A Universe of Change

By Candlelight Defiance

Chapter 18

The Minbari seat of Power

Valen'tha

Satai Coplann stood off at the side of the Alyt Kanyunn, intently watching the holographic imager, showing the surrounding battle space occupied by the Minbari fleet, and the Sinhindrea armada. The armada remained stationary, waiting for the Minbari fleet to attack and defend their world. They were about to get their wish. Not just yet, but soon. Sooner than they anticipated.

The aliens who defiled his world had to suspect something. They knew the Minbari could not afford to wait much longer. Patience wasn't their way. Nevertheless, there was a method to this madness.

While the Minbari waited, Sinhindrea troop and supply transports continually ferried back and forth to the home planet from the massive carriers dominating Minbar's orbit. What little information the Grey Council received from the planet's surface from people desperately fighting the relentless enemy and begging for support, broke his heart. Long range scans revealed the devastation being heaped upon the world of his birth. His people, the warrior Castes, with all their power were helpless to fight back.

The enemy plasma bombs turned a mountain range on either side of the planet into slag. On Minbar's surface, two large scars created by weapons fire from Sinhindrea warships, located on either side of the planet, were changing. Those changes were large enough for the space-borne Minbari to observe with their long-ranged scans. In both cases, two of Minbar's majestic mountain ranges no longer existed. In their places were two immense, black-colored cities, now grown large enough to cover dozens of square kilometers. They were spreading and would soon be large enough to cover most of the mountain ranges they had infiltrated.

Tens of billions of what were assumed to be nanites, were transforming the surrounding land and building those dark cities at a most terrifying rate and so far, no one was able to stop it or get close enough to attempt to halt the process.

None of this information would have been available if it wasn't for Satai Delenn, who continually transmitted vital information on a frequency that the aliens were as of yet unaware of. Bless her for delivering a precious few of the communication devices not interfered with by Sinhindrea ECM. Starfleeter badges had the range to reach the Minbari fleet from the planet's surface.

Coplann, along with others, had scoffed at the idea of having to depend on Federation technology on the Grey council's ship, but now he was less dismissive and indeed pleased to have them.

The warrior caste, especially some of the more aggressive sects, weren't pleased with the Federation. They were too competitive and had forced the Minbari into playing catch-up when it came to technology and now, influence. It wasn't their fault. But the Minbari had fallen behind and hadn't even known it in the greater scheme of things. Coplann blamed the Vorlons, and now, when they should have been more advanced, they were behind, fighting an enemy who walked the stars like gods.

The comms now allowed the Minbari fleet to confirm the losses of a dozen, or more population centers, who were now little more than ashes. Most were destroyed during the plasma explosions that generated the energy needed for the construction nanites to build the alien cities. Tens of thousands of people died when those nanites broke down and transported every bit of material back to the construction site. Nothing living in the affected area survived. The areas around the dark cities ceased activity for a while. However, the plague began spreading once more. Everything it touched died and was broken down into its component parts.

On Minbar, there existed one subspace communications transmitter strong enough to reach the Babylon Five station. The transmitter was given as a gift for the Minbari scientists to study and back-engineer for their own use. It was taken apart by one of the foremost scientist of Minbar for study, and despite vigorous protests from the savant, it was put back together in time to establish comms with the rest of the galaxy. The rest of the fleet had to use fast moving Nial fighters as carriers in order to receive and issue orders. It was a crippling problem, but the flyers were quickly becoming efficient in their duties. The Starfleet comms were used by the commanders on the planet to keep the lines of communications opened. Still, it was disturbing that they had to use human-built devices to communicate with their own people.

No, he silently corrected. Those devices were federation made, not simply human designed. Coplann found himself irritated that he had to rely on those devices as some of the old prejudices and fears tried to take over. Like satai Neroon once was, he was wary of a young race that dared to challenge Minbari supremacy in all things. He knew better, but it was difficult to reconcile, even after all of the catastrophic challenges facing them.

Viciously, he crushed those thoughts back. Alyt Menroi was correct. He and the Grey council should have spoken to Picard and the others directly. Nevertheless, it was going to be a problem if they survived. For now, they were forced to work with one another. Again he grimaced, as he noticed his overall attitude threatened to dominate his mind. If he was having difficulties with everything he knew, he could imagine how the warriors felt.

