NYPinTA's Fan Fic and Other Things

Aaron Sorkin's "West Wing" Obama crossover fic. (Or politcal commentary. Whatever.)

2008-09-21T11:44:00.001-07:00

Seeking a President Who Gives Goose Bumps? So’s Obama.

By MAUREEN DOWD
Published: September 20, 2008

Now that he’s finally fired up on the soup-line economy, Barack Obama knows he can’t fade out again. He was eager to talk privately to a Democratic ex-president who could offer more fatherly wisdom — not to mention a surreptitious smoke — and less fraternal rivalry. I called the “West Wing” creator Aaron Sorkin (yes, truly) to get a read-out of the meeting. This is what he wrote and sent me:

BARACK OBAMA knocks on the front door of a 300-year-old New Hampshire farmhouse while his Secret Service detail waits in the driveway. The door opens and OBAMA is standing face to face with former President JED BARTLET.

BARTLET Senator.

OBAMA Mr. President.

BARTLET You seem startled.

OBAMA I didn’t expect you to answer the door yourself.

BARTLET I didn’t expect you to be getting beat by John McCain and a Lancôme rep who thinks “The Flintstones” was based on a true story, so let’s call it even.

OBAMA Yes, sir.

BARTLET Come on in.

BARTLET leads OBAMA into his study.

BARTLET That was a hell of a convention.

OBAMA Thank you, I was proud of it.

BARTLET I meant the Republicans. The Us versus Them-a-thon. As a Democrat I was surprised to learn that I don’t like small towns, God, people with jobs or America. I’ve been a little out of touch but is there a mandate that the vice president be skilled at field dressing a moose —

OBAMA Look —

BARTLET — and selling Air Force Two on eBay?

OBAMA Joke all you want, Mr. President, but it worked.

BARTLET Imagine my surprise. What can I do for you, kid?

OBAMA I’m interested in your advice.

BARTLET I can’t give it to you.

OBAMA Why not?

BARTLET I’m supporting McCain.

OBAMA Why?

BARTLET He’s promised to eradicate evil and that was always on my “to do” list.

OBAMA O.K. —

BARTLET And he’s surrounded himself, I think, with the best possible team to get us out of an economic crisis. Why, Sarah Palin just said Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac had “gotten too big and too expensive to the taxpayers.” Can you spot the error in that statement?

OBAMA Yes, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac aren’t funded by taxpayers.

BARTLET Well, at least they are now. Kind of reminds you of the time Bush said that Social Security wasn’t a government program. He was only off by a little — Social Security is the largest government program.

OBAMA I appreciate your sense of humor, sir, but I really could use your advice.

BARTLET Well, it seems to me your problem is a lot like the problem I had twice.

OBAMA Which was?

BARTLET A huge number of Americans thought I thought I was superior to them.

OBAMA And?

BARTLET I was.

OBAMA I mean, how did you overcome that?

BARTLET I won’t lie to you, being fictional was a big advantage.

OBAMA What do you mean?

BARTLET I’m a fictional president. You’re dreaming right now, Senator.

OBAMA I’m asleep?

BARTLET Yes, and you’re losing a ton of white women.

OBAMA Yes, sir.

BARTLET I mean tons.

OBAMA I understand.

BARTLET I didn’t even think there were that many white women.

OBAMA I see the numbers, sir. What do they want from me?

BARTLET I’ve been married to a white woman for 40 years and I still don’t know what she wants from me.

OBAMA How did you do it?

BARTLET Well, I say I’m sorry a lot.

OBAMA I don’t mean your marriage, sir. I mean how did you get America on your side?

BARTLET There again, I didn’t have to be president of America, I just had to be president of the people who watched “The West Wing.”

OBAMA That would make it easier.

BARTLET You’d do very well on NBC. Thursday nights in the old “ER” time slot with “30 Rock” as your lead-in, you’d get seven, seven-five in the demo with a 20, 22 share — you’d be selling $450,000 minutes.

OBAMA What the hell does that mean?

BARTLET TV talk. I thought you’d be interested.

OBAMA I’m not. They pivoted off the argument that I was inexperienced to the criticism that I’m — wait for it — the Messiah, who, by the way, was a community organizer. When I speak I try to lead with inspiration and aptitude. How is that a liability?

BARTLET Because the idea of American exceptionalism doesn’t extend to Americans being exceptional. If you excelled academically and are able to casually use 690 SAT words then you might as well have the press shoot video of you giving the finger to the Statue of Liberty while the Dixie Chicks sing the University of the Taliban fight song. The people who want English to be the official language of the United States are uncomfortable with their leaders being fluent in it.

OBAMA You’re saying race doesn’t have anything to do with it?

BARTLET I wouldn’t go that far. Brains made me look arrogant but they make you look uppity. Plus, if you had a black daughter —

OBAMA I have two.

BARTLET — who was 17 and pregnant and unmarried and the father was a teenager hoping to launch a rap career with “Thug Life” inked across his chest, you’d come in fifth behind Bob Barr, Ralph Nader and a ficus.

OBAMA You’re not cheering me up.

BARTLET Is that what you came here for?

OBAMA No, but it wouldn’t kill you.

BARTLET Have you tried doing a two-hour special or a really good Christmas show?

OBAMA Sir —

BARTLET Hang on. Home run. Right here. Is there any chance you could get Michelle pregnant before the fall sweeps?

OBAMA The problem is we can’t appear angry. Bush called us the angry left. Did you see anyone in Denver who was angry?

BARTLET Well ... let me think. ...We went to war against the wrong country, Osama bin Laden just celebrated his seventh anniversary of not being caught either dead or alive, my family’s less safe than it was eight years ago, we’ve lost trillions of dollars, millions of jobs, thousands of lives and we lost an entire city due to bad weather. So, you know ... I’m a little angry.

OBAMA What would you do?

BARTLET GET ANGRIER! Call them liars, because that’s what they are. Sarah Palin didn’t say “thanks but no thanks” to the Bridge to Nowhere. She just said “Thanks.” You were raised by a single mother on food stamps — where does a guy with eight houses who was legacied into Annapolis get off calling you an elitist? And by the way, if you do nothing else, take that word back. Elite is a good word, it means well above average. I’d ask them what their problem is with excellence. While you’re at it, I want the word “patriot” back. McCain can say that the transcendent issue of our time is the spread of Islamic fanaticism or he can choose a running mate who doesn’t know the Bush doctrine from the Monroe Doctrine, but he can’t do both at the same time and call it patriotic. They have to lie — the truth isn’t their friend right now. Get angry. Mock them mercilessly; they’ve earned it. McCain decried agents of intolerance, then chose a running mate who had to ask if she was allowed to ban books from a public library. It’s not bad enough she thinks the planet Earth was created in six days 6,000 years ago complete with a man, a woman and a talking snake, she wants schools to teach the rest of our kids to deny geology, anthropology, archaeology and common sense too? It’s not bad enough she’s forcing her own daughter into a loveless marriage to a teenage hood, she wants the rest of us to guide our daughters in that direction too? It’s not enough that a woman shouldn’t have the right to choose, it should be the law of the land that she has to carry and deliver her rapist’s baby too? I don’t know whether or not Governor Palin has the tenacity of a pit bull, but I know for sure she’s got the qualifications of one. And you’re worried about seeming angry? You could eat their lunch, make them cry and tell their mamas about it and God himself would call it restrained. There are times when you are simply required to be impolite. There are times when condescension is called for!

OBAMA Good to get that off your chest?

