while maintaining silence. After only a moment, its knees began to shake. It hurriedly sketched a bow, offered its apologies, and all but ran from the room. That improved the Shadow's mood, a bit. "What armistice agreement?" it asked of no one in particular.
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Unknown System - The White Star liner Olympic - May, 2249

"Gellar, Sarah, being commissioned to the rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade." There was a smattering of applause, as Matt finally began to mount the stairs to the stage. The ceremony was growing tedious. There had been speeches from instructors, top academic achievers, the Commandant of Cadets, various VIPs, and even Commodore Sheridan himself. And then had come the long list of names. And even here, the process had stretched. The decision had been reached that not all of the graduates would be commissioned in as Ensigns. Given their service over the last year, some would be skipping a rank or two. Of course, those folks who might be skipping a rank might have been serving successfully as full Lieutenants or even Lieutenant Commanders on board the Midway. Of necessity, since they were now eligible to serve at any job, anywhere in the fleet, they were being reduced a rank or two from the honorary ones they had held over the last year. And some bright soul had come up with the idea to announce their new rank as part of the graduation and induction ceremony. Which, of course, meant that you couldn't just read off the name, making an already long ceremony practically interminable.

"Gerrera, Saul, being commissioned to the rank of Ensign." Matt stepped fully onto the stage. Perhaps he was just being grumpy. He himself had been required to give a speech, which had been one of the more horrifying moments of his career to date. He had spoken about lost classmates, particularly those lost in the Minbari infiltration of the Midway. He had dedicated himself to ensuring they would never be forgotten. He had read out the names of the lost, and announced that to honor their sacrifice, they would be officially graduated and commissioned post-mortem. The speech seemed to have been well received, with polite applause. Obviously, such a melancholy topic had neither deserved nor gotten the rousing cheering which had followed Sheridan's upbeat and inspiring speech about the future of the class, the fleet, and the entire human race.

And it was good that this ceremony was being held. His classmates had worked so hard, losing loved ones, keeping up with their classes, and many doing the work of fully commissioned officers. They deserved this moment of recognition and evolution, to step forward as full fledged members of Earth Force. For himself, he knew that in all likelihood he would probably receive the rank of full Lieutenant, the highest rank any graduating cadet could reasonably expect. But, secretly, he was hoping for a Lieutenant Commander slot. It had been his assigned rank up until February when he'd been promoted to Commander and given the Eratosthenes. He was betting Kathway would get a well deserved promotion, and maybe he could be her First Officer. The irony would be delicious.

"Gideon, Matthew, being commissioned to the rank of Captain." The audience, his fellow classmates, everyone went absolutely wild. People were on their feet, chanting his name. What? That can't be right, he thought bemusedly. Someone was pounding him on the back, and the Commandant of Cadets handed him something. Oh, right, his diploma. Attempting to maintain something like a composed face, he marched across the stage, saluted Commodore Sheridan, and shook his hand. The Commodore offered some form of congratulation, but afterwards Gideon would never quite be able to remember what he said. Matt then proceeded across the stage, did a sharp left face at the end, and saluted Ensign Gerrera, and incidentally the entire crowd, who had been waiting for him. Gerrera returned the salute, then did an about face and began the walk back to his seat, as Matt strode to his spot and did his own about face to await the next graduate. Only when he had been saluted by that individual, Ensign Will Gilman, and returned said salute, was he allowed to return to his own seat.

On the way there, he glanced towards the VIP seating section. Given how few of the graduates had any civilian friends or family in the fleet, it had been decided that any military or civilian personnel with any connections to the graduates at all would be invited to come. The response had been overwhelming, and despite using one of the largest auditoriums in the fleet, it was standing room only. But, rank had its privileges, and an area had been set aside for high ranking military and civilian officers. He was pleased, and a little surprised, to see Elizabeth there. She made eye contact with him, and gave him a smile and a small nod. It was the first smile he had seen on her face since the incident. Perhaps everything really would be alright.

He sat, and waited as the rest of the class received their diplomas and ranks. Finally, Captain Jeffrey Sinclair stepped up to the podium. "Graduates of the Earth Force Academy Class of 2249, please stand and raise your right hand. After I read the Oath of Office, signify your acceptance by saying 'I do.' So, do each of you, having been inducted into the Earth Alliance Earth Force, do solemnly swear, that you will support and defend the Earth Alliance Constitution, and the government and people of the Earth Alliance, against all enemies, alien and human. That you will bear true faith and allegiance to the same. That you take this obligation freely, without any reservation or evasion, and that you will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which you are about to enter, so help you God."

"I do!" Gideon and the rest of his class thundered.

"Graduates, go forth and be leaders, and warriors for humanity. Class of 2249, dismissed!" As his cap and a thousand others flew into the air, Captain Matthew Gideon knew that whatever the future brought, this fleet and these people would meet it head on.
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From the personal log of Captain Jeffrey Sinclair

It was the dawn of a new age for Mankind. The end of the Earth-Minbari war. Project Exodus was a nightmare given form. It's goal, to take the best and brightest of the human race and snatch them away from the doom which would surely befall the rest of the species. It was a motley fleet, a new home for soldiers, scientists, refugees and explorers.

It's a dangerous undertaking, but it's our last best hope for survival.

Over two and a half million humans, wrapped in fragile shells of metal...all alone in the night.

The End of Part 1