Concerned, he wasn't sure if what he felt was natural Minbari anger, Vorlon genetic tampering, or Sinhindrea telepathic interference. Whatever the culprit, he knew he and his people had to overcome it if they were to survive.


Like all Minbari, the need to destroy these invaders burned within Coplann's soul. But he had to wait to issue the orders he so wanted to give, or his people would be slaughtered and thereby doom his world to the predations of those abominations.

The eaters of the dead. That was what the humans called the Great Enemy. It was a fairly accurate description. From what was known, these creatures consumed intelligent beings for food, or they would starve themselves and resort to cannibalism. This made him curious as to how they survived on their ships. The possibilities made him shiver. The human phrase seemed outlandish, but it was frighteningly accurate and had caught on throughout the various species who heard it. He barely trusted anything that the Vorlons said lately, but Ambassador Kosh and the Human Ambassador Guinan, named 'the wise one', were respected by the Minbari who met her and her word was rarely challenged. Her reputation frightened him, and when he got the chance, he would personally speak to her, as Alyt Menroi had suggested.

The creatures consumed the dead and the living. It made little difference. The living who were unfortunate enough to be the Sinhindrea captives no doubt wished they'd died before enduring such a fate. How many Minbari had suffered such horrible ends? The thought enraged him. These aliens had a mindset completely different from any other sentient species he knew of. They acted like insects or lower life forms who didn't understand and didn't care about the concerns of others. That made this a war of survival, nothing more. Nothing less.

A senior member of the Star Riders bowed respectfully. "The time has arrived, satai."

Coplann bowed in return. "You may begin."

With those words, the first step of the liberation of Minbar began. For the first time, he silently prayed that some of those who were about to give their lives would survive long enough to complete their mission. Coplann then found himself praying for those same warriors to return alive. There were already too many of his people dead. The irony that the Federationists he wanted to dismiss were the same people that carried the seeds of the Minbari's salvation.

He fought not to despise the same people that had produced the cure for Minbari sterilization, a problem that was now known to cause by the uncaring Vorlons, who must have known of the long-term effects but chose to do nothing about it. And with a jolt, his mind cleared. He could feel the Sinhindrea's influencing him. Angered now, he focused that rage against the enemy, not against his allies. He would not repeat Shakiri's mistakes.

Kempec's Honor

The Klingon captain wanted to yell. He wanted to scream in joy. This was the reason why his people loved war so much. It made them feel alive. But with that joy came responsibility he gladly accepted. His instructors taught him well. Sisko, G'Kar, and Menroi, give him, to allow him to control himself. He was becoming a patient Klingon. Smiling, he knew his mentor, Captain Kagth, would approve. That Captain inspired him. Promises were made, and he intended to hold those promises and expectations close.

N'Garan, the newly minted Narn sensor officer, called for his attention. "The Minbari are moving," he said in battle language. Koral grunted his acknowledgement. The old K'vort had a mixed crew now, and it never crossed his mind. It felt natural, and he was beginning to fully understand why his mentor felt comfortable about it on his own ship. It represented a new direction for the Klingon people. He embraced it and found it-acceptable.

"Thirty-seven vessels in orbit," N'Garan softly announced to the bridge crew. "Eleven transports, four destroyer class," he frowned. "The enemy is arrogant," he noted. "There are no planetary defense systems remaining. The Minbari navy is not coming to their world's defense."

The captain nodded. "They are baiting the Minbari, inviting them to attack. Inviting them to a slaughter," Kora smiled. "How many fighters?"

"Four on patrol."

The captain was mildly shocked. "Only four." The entire Sinhindrea fleet was facing the Minbari war machine, and the Minbari hadn't attacked yet.

Dozens of Minbari warships of every description were arriving every hour in support of an already impressive fleet. The Sins were waiting for them to engage in a major push, supremely confident that they would butcher the entire Minbari fleet. The planet would them be completely helpless and with the removal of the fleet, the rest of the races would follow.

The war would be glorious, but a lost cause. He didn't approve of glorious battles for lost causes, not anymore. These creatures were in for a nasty awakening.

A squadron of fifty Minbari Sharlins and Tinashi-class ships were prepared to engage two medium destroyers patrolling the edge of the Sinhindrea fleet. It was so obviously a trap that a child before the age of inclusion could see it. Silently, the Klingon captain saluted the warriors who went to their deaths to save their people. It was honorable. It was right.