BARTLET Am I keeping you from something?

OBAMA Well, it’s not as if I didn’t know all of that and it took you like 20 minutes to say.

BARTLET I know, I have a problem, but admitting it is the first step.

OBAMA What’s the second step?

BARTLET I don’t care.

OBAMA So what about hope? Chuck it for outrage and put-downs?

BARTLET No. You’re elite, you can do both. Four weeks ago you had the best week of your campaign, followed — granted, inexplicably — by the worst week of your campaign. And you’re still in a statistical dead heat. You’re a 47-year-old black man with a foreign-sounding name who went to Harvard and thinks devotion to your country and lapel pins aren’t the same thing and you’re in a statistical tie with a war hero and a Cinemax heroine. To these aged eyes, Senator, that’s what progress looks like. You guys got four debates. Get out of my house and go back to work.

OBAMA Wait, what is it you always used to say? When you hit a bump on the show and your people were down and frustrated? You’d give them a pep talk and then you’d always end it with something. What was it ...?

BARTLET “Break’s over.”

The 11th Character. Part I

2008-07-26T21:35:00.000-07:00

PG 13
Takes place before the show.
This is the first half. There will be a second half in about a week or so.
Takes place on another planet too so if things are blooming together that aren't supposed to be, well... tough.
Oh, and the Chinese is crap. If you speak Chinese, I am so so sorry.
(Also, I need to finish this too. Maybe I'll finish this first and then get back to Duncan, Kierna, and Lindsay.)

The 11th Character

Rain lashes at Serenity as Wash struggles to land her in their assigned bay on the outskirts of Elparan on Shadow, a moderately sized settlement that has been the lucky recipient of so much Alliance attention since the war. Fortunately, Serenity is the only ship currently ordered to land in this arm of the dock. With the way she is handling, Wash isn’t sure he can control her enough that if another ship had been parked on either side niether that ship or Serenity would have remained undamaged. Zoe sits calmly in the other seat as he swears with gusto at all the powers in the ‘verse he can think of.

Mal steps onto the bridge just as Serenity lands with a teeth jarring thump and cracks, deadpan,“Well now, that’s one way to get her on the ground.”

“My apologies, sir.” Wash responds, not meaning it; all the while hitting buttons seemingly at random to power down the ship, “ but if your jing-chang mei yong duh mechanic can’t get this boat running right, our next landing will be a lot less smooth.”

“No part of that touch down was smooth, Wash.”

Wash swings around in his chair, “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Mal ignores his sarcasm, turns to Zoe who is already standing. “How we looking?”

“Thrusters are uneven. Cut out too soon. He’s not wrong about the next time, sir.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Wash protests.

Mal continues to ignore him. “Same as last time?”

“Yes.”

Mal swears, looks out the windows at the horizon, notes absently that the rain is beginning to let up. After a moment he turns his attention back to his pilot, “Wash, see if you can’t figure what the hell is wrong with Serenity. Maybe with your help, Bester can pin point the problem.”

“Bester is the problem.” Wash says calmly, despite having said it roughly a hundred times before. But this time he senses Mal might finally be listening.

“Not much we can do about that now,” Mal says with a sigh. “ Don’t figure on finding another mechanic on this yu bun duh pee-goo rock.”

“Yu bun duh ...?” Wash asks, confused, looking from Zoe to Mal then glances back to Zoe for confirmation. “But I thought... wasn’t this your home?”

Mal catches the look that passes between them and purses his lips at Zoe, crossing his arms. She can read his unspoken question, ‘Now you’re talking about me to him?’

She raises one brow in response and takes a step forward, closer to Wash. Her actions say it for her, ‘Get used to it.’

Damn. Wash and Zoe? Mal did not see that coming. And it did not please him. On board relationships made things complicated. He did not like complicated. But he knows there really isn’t anything he can do about it- not that he would try. More then anyone he could think of, Zoe deserved some happiness. But... with Wash?

He sighs again. “Zoe, ship is yours. I’m taking the shuttle to Gabe's."

"Any idea what he wants?"

Mal had only spoken of the old man once or twice during the war but she figured he had been something of a father figure to Mal after his father passed away. Since he had gotten the wave his mood had become too melancholy for even her comfort. Zoe had been concerned, but Mal wasn't sharing. Not that she would push for answers.

"Shouldn’t be gone more than a few hours,” he says, ignoring her question. He doesn’t wait for a response and leaves the bridge, pausing at the foot of the small set of stairs that lead to the bridge when he overhears Wash complain to Zoe, “Last time? Zoe, you checking up on me?”

“Yes. Captain wasn’t happy with your flying.”

Mal smirks at Zoe's bluntness.

“It wasn’t my flying! It...”

“I know, honey...”

Honey?! Mal moves off, not entirely comfortable with the eaves dropping any longer. Hearing Zoe call someone honey... it was too much for him to comprehend.
~~~

The trip is short and by the time Mal lands outside Gabe’s place the rain has stopped completely. He stands for a moment in the doorway of the shuttle and for the first time in 8 years takes a breath of air from the world he grew up on. Shadow.

To anyone else homecoming would have been a momentous occasion, but Mal barely pauses to let the memories take hold before he steps out onto the rain soaked ground and begins to make his way to Gabe’s ranch.

It is second spring and the wild onion mixes with the scent of apricots on the rain scrubbed air. He has forgotten how clean the air was on Shadow. One could call it delicate even. However it was described, to Mal it just smells like home. A light breeze carries a touch of honey and he remembers suddenly how proud Gabe was of his beekeeping and smiles, wondering if he might get a few jars to take with him.

For a moment it is exactly as it had been the day he left. The same sky, trees… not a blade of grass out of place. He is just beginning to relax when he becomes aware of it. He slows down as the skin on the back of his neck crawls. Alliance patrols, buzzing high overhead, cutting into the silence with their constant oppressive presence. Always watching. His brows furrow, and he continues on.

No. This wasn’t home. Not anymore.

Despite the rain, the dirt path to Gabe’s house remains hard packed, leading in a straight no nonsense line to the simple porch. Mal notices that it has been repainted since he has seen it last, but already that paint is beginning to chip and fade. Gabe sits on the porch, sedately working at something in his hands even though Mal knows Gabe can see him coming.

As he nears the first step, Gabe intones quietly in greeting, “Malcolm.”

Mal continues onto the porch, “Mr. Inness, sir.”

Gabriel chuckles. “Knock it off, son. Take a seat. I’ll be done in a moment.”

Mal uses the action of sitting down to cover the sudden lump that has formed in his throat. He feels old. Tired. It has been too long since anyone that meant a damn to him called him son, and his reaction to it shocks him.

He tries to speak, clears his throat and starts again as casually as he can, “Got you’re wave.”

“Yep. Been wondering when you would finally come around. Started to think you wouldn’t.”

“Would have been here sooner, but had some trouble… got delayed,” Mal finishes, aware of how lame he must sound. How could he feel so old and like a 9 year old that is about to receive a lecture at the same time?

“Relax, son. Wasn’t a complaint. Just an old man’s observation.” Gabe chuckles again, looks up at Mal for the first time. “You look good. Healthy. All that travelin’ suit you fine?”

“It does at that.”

“You get enough sun? You ain’t cooped up in that boat too much are you?” Gabe peers closer at Mal, genuinely concerned.

Mal smiles, reassures him “I get plenty of sun, sir.”

Gabe sits back, looks down to his work again, “Good. Good. You’re ma wouldn’t be too keen on you living all confined. Ain’t natural, she would say. ‘That boy takes up so much room’, she’s told me on more than one occasion.”

Mal says nothing. The two sit in silence for a few moments.

Gabe says finally, quietly, “She was a good woman, your mother.”

“I know,” Mal agrees earnestly.

“She was proud of you.”

Mal looks over at him, not sure about wanting to continue the conversation in this direction. A hurt he had thought long gone flares up, making his breath catch. He doesn’t move, except to clench a fist.

Gabe continues as if he doesn’t notice Mal’s reaction, “Even before the war. Before you signed up to beat back those taan lán Alliance zhi zùn shén bù huó. She knew you were a good man. Told me that on more than one occasion, too.”

Mal blinks once, and tries to take a breath. He wants to speak, part of him wanting to thank Gabriel for his words, the other part to shout him down- tell him to stop talking about his mother in the past tense.

Still without looking up, Gabe continues in the same casual voice, “I never told her. What the Alliance done.” He looks at Mal now, leans forward with his anger clear on his weathered face, “tryin’ you for war crimes, beatin’ on you. No. I couldn’t tell her that.”

Mal swallows hard, nods in understanding.

“She was dying. Knew it, too. Thought she had lost you once after we got word you had been on Hera, in that huaang mò Valley. Day we found out you weren’t dead was the happiest I had seen your ma since the day you were born. Couldn’t take that away from her.”

“I appreciate that,” Mal finally manages.

“All I could do. I couldn’t keep her from dying. We tried. Damn infection moved too fast. Faster then I’d ever seen. Doc was gone, couldn’t get back in time.”

“Weren’t your fault, Gabe.”

“Feels like it.” He states firmly, then stands suddenly. Putting his work down he clears his throat signaling the end of that subject, “Well, come on. Got some of your stuff in the barn.”