This had to be done quickly. There would be no second chances. "Begin," he hissed in battle language.

The cloaked ship slipped into orbit. The Sinhindrea sensors never detected the ship, and the telepaths hadn't sensed anything because they weren't expecting such an attack.

Several middle-aged commanders would be punished with death for their lapses.

XXX

Thirty-five Tinashi supported by fifteen Sharlins, at full burn, attacked two one-kilometer sized Sinhindrea destroyer designates, performing picket duty at the edge of their war fleet. The Sinhindrea had no fear of the Minbari vessels, but they were wary of them. The loss of ships to these meat creatures was higher than anticipated and the loss of any ship hurt the colony. The colony wasn't strong enough to resist destruction. The meat creatures needed eliminating as soon as possible. It was one of the reasons why they were here. When the Minbari were neutralized, the other protein units in this sector of space would fall. When they were weakened sufficiently, then the Sinhindrea would focus on the primitive but deadly space station and cleanse the entire solar system.

The Sinhindrea knew the attack was coming, their shields were at full power, their globes glowing bright blue, almost white. Isolated, they were an inviting target. The Minbari had attacked isolated vessels before. This time would be no different. The middle adult commander preferred to use its telepathic capabilities to track enemy movement.

Devoting two of its brain lobes at the incoming sMinbp'kU. Telepathic flashes from the prey food animals indicated determination to destroy her ship, but there was also the mental scent of fear and acceptance of their fate. She found that acceptable. Their fear would cause them to fight harder and become careless. When the trap was sprung, they would realize the danger too late. Their passion would lead them to destruction. Thousands of warriors from thousands of other worlds fell into that same trap. The Minbari would be no different.

As it should be.

The main control chamber was bright with multi-colored lights penetrating the thick viscous fluid acting as the Sinhindrea's preferred environment and nutrient medium. The aquatic based creatures communicated by several methods, primarily using luminance to communicate. Many of the younger nymphs weren't old enough to use telepathy efficiently. But it wasn't important. The chromatophores were efficient. Instrumentation served its purpose well. Vocal communication was effective. The female knew that vocal noises from a mature member of her kind were some of the loudest known in their old galaxy. But it wasn't required now. Telepathy and light transmission were sufficient on the ship for issuing commands and instructions.

Being female, the other younger ones of her kind would follow her orders explicitly. She had decided to choose to become female after her last molt and in a few months, she would accept males so that she could breed. The younger Sinhindrea chose their sex when they reached maturity. This took time and during the final molt, the Sinhindrea had to seclude themselves because their shells were soft and others found newly matured adults particularly delectable. She had sequestered herself for two weeks until her outer shell was hard enough to withstand attacks by more mature adults. It was a dangerous time, but the nutrient fluid was an aid to help in survival. To her people, survival of the species was everything. Any other creatures able to resist were deemed the enemy to be consumed or destroyed. The need to dominate, to survive, was hard-wired into their genes.

In known Sinhindrea history, less than eight species were ever able to properly communicate with her kind and they were all rendered extinct. They dared threaten the colonies and were consumed with diligence. The sVorlbp'kU tried to communicate with her species using their primitive abilities, but like so many others, they were ignored.


Ten jump points opened twelve thousand kilometers near the twin Sinhindrea picket ships, already turning to face the enemy. The jump points disgorged a total of 50 Minbari warships, which began firing at the closest Sinhindrea destroyer. its shields glowed brightly, almost blindingly so, as it turned to face its attackers. The attack had been expected. However, the viciousness of the strike was unanticipated. The pattern of the Minbari usually follows a particular doctrine. Those ships that into two or more and would attack both pickets, in to destroy them both simultaneously, while their fighters engaged their Sinhindrea counterparts. But in this maneuver, the Minbari were attempting something new.

This type of attack was different and, therefore, unanticipated. Minbari Sharlins and Tinashi struck out only on the foremost ship, with almost one hundred neutron and particle beams supplemented with close to two hundred nuclear missiles. The destroyer's energy shields glowed dramatically, rippling violently as it tried to disperse the tremendous amounts of energy and heat as well as kinetic energy that assaulted it. Even as it turned to face his enemies and began its own firing sequence, its shield failed and the huge energy globe was subjected to the full fury of Minbari firepower. Three seconds later, the globe cracked, and the unleashed energy within detonated, imploding upon itself, destroying the ship and everything around it. Several Sinhindrea fighters were caught in the backwash of the energies released and were immediately destroyed, their shields unable to protect them from destruction.

The second destroyer was already responding with his beam energy weapon. It lashed out with his main weapon, cutting Tinashi and Sharlins apart before they could even respond. Tumbling in the deaths of space, the three ships slowly disintegrated as the destructive energy weapon of the Sinhindrea took hold and turned ships and crew into the molecular components.

Undeterred, and stressing their ships and crews, the surviving Minbari warships turned and vectored back towards the enemy, and struck out against the second destroyer, using the same technique as they had used on the previous picket. The second destroyer's shield held as his commander devoted all remaining power to protect her ship. The commander knew all she had to do was to survive the next ten to fifteen seconds before help would arrive. When that assistance arrived, the Minbari-stain would be wiped out to the last ship. Infuriated, they would then attack in greater numbers and thereby incur losses. The She would use her weapons to increase their losses until help arrived. It was a waste, having so much protein lost. It was, however, necessary for the greater feast to come.

She waited patiently as the countdown continued. The protein units continued their attack, unknowingly being prepared for the retaliatory strike by her clan mates. But the Minbari had other plans. A dozen jump points were generated, and the surviving Minbari warships evacuated the area as quickly as they had arrived. The battle lasted only a couple of minutes, but had served its purpose.

It was well known that Sinhindrea warships were designed to fight the enemies facing forward. They had a very poor turn radius, and relied on the shields to protect the sides and rear. In many instances, this worked, but it was a glaring weakness as well, something they found out to their detriment. The attack on Earth and Babylon Five revealed this glaring weakness. However, the Sinhindrea also anticipated that the Minbari would not retreat. The species seemed committed to fight to the death once engaged.

This anticipated action hadn't come about this time, as the commander of the destroyer shrieked its rage. It had failed in his duty to anticipate this unforeseen tactic, and the fleet leader would punish it with death for not having done so. The punishment would be memorable for as long as she lived. Death was simply death. But the physical and mental punishment the creature would experience was something that it would not be looking forward to. But it was the Sinhindrea's way.

By the end of the strike, thirty-seven of the fifty Minbari warships survived the experience. This was the diversion promised by Satai Coplann to John Sheridan. Now it was up to the Klingons to complete their mission.

INTERLUDE

Earth, Year: June 17th, 2394

Federation space

Five days before the transit

If you desire peace, then be prepared for war.

Present Adama once again felt the weight of the ages pressing down on him. Those words preyed on his mind over and over, and he was a weary soul. But life seemed to want another pound of flesh from him. In truth, he was just feeling sorry for himself because a part of him gloried in the responsibility. To be able to help and take part in protecting those he loved and those who couldn't help themselves made him feel alive.

But the way life conspired to pull him into these messes challenged him, and its price was high.

His adapted daughter and granddaughter wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. What they'd done was specifically against his wishes, although he understood their reasons. Both of them were effectively Organian levels or perhaps John's people's level of power. But they were both in almost every way that counted children.

These beloved young women were the first and second-generation children of the entity known as V'ger. Both of them would argue the point and call themselves progeny instead of children. They didn't like the word 'child'. It made them sound immature. Adama only smiled and never chose the correct them. Illia and her daughter, Suchita, had adopted him. Adama was the first human they had any real contact with, and they bonded with him as if he were their true father. They were connected to him and were as close to him as Apollo, his wife Sheba, and Athena.

But like children everywhere who loved their parents, they didn't listen. He considered what they had done unfair. He was satisfied with his life. His journey was almost complete, and death was something he didn't fear. He wasn't Cain. That man was overjoyed at the second chance at life. Adama wasn't upset, but he did fell vaguely kidnapped into doing this.

Admiral Picard merely smiled at his oh so terrible dilemma. "I've found that everything we hope for rarely comes out the way we want it." He sighed slowly. "When the Romulan planetary system was decimated during the Cylon conflict and Andoria was threatened with the same fate, I thought that things were at their worst. We did not know at the time, that this war was just a game, once created by an elder entity for his own amusement." He said slowly as he took a sip of his Earl grey tea. The steaming cup of hot liquid felt delightful going down his throat. "According to Q and… and John," he added, "the Cylons were at best a minor nuisance."