~~~
Zoe leans against the doorway to Serenity’s engine room watching Wash tug at his hair in frustration. She smiles. Bester stands opposite Wash, his face the picture of oblivion. Their argument had been going on for at least an hour and Wash was no nearer to getting Bester to understand the importance of a smooth running engine than he was when the day started.

“She’s running fine. I don’t know why you’re so worked up!”

Wash looks at Zoe, his hands pulling at his face, “Running fine, he says.” He turns back to the indignant mechanic, “No, Bester. She isn’t. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks!”

“The only trouble we have is with the left grav boot, but that shouldn’t effect your flying.”

“It’s not the left grav boot. Something’s sticking. I can feel it. Have you checked the pin lock? They gum up sometimes.”

“Pin lock is just fine! You think I didn’t check that when you first started your complaining?”

“Well, something is wrong!”

“Maybe if you’d stop jarring her so much during landing…”

“Jar..! Yuán zhù wo cóng shì jué miàn páng hé jiaang guo tiáo wèi zhii. The damn engine is cutting out! It’s not landing, it’s GRAVITY! If that happens while we’re still burning through atomo, you’d get a whole lot less pretty real quick!”

Bester laughs, “Ooohhhhh. So that’s what this is about. You’re just upset that I turn the ladies heads.”

Wash stares at him, completely incredulous and asks shortly, “What?”

“Worried I might steal your woman.” Bester says laughing to himself, obviously proud of his deduction. He gives Zoe a sly glance and a wink.

Wash turns to Zoe, baffled. She rolls her eyes at Bester then casually shifts her weight from one foot to another.

Wash takes a breath, tries to work through the ridiculous, and tries again, “Bester. Your ability to turn heads,” he turns to Zoe and says emphatically, “Or NOT” then turns back to Bester, continuing, “is not my concern. You keeping the engine turning is.”

“Engine’s turning.”

That seems to be Serenity’s cue to back up Wash and his claims. A puff of smoke escapes from the engine as it slowly grinds to a halt. All three stand and stare for a moments, stunned.

Wash claps his hands together, breaking the sudden unnerving silence. “What was that you were saying?”

~~~

A Pledge

2008-07-26T21:19:00.000-07:00

I need to get back to this. I have it in my head. Honest. Just haven't had the time to type it out. I keep coming up with other things to do instead.
Starting Monday. (This Monday. Or maybe next Monday) I'll get back to it.

Missing Post

2007-08-24T13:04:00.001-07:00

Duncan whispers between gasping breaths, "Where are we?"

"The end of the tunnel," Kierna responds, breathing with just as much difficulty as he. The air had grown thinner the closer they got to the entrance. "Just outside this door and you, my friend, are free."

With her enhanced sight she can tell that Duncan doesn't smile, and she didn't think he would. The drac had kept coming at them, and it seemed an eternity since she had revived him. Never before had he known such fear. He had been in countless battles, traveled the world alone, defeated many enemies; but this was different. Weakened, being dragged in the dark by a women- a thing- he didn't know, attacked over and over by creatures out of nightmare...at times they had to make their way on hands and knees, the only sense guiding him along was by feel; always tense, waiting, wondering when the next assault would come. His strength had returned eventually and he was grateful for the chance to assist in their defense as they tried to escape his prison, but once again they sat in the dark, waiting for her next move.

"Now what?" he asks. "What’s behind the door?"

Unable to see in the dark, he doesn't see her replace the helmet she had removed when first entering the labyrinth. She turns to him as he leans against the wall and says through her comm, "for you Duncan, death. But just for a little while." He is startled by the scratchy electronic voice, but the words penetrate immediately. He begins to protest, but she opens the door and the thin air he had been forcing into his lungs rushes out. Coughing and gasping he falls once again to the floor.

"Relax, Duncan. It will be over shortly." Despite her assurances, he continues to struggle, but is quickly overcome.

She checks his pulse, and sighs regretfully when she can find none. She pauses for a moment in the open doorway, gathering her strength as the fresh supply of oxygen fills her.

Renewed, she lifts him up as if he were a child and carries him into the inhospitable landscape. Placing him back onto the ground gently, she uses the strewn canopy of the parachute as a sling, wrapping him in a cocoon of silver fabric. Tying the ropes around her waist, she lifts him again and places him over her shoulder as she surveys the surroundings.

The walls are rough with many hand holds, and long vertical cuts run from the floor to the top of the chimney shaped cavern, just wide enough for her to use to carry them both up to the surface. She moves to the wall and looks up into the night sky. Faint stars glitter beyond the lip that is a little more then a mile above, but the faint light is enough for her to navigate by.

Resolved, her path chosen, she takes one last steadying breath, places Duncan back on the ground, and begins her ascent. As she climbs, the ropes becomes taught, then groan in protest as his full weight pulls against them.

Slowly, with great care, she moves them upward using her hands and feet to slowly move away from the floor of the cavern as Duncan is being pulled behind like supplies. She regretted the unceremonious way he was being liberated from Sanctuary, but it couldn't be helped. This was her only option. She dared not use any electronic or mechanical means to move him to safety. Those could be detected from too far away. Manually was the only way to assure they both would make it to the top alive.

Well , she amended to herself, not alive .... then returned her concentration to the climb.

Hours later, she begins to notice the cut in the rock was becoming wider, and soon she wouldn't be able to continue along it. Not wanting too look down and be disappointed by their progress, Kierna reluctantly peers over her shoulder. Releasing the wall with one hand, she taps the console on her arm with a spare finger from the other hand. “.47 kilometers,” the display reads, and she curses. Only a fourth of the way. Dismayed, she looks back up, considering. She could move horizontally along the face of the cliff to a cut in the rock about 100 meters to her left, but that would take time.... She sighs, mulling over her options.
Time was running out.

The quickest path between any two points was a straight line. They were point A. She needed to get them to the top as quickly as she could. That was point B. She didn’t have time to move horizontally along the face to another point A, just to continue. She curses again. If only she could make her reach longer...yes, longer. She then reaches with her free hand behind her back for her den’bok. Using it as a brace, she opens it to it’s full length, wedging it between the ridges in the cut they are ascending. The ends pierce the rock and hold, like a ladders rung. Placing one foot on it, she tests it’s strength and is delighted when it holds firm. She moves her other foot onto the slim pole, and stands for a moment, catching her breath. This could work.

Her spirits raised, she spares a glance back to her cargo is horrified to discover it moving. He was awake! The air did have a scant amount of oxygen, but was it enough for his body to reanimate itself? For how long? He must be waking and dying over and over in this thin atmosphere. She shuddered at the thought, but there was nothing she could do about it. The best thing, the only thing she could do for him was get him off this damn planet.

Pulling out the second den’bok, she opens it about 1 and a half meters above the first. Climbing up onto the second pole, she balances herself and braces against the weight of Duncan’s body as she reaches down, releases the first, and repeats the process. Hand over hand is replaced by pole over pole. The work tedious and mind numbing, but if centuries of living with a Vorlon taught her anything, it was patience. She put her own concerns out of her mind, tried to ignore the occasional sounds of struggle beneath her, and concentrated on the task at hand: to not fall.

Been a while, huh?

2007-08-16T12:36:00.000-07:00

Just a note to anyone that actually cares: I do intend to finish this. I mean, I have it all plotted out in my head, it's just that sometimes the thing in my head gets warped beyond recognition when it comes out my fingers. I don't know what that is. Some kind of disconnect between brain and hand? A glitch in The Matrix perhaps. An Abyss that the uber cool stuff falls into... Well whatever it is, I've got to get over because I have a few very unhappy people running around in my head and most of that have pointy weapons.
A few more weeks. Then I think I'll have my disconnect licked.

Links to B5/Highlander

2006-02-02T08:03:00.000-08:00

Edit: 2/2/06 I added a few more links.

OK! I got em all to work!!! Woo hoo!
Ok. In my Triple Virgoness, I have decided that the best way to make this story as I am writing it so far much more easily accesable, it needs its own post with nothing but links to all the parts. (Which doesn't make much sense, but since I am currently working on a knot in the story, doing this makes me feel like I am making progress.)

Part 1 Sanctuary.
Part 2 Kierna & Duncan.
Part 3 Capt. Joe Dawson.
Part 4 The Rangers.
Part 5 Capt. Marcus.
Part 6 Gotcha.
APart 7 Ambush.
Part 8 Dogfight.
Part 9 The Juvat.
Part 10 Dogfight cont'd.
Part 11 Visions.
Part 12 Aboard the White Star.
Part 13 Babylon 5.
Part 14 Detour.
Part 15 Origen's Moon.
Part 16 The Date.
Part 17 Down Below.
Part 18 A Little Reminder.
Part 19 Plan B
Part 20 To the Rescue
Part 21 Quickening
Part 22 Questions
Part 23 Who are you?

Part 23~ Who are you?

2006-01-29T17:04:00.000-08:00

Joe slouches in his cell, numb, his mind and body disconnected. He obeyed the commands issued by the guards when they lead him away from Kage and into his cell in security, but his mind registered none of it.

He can barely summon the energy to wonder, 'Has it been hours or days?'

Guards had come and asked questions. Then came the inquisitor, who also met with Joe’s frustrating silence.

Briefly he was roused from his weariness by Lindsey’s voice in the hall and by the surge of anger at the Ranger woman and the destruction of the life he had made for himself by dangling answers before him. Answers about the missing years of his life, the odd sensations he sometimes felt the need to hide from, but he couldn’t resist chasing when Lindsey showed up on the deck of the Alexa, asking that he come with her.

A cavalier voice in his mind pointed out that if she hadn’t, he would probably be dead.

Dead.

He laughs a little, slightly manic.

The clarity he had felt when he had squared off against Kage has deserted him and has left a void that was threatening to swallow him whole and to his horror he realizes a part of him wants to succumb to the darkness and the imagined peace he might find there, but another part of him recoils from that desire with a ferocity he did not know he had possessed. The war within him was consuming him completely and left no energy for the world around him. Which was why he didn’t hear the door open when she entered. Doesn’t even realize she is in the room with him until her hand slides beneath his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes.