"Count Iblis," Adama spat. "Imprisoned for an eternity, whatever that means." He continued. "The Elders placed him in a most fitting prison."

"Q seemed pleased," Picard added drily.

Of course, he was pleased as he participated in designing the punishment. "We have no laws concerning entities. The Council of Elders have dealt with their own. Their decisions, whether we approve of it or not, are theirs to dispense."

Adama nodded. He hated the creature with a passion. However, his personal feelings didn't matter. The elders hated killing one of their own, but his punishment was fitting. Being stuck in a quantum closet, a fixed, light-gray featureless room with one chair. Iblis sat there paralyzed for eternity, sentenced to staring at a large portrait of President Adama and Q. Q told him that the paintings might wink at him every hundred years or so until he died in about four thousand years, but Iblis would never be sure if the portraits changed or not. He could remain alone with his hatred until he ceased to exist.

Both Adama and Picard could imagine the hatred and insanity of such a creature forced to live with nothing but a taunting picture Q mocking him eternally, for company. The monster who had it all, wanted to be loved by those he considered less than dirt now suffered. He wanted the freedom to do what he wanted, but was now forced to do nothing. It was fitting for an ancient being with the blood of uncounted billions on his hands.

"It was unexpected that the Romulan sun would flare and take what was left of their empire. I tried to save those who were left."

Adama saw the heartbreak and guilt weighing on the man's shoulders. Everyone took too long to really help. There weren't enough ships to save everyone. The surviving Romulan leadership concentrated on those who they deemed useful to be saved first and proceeded to ignore the rest. The evacuation organization was haphazard at best. It was discovered later that the Romulans were partly responsible for the loss of so many of their surviving population. They were the ones responsible for reprogramming the synthetics who destroyed Utopia Planitia and Mars, which still burned after more than ten years.

The Federation didn't have enough ships to evacuate the surviving population as they had promised. The loss of so much from the war as well as the loss of Mars had terrified the Federation. And both men considered this to be the worst possible attitude to have at this time.

Exploration was being curtailed. The Federation was closing in on itself and if what Q was saying was true, and neither man doubted it for a moment, the Federation needed to regrow its spine and stand.

And Picard strongly suspected the Federation of dragging its feet when it came to helping the remains of the Romulan people. People had long memories, and the Romulans hadn't endeared themselves to anyone for almost three hundred years. It wasn't his fault Starfleet pulled his refugee fleet out from under him, but he felt responsible. In protest, he retired.

So much had happened to him since then.

The Dominion-Borg assault was another blow that hurt Starfleet and proved that Starfleet had to rebuild quickly and regain its strength if it were to survive. Another war was coming and those in the Dominion leadership who stuck to the treaty were already beginning to encounter the first skirmishes of one of the deadliest enemies this part of the galaxy had ever seen.

The moment passed and with the skill of a seasoned diplomat, Picard changed the subject.

"In five days, you will embark on a mission to another universe." Picard smiled at the man. "How I envy you. To have a chance to explore is something that I still feel the urge to indulge in. Being an admiral, or," he added, "a president, does remind us that the number of days are fewer than those we can look forward to in the future. I have been fortunate in my life, and as with all of us, I have my regrets," he laughed. "I am not dead yet," he smirked. "You could say that I have been given a second chance at life. But time reminds us all that it's not to be wasted. I feel there are a few things left for me to accomplish."

Adama understood. "Time is precious," he confirmed. "This condition," he muttered, "is not what I wanted. I should have suspected they would pull something like this."

"They are your grand and great grandchildren in every sense that matters. They adopted you," Picard said. "And I suspect that they had some additional help." Picard smiled at the irritated-looking Colonial.

Adama looked angry and a little embarrassed. "I understand that. Jonn explained it to me, after the fact, of course."

"Not many of us get a second chance," said Picard, pointedly ignoring his own second chance. "Admiral Cain is reveling in it, as he should. As should you."

"The transporter incident," and he laughed at the very idea that it was an accident, "de-aged me sixty years. It wasn't for my benefit, but for the needs of the mission. I can't complain about my situation. Ilia and Suchita are happy. Athena, Apollo, and the grandchildren are ecstatic. My wife isn't so pleased."

His mood shifted. "I think I will have a talk with John and perhaps Q, to see if we can rectify this situation. I know those two were involved up to their non-existent necks."

"Q is… difficult, but he wants this mission to succeed. The fact that he is sending you and a care package indicates just how serious the situation is."

"I agree with you. But I also hate that the Galactica is being used for this mission. I am usurping Apollo's command."

"I suspect he won't mind," Picard announced dryly. "This mission was critical, and it is the price we paid for Q's help." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Although I suspect he would have done it, anyway. I am somewhat surprised he didn't ask for Admiral Janeway for this mission." He frowned in thought. "Those two had a relationship I never really understood. He's a nuisance at best and she just acknowledged him as a 'pest'."

Adama just laughed. Picard refused to see the obvious. "I will live win the price. Cain's Wildfire mission will leave at the same time as I will. The Galactica and Pegasus. Two hundred and fifty years and still protecting our people."

"Sometimes, I wish the Enterprises lasted longer," he mused. "But I can see the benefits of the upgrades. But I do miss the carpets on the bridge. Ah, the good old days." They both toasted one another. Picard's mood changed; "I have a packaged I would like for you to deliver to my counterpart." Handing the padd to the younger-looking, but older man, he said quietly: "I don't want him to be alone. Knowing myself," he smirked. "I think he needs this. Perhaps the experiences I have gone through will help him on his own personal journey."

Admiral Picard's smile was exceptionally dry. His experiences with Q weren't as bad as he strived to pretend they were. Pest he was, but his friendship couldn't be denied. Not now, with all that had happened.

With a sense of wonder, the admiral took everything that had happened in the last few years. The Federation had changed. Starfleet was changing, becoming more of a military institution, and he couldn't muster enough outrage to really lament those changes. The thoughts concerning interference with another universe didn't affect him as it would have once done. Starfleet's law violating the destiny of other reality seemed outdated to him now. The non-interference rule was broken on a seemingly constant basis. President Adama's people and the altered Cylons were from a different reality, sent by the Delray people, and Iblis was a case in point. Q changing his very reality was another example. Non-interference was a rule, or perhaps a law, that needed to be observed and respected. But outside forces were changing everything around them and reality was crossing over at an unknown rate. The laws were important, but higher forces were at work and the federation had to respect that.


That was five days ago. Admiral Cain and his Wildfire squadron had begun their long-ranged, recon in force, headed for a portion of the gamma quadrant by way of the Bajoran wormhole. They were going to assess Sinhindrea capability and strength. The aliens were moving methodically towards Dominion space, having wiped out everything in their path so far. Thousands of ships were fleeing into Dominion territory. The Dominion was gearing up for war. Already there were skirmishes with the empire of the Ciona Imperixe. Those parasites were running from the Sinhindrea hordes, directly into their territory. The Founders dared not trust the Imperixe, and there were several battles between them.

No one in Starfleet or the Federation who participated in the war trusted the Dominion, but they had honored the treaty, as far as anyone could determine. Section 31 and their clandestine operations and organizations were extremely diligent when it came to the Changelings. However, they had missed the infiltration of the rogue Changelings and almost brought the Federation to its knees. That was a year ago, and Starfleet was building fast and furiously. But it would take time. The Borg remnants were suspiciously quiet, and the two free Borg factions, which included the newest one with Borg Queen Agnus, were upholding their parts of their own treaty.

The anomaly that appeared in Federation space was a worry shared by everyone. If it hadn't been for Agnus, a portion of the most populated area in the heart of the Federation would have been irradiated, and contaminated. The aperture was still open, and all evidence pointed to a Sinhindrea invasion. That suspicion was confirmed by the unique radiation profile that emanated from the aperture, and the Council of Elders suggesting that the younger races might want to prepare for war. They never interfered, and the fact that they openly warned the local races made everyone stand up and take notice.

This coming war was directly connected to his mission. According to both John and Q, it was actually fascinating. Q was making himself available. John, he could understand, but Q was an enigma. The entity seemed to disdain the council of Elders as being too primitive when compared to his people. But Adama suspected his attitude was more of a façade than anything else. He seemed truly concerned about the importance of this mission. So was John.