Lyta Alexander… she doesn't say the name, but he can feel her identity.

At first, she says nothing. And he responds in kind. In his apathy, he lets her stare into his eyes, searching for what he doesn’t know, or care. Until, he starts to feel it; her mind probing his, igniting his need to know, like an itch. She could breach the barriers with ease, unlike the others that had tried… and suddenly he was afraid.

She sinks down into the chair in front of him, keeping her eyes on his. Physically, he could have broken free from her grasp, with the exception of the sheer force of her will. That was what was keeping him still, trapped.

She smiled slightly, without much humor however, and says, "This might hurt a little, but only for a moment." And once again the world around him vanished, but his time, to be replaced by the chaos that he knew was his own mind.

Suddenly he is standing with her on a precipice. He has the vague idea of being in a large cavern, standing on a ledge in the middle of a vertical shaft. Before them, images swirled. His memories. Ripped apart in a vortex that stretches in both directions with out end.

He turns to look at Lyta, but finds himself alone, the cavern, the chaos gone and thinks to himself, ‘I am the chaos,’ and knows that she is on the precipice alone, attempting to contain that vortex, and bring it to order.

Lyta stares at the chaos with awe. All her years as a telepath, all the minds she had probed, had never been so... full. No human life at least. Vorlons had a consciousness that were seemingly eternal, as Joe's looked to her now, and with the same clarity as a Vorlon mind.

Life experience left an imprint, an image attached to emotion, but were for the most part a ghost of that fact of the incident. In Joe's mind, however, they were more like recordings. Accurate in every detail the events he had experienced in his life, to be examined at will whenever he chose. Until a block had ripped them apart, preventing him access to all the knowledge he had gained.

And how long of a life did he have? She allows the images to flow past her, passive as the rush by. Was that Rome? Egypt, with an unfinished pyramid? New York City? In the 20th century?

The images overwhelm her for a moment, but she returns to herself, keeping her own consciousness confined, separate from his. If she wasn't careful, she could lose herself to the chaos.

'Focus', she reminds herself. 'Let the memories flow over you, find the key...'
As she watches, a pattern begins to emerge. Similar incident have swarmed together in the vortex. Pleasurable memories here, moments of darkness there... friends, enemies, lovers. Each had a category and had flocked together. But one memory would be the key, the one that would force all the rest to return to their proper places in time, to be accessed again by Joe, to return as his memories. This key would be unique, special...

At first, Lyta fears that the sheer amount of life experience will make finding this unique moment difficult. So much to search through, so many options to choose from. She picks from the chaos memories that seem unique and hold them for Joe to see, but nothing registers with him. The chaos continues to swirl and for a moment it seems to react to her attempts and move faster, trying to make her job more difficult. Instead, the images flow by her more quickly, allowing her to see the patterns with more clarity.

'It will be a women', she thinks to herself with a tiny smile, and concentrates her efforts there. After that initial realization, the rest was easy. The memory stood out for both the love and the loss.

She was frail, lying on her death bed. Lyta begins to pull the image forward, and to her surprise can feel Joe resisting. Was that guilt? Anger? The vortex accelerate in response, trying to rip the image from her, but her will is greater then his. She rips the memory from the chaos.

A pale woman with eyes brimming with tears stares up at him, commands him, "Methos, remember me."

Soon. I promise

2005-10-19T21:32:00.000-07:00

For the 2 or 3 people that are keeping up with this... I will finish. Promise. I just got a little stuck...
Consider it a hiatus. Like the networks have in November and they air re-runs or bad movies of the week, only without the sucky movie of the week thing.

Part 22 ~Questions

2005-09-18T12:14:00.000-07:00

The cell was bare and a bit chilly, but had a soft bunk and was thankfully clean. Lindsey sits on the little bed, ankles crossed and curled under with her hands resting lightly on her knees. She has her eyes closed and is trying very hard not to think, which makes it impossible to do so. Bloody oath, I am so bored!

Sighing in frustration, she opens her eyes. What is taking Marcus so damn long?

Just as she settles back for one more attempt at inner tranquility there is a commotion at the door. Trying not to get her hopes that it was the Captain finally coming to spring her, she keeps her expression passive as two stone faced guards instruct her to come with them.

Neither speaks to her as they guide her along a narrow hallway to another small, chilly room with a single table and two uncomfortable looking chairs.

She moves into the room and turns before they can shut her in, “Any chance I could get some lunch?”

Without a word, they close the door.

“Guess not,” she mutters to herself, then sits down in the chair farthest from the door. It isn’t long after that another man enters, his face as blank as the two guards. He doesn’t offer his name or even look up at her at first, instead his concentration is on a file he is reading. She represses the urge to sigh.

“Miss Sinclair, is it?”

“Anla’shok Sinclair,” she corrects him.

“Ah. Yes,” he replies absently, still focused on the tablet in front of him. “Sinclair... an relation to Jeffery Sinclair?”

“Uncle,” she says shortly.

He finally looks up at her, raising one brow. “Ah,” he repeats, and then falls into silence once again, reading.

She waits.

He clears his throat and looks up at her, “Born on Mars, raised in Australia, correct?”

“Yes.”

"Joined Earth Force in 2261?"

"Yes."

“It says here you were facing a Court Martial while on the Persephone.”

“Not true,” she replies calmly.

“Excuse me?”

“That isn’t true. I never faced a Court Martial.”

“You were thrown in the brig.”

“True.”

“For firing on a member of your own squad.”

“Also true.”

He pauses, frowning, then says, “You don’t seem bothered by that.”

“Why should I?”

“You fired on a member of your squad,” he repeats.

“I disabled his ship. He was about to fire on an un-armed transport.”

“He was obeying a direct order.”

“An illegal one.”

“Ah yes, that is what Commander McGraw claimed when he took command from Captain Vergonetti, wasn’t it?”

“It was. And it was true.”

“How convenient for you.”

Lindsey sits back, astonished, “To be on a ship with a CO that issues illegal orders? No, not really.”

“You were involved in that little coup as well.”

She sighs, “Unless Earth Force is going to re-open a case they closed more then five years ago, I don’t see why you are bringing this up.”

“I just wanted to know why kind of... people... the Rangers recruit.”

“Dedicated and uncompromising.”

“Those aren’t the words I would choose,” he replies cooly. If he is expecting her to ask, he is disappointed. Instead, she sits back and tries to calm herself.

After a few moments of silence, she raises her brows at him, “Any more questions, or judgements to pass?”

“You think you are better then us, don’t you?”

“Us? Us who?”

“Earth Force.”

“You are being ridiculous.”

“Am I? Tell me about the weapon that was smuggled on board.”

“Smuggled?”

“Yes. The sword.”

“It wasn’t smuggled. Check the records. It was declared.”

“The hilt was. There is no mention of it’s ability to alter.”

“No one asked.”

“I am now. Where did it come from?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s technology seems to be based on the same as a Ranger den’bok. Minbari technology.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. So, where did it come from?”

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She doesn’t respond.

He sits back, appraising her she thinks. “Fine then Anla’shok Sinclair, tell me about the victim.”

“Victim? It was self defense.”

“He attacked you did he?”

“No,” she says puzzled, “He attacked Joe. Ask Captain Lochley. She was there.”

“And in self defense, Mr. Dawson decapitated him,” he says deadpan.

Again, she says nothing.

Suddenly, he leans forward, “Why didn’t you defend Joe Dawson?”

“What?”

“You came upon them when Mr. Cage attacked, why didn’t you intervene?”

“I... I couldn’t”

“Why not. You had the weapon. You’re a trained Ranger.”

“I was too far away.”

“Nonsense. As you said, Captain Lochley was there.”

She stares at him for a moment, the says reluctantly. “It won’t open for me.”

“The sword?”

She looks down, “Yes.”

“We know. It won’t open for us either. At least, it didn’t until we used some of Mr. Dawson’s DNA on it.”

She looks up at him sharply, “His what?”

“His DNA. Just a little dab, and whoosh. Springs right open.”

“How did you get...?”

“He volunteered it.”

Lindsey sits back, stunned.

“Isn’t that interesting, Anla’shok Sinclair? A minbari weapon with a DNA lock on it keyed to only one man.”

Before she can respond, the door opens and a guard comes in to speak to her interrogator. He frowns, but nods his head.

“Seems you are free to go.”

Her mind still whirling, she stands and walks past him without saying a word.

After she is gone, the guard asks, “Well?”

“I didn’t get anything. The reports on her are true. I couldn’t read her. She was blocking me.”

Trite

2005-08-26T09:35:00.000-07:00

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,”
This is something I often wonder.
“Out of sight is out of mind,”
This is true I often find.

These clichés are contradicting.
Which is what has got me thinking,
Is one false, the other true,
Or does it depend on whom you knew?

Can you miss someone completely,
And another, forget quite neatly?
And I wonder which am I,
A fleeting thought or unbroken tie.

Part 21 ~ Quickening

2005-08-17T07:02:00.000-07:00

The sword hilt sprang into life as a full-length sword, surprising Joe with its weight. Despite it's former compact state, it feels heavy in his hand. Real. He holds it up and traces the blade with his eyes, as if reading a story. The thousands of questions he had quiet, moving aside for one clear thought. “I know what to do.” In his head he begins to laugh; not at the absurdity of being on a space station holding a sword that just a moment ago wasn't there, but at the familiarity of the situation. He knew this. He knew what to do, what he had to do, and it was ludicrous. Insane even.

Seeing that Joe is now armed Cage steps back but keeps his sword up, waiting.

With out knowing how, Joe sizes him up, looking for strengths and weaknesses. He measures the room as well. The ceiling, which seemed vaulted compared to the other hallways, was low when considering the swing of what he now held in his hands. The walls around them were only 8 feet, maybe 9 feet wide. Not a lot of room to maneuver. Without turning to face them, he knows that Lindsey and Elizabeth are still there, watching, and suddenly he wishes they weren’t.

Joe mirrors Cage and his stance. Sword held up, right foot forward. The two men slowly begin to circle each other keeping the points of their swords held up at the ready.

"You seem to know The Game now boy," Cage says slowly, almost as an accusation.

"Not really," Joe replies quietly, still circling.

"We'll see," he says, then lunges forward, thrusting his sword at Joe's throat. Joe deflects the move, pushing Cage's sword down and to the left, then slides his own across Cage's chest. The older man backs away with a hiss, raising his sword against further attack, but Joe only steps back into his previous stance.

They begin circling once again.

"What was your name again?" Cage asks.

Joe sees no reason to deny him an answer, "Joe Dawson."

"How come I have never heard of you?"

Joe shrugs slightly but doesn't answer. In a way, Cage's confusion was comforting to him. More so then his new found knowledge of swordplay. At least he wasn't the only one that didn't know what was going on. In a way, that bound him to Cage. He was going to feel bad about killing him.

Cage continues to question in a conversational tone, "So, just how old are you?"

"I don't know." Joe replies honestly. Cage's eyebrows raise in surprise at the answer, but he makes no comment. Instead, he lunges again, this time aiming for Joe's stomach. Joe sidesteps the advance, deflecting the blow while moving close to Cage, and punches him in the throat with his free hand. The older man stagers back, but comes at Joe again with a growl, this time pushing Joe's sword aside, then throwing his full body weight into him with his shoulder. Joe slams backward into the wall, smacking his head hard, dimming his vision for a moment. Cage sees his chance and begins a death blow, but Joe scrambles out of the way at the last moment. As he does, he uses the point of his sword to slice at Cage's knee.

Cage howls in pain and falls clumsily to one knee. With a calm that surprises him, Joe turns and from Cage's side, brings down his sword onto his neck. He hears Elizabeth holler "Joe, no!" but too late to pull back. “It must be done.”

Cage's body slumps forward and Joe steps back, stunned, the calm that had filled him now gone. “Oh god. What am I?”

In the silence he hears the two women moving, but doesn't turn. Through the fog in his mind, he feels something odd... a tingling. He looks down, and is shocked to see wisps of electricity dancing along the body. The movement behind him stops and he turns. Lindsey has her hand on Elizabeth's arm and is pulling her back. He sees her talking, but a buzzing fills his ears and he can't make out what she is saying. Elizabeth looks from the body up to him and Joe sees it, written plainly: Horror. Disgust. At the same time as his heart breaks just a little, all hell breaks loose.

_________

"Captain," Lindsey says urgently, "stay back!"

Lochely halts more from shock then the urging of the Ranger and stares at Joe in disbelief. Just as she is about to pull away from Lindsey, a bolt of lighting lances up from the floor and hits Joe in the chest . Both women jump in surprise, and finally Lindsey is successful in pulling the commander of Babylon 5 back to the scant coverage of the hall opening. They huddle together and Lindsey tries to cover Lochley with her body. Joe screams and she can't help but turn towards him, curiosity winning out over the need to protect herself.

His body is tense, arms thrown wide. His face is a twisted mask of pain as bolt after bolt strikes his body. A detached part of her is fascinated, watching as small licks of electricity crawl away from Cage's body and come together to strike at Joe. Instinct keeps her huddled away from the spectacle, but in the back of her mind, she recalls Kierna's words.

"Afer a Quickening starts, the chances of it harming you are practically none. Once it has it's mark, it unleashes all it's power into it."

"It? You mean him?" Lindsey had asked.

"Yes."

"What is it?"

Kierna shrugged, "Power"

Lindsey sat, considering, then asked with a raised brow, "Practically none?"

Kierna smiled a bit, "Well... there was this one instance..."

"What happened?"

"A quickening hit a nurse..."

"And?"

"It's a long story. Don't worry about it. It was a fluke. An anomaly. Don't get too close, but you should be fine."

She notices the strength of the bolts decreasing and Joe has long since stopped screaming, but his body remains painfully tense. Then silence.

She moves back, then stands slowly. Elizabeth does the same. Joe stares blankly at the two women, the slumps to the ground on his knees. Without thinking about it, Lindsey rushes to him.

"Joe? Are you alright?"

He says nothing, just gasps for breath with his eyes closed. She notices the sword laying by his side. She grasps the hilt and depresses the button, shrinking the weapon into a hilt once again.

He opens his eyes, glaring at her. "What am I?"

She winces at the pain and confusion on his face and says quietly, "I'm sorry, Joe."

To her surprise, his mouth twists into a half smile. "You've been saying that to me a lot lately."

"I know. I'm..." she stops, realizing the next word was going to be 'sorry' and sits back on her heels. "Can you stand?" she asks instead.

"What am I?" he repeats, this time with more force.

"Immortal. Just as he was," she motions towards Cage. Joe follows her hand with his eyes.

"He doesn't seem very immortal to me," he replies tiredly. She says nothing. "You knew," he says flatly.

"Yes... I did. But I had no idea..." Lindsey stops. Six members of security move into the corridor. “About time!” Lindsey thinks to herself, annoyed.

They halt before Lochley, surprise and shock evident on their faces. Lindsey can't hear what Lochley says, but isn't surprised when two of the guard approach Joe. What does surprise her are the two that move towards her and haul her into standing position and order her to move, just as the first two do it with Joe.

Lindsey looks up at Lochley, who meets her gaze calmly, "Take them both to security. Hold them there."

"But..." is all Lindsey can say, then she is escorted out of the corridor with Joe being led just behind her.

"Wait," Lochley says, just as they are about to enter the larger hall of Down Below. She moves to the front of the procession and stands in front of Lindsey. Without a word, the Captain reaches down and takes the hilt from Lindsey and hands it to another guard. "Keep this with you."

"What is it?" he asks.

"Evidence," she replies, then walks away.

Part 20~ To The Rescue

2005-08-07T19:33:00.000-07:00

Lindsey worries at her lip, feeling guilty. She had changed out of her Ranger uniform as she is officially off duty, but unofficially she is to keep an eye on Joe Dawson. And that means watching him when he wasn't aware she was around.

Oh, it's spying. she says to herself angrily. Just admit it!

She peers over her paper, feeling foolish and obvious. Spies always hide behind newspapers. Real original, Sinclair.

She sighs as she watches Joe and Captain Lochley as the waiter brings over their desert. He stomach growls and she frowns. "Just great."

After Joe had left for his date, Marcus had subtly suggested she follow by simply handing her a cloth wrapped package and pointing towards the door. She had wanted to kick him. She had been looking forward to some time alone because her headache had come back with a vengeance and as her stomach now testified to, she hadn't eaten all day.