Six months of preparation came to this moment. The Minbari and the small squadron, and the Ambassador of the aptly named Soul Hunter, were ready. The Colonial Republic's own contribution to the care package mission was floating less than a kilometer distant. The three and a half long kilometer pocket battlestar was filled to the brim with everything the Colonial Republic could think of that could support the isolated Starfleet crews might need. The ship was the latest incarnation of the famed warship class, built with colonial and Federation knowhow. The ship had the more stable pulse slip stream drive, which differed from the newer Fed-based slip stream. Federation scientists were still developing several variations of the FTL drives, some being better than others as they were continuing to be developed. The First generation slip stream was a landmark achievement, but for stability, the pulse drive was further along and easier to work with and maintain.

The transplanted crews would have an easier time working with this version. Their science was separating from this reality and what they came up with, would certainly be different and unique for A small group of Klingons from an isolated colony deep within the Empire, volunteered to join their displaced brethren, mostly farmers, civilians and some of their scientists, and engineers, and soldiers, who wanted to make a fresh start. These Klingons were going to come as a shock to both sides when they met. These isolated Klingons were the few that embraced their new genetically engineered changes. The unintentional physical changes weren't rejected by the small Klingon outpost. It made them outcastes, but they didn't care. The Empire was furious, but the small group resisted. The group looked nothing like the Klingon ideal.

Naturally, none of them knew of the Temporal Cold war and the alterations of the Klingons by those who wanted to change them into a more aggressive species. To challenge the fledgling Federation. None of them knew what the Klingons looked like before the temporal changes happened.

The man smiled. Going to another reality just to make a fresh start. The need to explore, to spread and discover new frontiers, that he understood. In the final analysis, hadn't his people done the same thing? He knew the answer. The Klingon Empire was still an empire and although improving, they still had a long way to go. The Cylon-Borg conflict had destroyed billions of people, and smaller colonies and independents suffered more than most. Klingon colonies at the edge of the empire suffered horrendous casualties, the most during the life of the Empire.

But for the Klingon colony in question, being isolated had benefits. The genetic virus that changed them from what they were into what they became. The empire had experimented, trying to correct the genetic abnormalities, and the results were more outlandish with each failure. It was little wonder that the colony wanted to remain isolated and left alone. What they are now were pariahs, looking more human than the accepted idea of what Klingons looked like.

President Adama looked aghast at the variation of their people. Some were so changed that it was almost impossible to recognize them as Klingons, while others barely shared the so-called standard Klingon phenotype. The foolish experiment and releasing of the genophage had almost crippled their people. It was unstable and only just now, after almost two hundred years, appeared to be beginning to stabilize. Unfortunately, the klingons hadn't moved past racial prejudice. Like humanity and so many others, they had a long way to go. He accepted their petition, and they were glad to come.

XXX

The Battlestar Galactica, his old beloved war dog, was upgraded for the third time, and at first look, barely looked like herself. The engines were more tapered, a lot more, and the weapons were new and improved. There were still the old pulsar laser weapons for point defense, but even those were updated and supplemented with type ten pulse phasers. Heavier weapons included type twelve and type fourteen dual pulse cannons. Light speed drive, which was in reality a very long-ranged trans warp drive, was swapped out for the latest pulse slip stream drive.

The Colonial trans warp was fantastic, if limited FTL. The drive could literally take you halfway through the galaxy, but nowhere in between. The Colonial, Fed, and klingon scientists were working on it. Adama was glad. The feds had their science and the Colonials, theirs. He had no interest in abandoning his people's own accomplishments. Working together was of benefit for everyone.

"The Adama unit is still displeased," Ilia said, smiling, as she interrupted his train of thought. She never used that designation with him anymore. The child of V'ger had adapted to her Human-Deltan heritage. The thirty-something appeared neutral, but Adama knew she was ecstatic just being around him and joining him on this mission. She was organic but also machine, blended so completely that no one knew where machine ended and the organic began. Her daughter was even more 'completely blended' than her mother. They were so much like the others, yet so different. "I am pleased. You will continue and we will have our father."

Adama merely lifted his eyebrow. There was no arguing with either of them. The transporter incident that de-aged him was as perfect a plan as anything he'd ever seen. He knew Jon and Q were in on it, as well as his son and his daughter Athena. His whole family was in on it. Adriana chose not to warn him, and that spoke volumes. The crystalline lifeform 'wanted' him to go on this mission, something he found astounding. That star entity wanted to accompany this mission simply to commune with others of its kind and it was willing to help a small insignificant being like himself and that was humbling in ways he could never express.