This is ridiculous. He's with the captain of the station.! Just what did Marcus think was going to.... wait. Who is that?

She watches as an older man slows as he passes the Open Air Restaurant with his eyes clearly on Joe, and Joe looking back. After a few moments, the man moves on with Joe and Captain Lochley following.

Bloody Oath! I hate it when he's right. Lindsey gets up to follow.

__________

As soon as the unknown man had gotten on the lift, Lindsey knew he was heading for Down Below. She had only been on the station once before but she knew as well as anyone that if you wanted to avoid someone you went there.

Stepping onto another lift further down the section then where Captain Lochley and Joe wait for another, she contacts Marcus.

"Are you happy? You were right,” she says simply.

"Where are they going?" He asks, his voice coming through the COMM clearly.

"Down Below."

"And where are you?"

She replies a bit testily, "I'm heading Down Below."

She can't see him but she knows he is smiling. "Just checking..." he says with patronizing amusement.

Lindsey sighs but doesn't rise to the bait. Instead, she makes a calculated guess. "You’ll have to talk to security, so I suggest you get dressed."

She is rewarded with his startled protest and Susan's deep chuckle from farther off in the room.

"What? I...I... dammit."

"I thought so." Lindsey says with satisfaction and cuts off the connection before he can reply.

____________

Down Below is not her favorite place. The last time Lindsey had been here, a few thugs decided to get their revenge on her for sharing the same last name as the first commander of the station. The fact that what he had done was keep them from smuggling illegal weapons onto the station to sell didn’t seem to matter to them. Marcus had been the one to save her that day, but today she knew she was on her own, and supposed to be the one doing the saving. If I am allowed, she thinks to herself sadly.

She navigates the corridors quickly, trying to find a good vantage point for spotting Joe and Captain Lochley when they arrive. The best she can do is keep behind a small crowd that have gathered around for an impromptu singing contest between a pair of pok’mor’a and a Narn missionary. Great for keeping out of sight, but because of the noise she can’t hear what either Joe or Lochley are saying after they come out from Jayce’s booth and move down the hall to Cage’s, or what the three of them are saying to each other after Cage steps out to confront them.

Just as she is about to move, the trio turn and walk back towards her for a few meters, then turn down another corridor. While giving them time to move ahead enough to not realize she is behind them, she notices that no one else seems to be using that particular corridor. Suddenly feeling as if she should hurry, she leaves her place of hiding and follows.

It isn't long before she can hear their voices being carried down the hall. At first they are quiet, civilized, but she can hear Cage's voice becoming aggitated, as if he is working himself up for something and Joe's voice trying to calm things down again. Then an unholy roar stops her breath.

"The Game!"

No. Not yet. He isn't ready!

"Oh hell." She starts running as she works at the cloth wrapped around the object Marcus had given her only hours before. Too busy trying to undo the knot, Lindsey nearly slams into Captain Lochley who is yelling frantically into her COMM.

"Get me security, now!" she hollars, ignoring Lindsey who runs past and then stops just behind Cage who is rushing Joe. He brings his sword down and pulls back as if to thrust it into Joe's stomach, but Joe dodges sideways at the last moment.

Eyes wide with fear, he yells, "Lindsey! What the hell is going on?"

Her only response is to throw the metal object at him. He catches it in one hand and looks up at her incredulous. A hilt? A sword hilt?

"Hold it away from you. Push the button," she hollars as Cage starts to move in for another attack. He does as he is told and with a snap that nearly pulls the sword hilt from his hand, it extends to it's full length, the metal of the blade flawless.

Lindsey, doing all that she knows she is allowed, reluctantly steps back to Lochley's side.

"What isgoing on?" Elizabeth hisses fiercely, grabing Lindsey's arm.

Instead of answering, Lindsey asks, "How long till security can get here?"

"I don't know."

The two woman turn back to the mideivel scene playing out before them.

"Hope they hurry," Lindsey says quietly.

Part 19 ~Plan B

2005-07-23T21:12:00.000-07:00

A bemused smile plays across his face and Kierna is about to aks him what he finds so funny when their attention is drawn by a very loud and inebriated Centauri at the head of the line. He is shouting as he is being forcibly escorted by two large security guards.

“The Empire’s money isn’t good enough for you?” he demands, struggling in their grip.

As the trio pass by, Duncan’s eyebrows shoot up as an appendage slides out from under the Centauri’s heavily brocaded vest and snakes around the weapon of the largest of the guards. The Centauri, feigning a misstep, uses the guards hesitation to break free of their grasp, stepping back as he retrieves the weapon to raise at the guard closest.

Without thinking about why, Duncan lunges forward and grabs the Centauri's wrists, causing his shot to go wide, barely grazing the first guard. Cursing loudly, the Centauri tries to push Duncan away from him with his body, but Duncan is ready for such a move and steps aside and uses the alien's momentum to bring him to the floor. Immediately, the second guard falls on top of both as the other nurses the wound to his shoulder and calls on his COMM for help.

All during the commotion Kierna stands by without moving to help, puzzling Duncan, but the Centauri was stronger then he looked and his struggles keep Duncan and the other guard occupied.

With in moments, more guards appear and pull the Centauri from underneath them both and without a word hustles him off. The injured guard nods his head in thanks and follows the rest.

Standing amid the crowd that had paused to watch the spectacle, Duncan turns to Kierna, "Thanks for the help." he says deadpan.

"Be serious, Duncan! Do I look like the type of girl that gets involved with criminals," she sighs, then rolls her eyes for effect and he stares at her for a moment speechless. "Can we go know please?"

Then a small smile plays along his lips at her bored expression, "I saw how you at Hermods. When that girl tried to take that sparkly white... what was that anyhow?"

"Pashmina!"

"You didn't hesitate to kick her."

"That's different," she protests loudly, sauntering angrily towards the second gate.

"Different?" he glowers, keeping stride with her, "Different! Sure, because fashion was at stake! Oh help us all!"

"You're mocking me." she replies sullenly and Duncan sees the amused smiles of the crowd that had started to break up but pause again at their argument, leaving a large hole in the once long line. Even the security guards inside their booths turns their eyes towards the bickering couple, letting travelers pass through without much scrutiny.

He reaches out to try and take her arm, but she pulls it away angrily, quickening her steps.

"Sweetheart," he tries, "Don't be like that."

"Like what?" she snaps.

"Don't be angry with me. We're on vacation."

"And yet you start trouble!"

They reach the gate and still the crowd is still watching them. The guard behind the booth they approach looks both amused and startled that they were heading his way and Duncan could almost feel sorry for him, except for what he carries on his back. He looks so young, Duncan thinks to himself and realizes Kierna had headed in this direction on purpose. She had chosen someone that looked new and unsure.

"Trouble?" he hollers in disbelief. "He had a weapon! He could have shot all of us!"

"You could have stayed out of it!" she hollers back, thrusting both hers and Duncan's identi-card to the stunned gate guard. He is shaken as he tries to insert first one then the other card in the computer as quickly as he can.

Tapping his fingers as if that would hurry the machine, Kierna and Duncan continue their argument. The guard hands their cards back with a sigh of relief and waves them through.

"What would you have me do?" Duncan demands.

"Nothing!"

"Fine," he says as they move away from the gate, "I'll do "nothing" from now on. Happy?"

As they turn the corner, Kierna stops and smiles broadly. "Well. That was fun," she says. "And easy," her smile fades a bit.

"Almost too easy," Duncan grabs her elbow and hurries her along, looking back as they move down the hall. "Should we continue?"

"No," she says, "This last gate is automatic. No guards involved. Can't distract a computer and it's sensors with a lovers quarrel."

"So, we just walk through?"

"Sure. I don't have any weapons, and the only one you have doesn't have an energy signature."

"Nothing like low tech," he replies sardonically, eyeing the hall as they move towards another set of gates.

There were fewer people in this hall then the last. Probably because it is supposed to take longer to get through the second gate... for most people, he says to himself, so anyone that had gone through previously had already made it past the third gate ahead.