"I am pleased to have more time with you, the man told the two young women," and he was. "But I wasn't given a choice. As you know, free choice is important," he reminded them both.

Ilia glowed slightly while Suchita blushed. They both remembered what the loss of free choice could have meant for them both. The Borg queen would have taken that away from them, while the Cylon leader Spectre would have dissected them for the greater glory of the cylon Empire. And behind it all was the entity, Iblis. As Athena and commander Sheba said countless times, may he rot in his cell for eternity, which in this case was about another four thousand years.

"I am sorry we deceived you," Suchita said. "But I want my grandfather to continue."

"I am not sorry," Ilia said in her more mechanical sounding voice. She looked so defiant, but anyone looking at her could see she was an open book. She wasn't able to hide her feelings like her daughter.

There was a flash of light, and both Q and John appeared. "Enough of this bonding Q huffed. Adama noticed his eyes betrayed him. Humanity had affected him more than he knew.

"You're ready. The Feds are ready. The Minbari are itching to leave, and even that old coot," he added, meaning the Soul Hunter ambassador, "is ready. It's time to go."

Adama bowed. "Can you point us in a direction in which to start our journey?" asked the former president. "Or are we to use the same map to get to the transition point as before?"

Q almost smirked. "Your subtle attempt at sarcasm amuses me." He pointed in some vague direction and said, "that way." Then the entity relented. "The coordinates have been inputted into your navigational computers. Your journey will begin the same as Kate's did." A small flash occurred and Adama saw several pads appear on his desk. "Those are instructions that I suggest you read on your journey. I will make sure that you do not encounter the Sinhindrea at your exit point." He smiled viciously. "Those ticks are still scanning the area, trying to find the opening. When you emerge, you won't be anywhere near there. For some reason, it hasn't occurred to them that the doorway isn't fixed. All those lobes, and they hadn't figured that out yet."

John simply looked exasperated at Q's antics. "The Sinhindrea will discover your presence there soon enough, but they are secondary to your mission. The federation care package will help with the stability of the Starfleet personnel there and give them a chance to begin without any significant help from the local races. Please be careful. The mission, your mission, will change the course of the war with the Sinhindrea there. The Temporal war caused a lot of damage which is still being addressed, so please be diligent and choose your course of actions wisely. The Preservers, the Council of Elders, and even the Q, have sanctioned this mission and we will give you assistance if needed."

"But not too much," Q added. "Oh and say hello to that Picard. For me. He's a lot stiffer than my Picard, but we could have had so much fun together." Then his face scrunched up. "Give this message to the Guinan there from her counterpart here." He muttered a second later. "I hate being a delivery boy for that creature. It's undignified."

He hated doing this, but he had no intention of not doing it. After all, it was he and Quinn who started this mess. When they chose to save the two sets of unrealized potentials in the first place. He hated feeling guilty. It galled him. It made him feel old.

"One last thing," said John gently. "This mission and your return are still considered a First contact with the Preservers. You are, in essence, still, dipping your toes into the ocean, metaphorically speaking. Your second contact will be in about two hundred years, so don't worry about the things you will see. It's not for your generation. It is for your grandchildren to begin to discover. For the Preservers, it's the way it's always been done. Small steps."

Adama digested the words, as did the mother and daughter.

"We will protect Adama and the others," Ilia promised as her daughter nodded in total agreement.

"No," both Q and the Delfray entities said simultaneously. "We expect you to enjoy yourself and learn from the experience. Sit back, observe, and learn. "

"

"You do have my permission to cause a bit of chaos if you want," smirked Q. "If you see any Vorlons, tell them god says hello."

"Don't break too many hearts," smiled John, pointing at the two women.

"But if you do, do a good job," added Q with the hugest smile anyone had ever seen on his face.

"Adama," John said. "Remember, when you return, there is one more mission I would like for you to perform. I promise you, you will it find quite enlightening and fulfilling, if somewhat difficult." John only smiled at his own cryptic statement, while being amused by Adama's questioning look.

Q jumped back in. "Now, what was it that Jean-Luc always said? On yes. Engage."

A few moments later, the small cluster of ships left Mars orbit and almost immediately jumped into the transit way. In twenty-seven days (and thirteen and a half years later), they would arrive at their destination.

Next: Finally, the Minbari Sinhinfrea Earth Alliance ground war starts.