The decor was more sparse as well. The walls painted a glossy white and free from any of the garish "artwork" that filled the walls in the previous section. Small trees still ran down the center of the hall with benches built around each island of dirt, reminding him of every mall in America in the late twentieth century. But other then that, the hall was empty.

Even the tiles on the floor were more utilitarian. Mosaics had decorated the floor of the previous two gates, depicted scenes of paradise and love. This floor was the same glossy white as the walls with large 4 foot by 4 foot square tiles. They look like marble, but sound like metal. He is about to ask Kierna when she roughly shoves him away from her, and then the hall goes dark.

"Kierna!"

"Don't come near me, Duncan." she says urgently.

He is about to do just that when a sudden strobe of light forces him to close his eyes. In that instant he had seen her on her hands and knees in front of him. She screams and he opens his eyes to darkness except for a glowing image of her like an after burn, but in blue. He watches as the motes of light dance for a moment in her exact shape then fall to the ground like snow. He hears many footsteps racing towards them and when the lights turn back on she is still on the ground and surrounded by guards pointing their weapons at her.

He starts to move forward again, but is blocked by one of the guards with a stiff arm.

"Sir, I suggest you keep moving," he says harshly and motions towards the third gate with his chin.

Duncan looks down at Kierna and is startled to see that her skin and hair are once again pale and white. What was that? Why can't she get up?
"I'm with her," he says, refusing to move.

"I'm sure you were unaware you were traveling with a fugitive, sir. Keep moving."

"Fugitive?" Kierna asks with a chuckle. "Aren't you guys a little out of touch?"

In response a guard on the opposite side of the circle kicks her in the side. She grunts with pain, but doesn't move; as if her arms and legs are too heavy to even lift in defense of herself.

"The plate is holding, sir," one of the younger guards says to the man still holding Duncan back.

Without turning his attention, the guard pushes against Duncan again and levels his weapon at him and Duncan realizes it is the same man he had helped subdue the Centauri only moments before. "Keep moving," he says again.

"Go, Duncan," she says tiredly, then adds, "Have fun."

She is rewarded with another kick to the side.

"Maybe we should take him too?" the younger guard asks, eyeing Duncan warily.

The first pauses, still keeping his eyes on Duncan. "No," he says after a moment, then turns towards the rest. "You, take her to Origen. I'll escort this man the final gate."

Without argument, they obey his orders. They shackle her hands and feet before Duncan sees one point something at the tile she is on, releasing her from whatever force held her down.

"Artificial grav plates," his escort explains quietly, "Subdues anyone we want on command."

She looks up at him as the guard shoves Duncan forward and she winks quickly, but he is still reluctant to leave her side. I guess it's plan B, he thinks to himself sadly. Everything that he is and stands for is warring with what he needs to do. He sighs heavily and finally allows himself to be led away.

"What is going to happen to her?" he asks the guard once they were outside earshot of the others.

"That is up to Origen."

"And what do you think he will do?"

"I don't want to know."

Part 18 ~ A Little Reminder

2005-07-23T21:10:00.000-07:00

The diversity of races that are waiting to get inside the station nearly overwhelm Duncan as he stands in line with Kierna outside the second security gate. Looking at all the different faces in all their different configurations makes him feel like he is at a costume party, and he is under dressed for the occasion. He had been immediately reminded of Las Vegas when they had passed through the first gate; the neon lights, the forced vitality of the decor. If he allowed himself he could almost imagine he was back on Earth, but then an alien would cross into his line of site, destroying the illusion.

Next to him, Kierna wears a more human palate. Her normally luminescent hair is shaded a dark brown with highlights of shocking red.

‘My favorite color,’ she had commented absently to his raised brow when she had come out of her quarters on the Juvat before they had disembarked. She had also darkened her skin to a bronze tone that Duncan thought was complimented by the shimmering wine colored dress she had chosen.

‘Very nice,’ he had said as she spun for him with a grin, ‘But I thought we didn’t want to get noticed?’

‘Oh Duncan', she had said gesturing to herself, ‘Do you really think anyone is going to be looking at you…?’ Her tone had reminded him very much of Amanda when she was up to something.

He looks over at her now, flirting with a crew of six drazi. She was toying with her hair and laughing loudly at their ill-timed jokes. When the line moves forward he notices an extra sway to her gait and realizes, just as Amanda always had, Kierna was enjoying the subterfuge. He smiles suddenly, amused by her resemblance to the irrepressible immortal.

Amanda smiles at him from above her wine glass and watches Duncan from across the bed. She is leaning against a pile of pillows against the headboard with her feet in his lap.

“Come on. Tell me.”

“Alright. French.”

“Really? I thought you didn’t like the french?”

“Non sense, Duncan. I love the french.”

With a mischievous grin he tickles her foot. She pulls her leg away with a laugh.

“Not fair. I won a foot massage...” she chides.

“Yes ma’am.” He says still smiling as she gingerly places her foot back in his lap so he can continue her hard won reward. The barge was peaceful and she was beginning to get drowsy. Putting her head on one hand, she snuggled down farther into the pillows as her eyes become heavy.

“I could get used to this,” she says with a contented sigh.

“Seriously, Amanda, why do you like to play games?”

“Games? Isn’t that what we all do?”

“You know what I mean,” he says softly.

She sighs again, “Don’t you ever get tired of being yourself?”

“Do you ever get tired of me?” he returns lightly.

She smiles, crinkling her nose at him. “No,” she replies quickly, then continues with a small shrug, “I’ve been me for so long, sometimes it’s just nice to be someone else for a while.” She takes another sip of wine, her eyes distant as she asks quietly, “Do you ever get tired of me?”

His hands stop and he says nothing. Amanda keeps her eyes on her wine, as if it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing she had ever held. Duncan moves up the bed and leans forward and uses one hand to lift her face towards his.

“Never,” he says solemnly then kisses her with such unexpected passion it takes her breath away. He pulls back and she smiles brightly but says nothing.

Finally, he breaks the intense silence, “When you said french... you meant ‘The Countessa’, didn’t you?”

“I do make a convincing royal, no?” she asks innocently.

“You’re royal alright...” he replies with a wicked grin.

She pouts for a moment but Duncan ignores it and kisses her again.

“Duncan? The line is moving,” Kierna says quietly, one hand on his forearm and curiosity in her brown eyes. He smiles and moves forward.

“Where were you just now?” she asks after a moment.

“Paris. 1997.”

She smiles, “Amanda?”

He turns, stunned, “Yes. How…?” he sighs, “You knew Amanda.”

“Briefly. We had a few… hobbies in common,” she says cryptically.

His shock is replaced by wariness, “Hobbies?” he says with an arched brow, “Is that what you call this?”

“A girl likes to have fun, Duncan,” she replies airily.

He smiles, feeling for the first time since he had woken up that he was on familiar ground, “I’ll bet.”

Part 17 ~ Down Below

2005-06-26T17:54:00.000-07:00

The old man moved faster the Joe would have thought. A few times he worried they had lost him in the crowd and just as the frustration began building to a boiling point he would spot him again and the pursuit would continue. Elizabeth was keeping pace next to him silently until their quarry got onto a lift.

“Damn. Were going to lose him!” Joe says through clenched teeth.

“No we aren’t,” Lochley says impatiently then begins to dig through the ornamental clutch purse she had brought with her.

“Lose your lipstick?” Joe says with a touch of sarcasm. She ignores him and pulls our her COMM link.

“This is Lochley. Lift 7 on Blue Sector, just leaving the promenade, has it stopped?”

A tinny voice responds immediately. “No ma’am.”

“Tell me when it does and in what sector.”

“Acknowledged,” came the crisp reply.

“Handy,” Joe says with a smirk.

“Mmm hmm,” is all she says as she catches his hand in hers and heads towards the same lift entrance their mysterious stranger had used.

“Isn’t this one gone already?” Joe asks, puzzled.

“There is more then one car per shaft. They are on a continuous cycle. More efficient that way.”

“Oh,” is all he can say as they wait. Within moments the doors open again.

“Captain Lochley. The lift stopped Down Below.”

“Acknowledged.” she replies absently, then mutters in resignation, “Down Below. Of course.”

Joe asks with a sigh,“Problem?”

She responds without turning to face him, “I’m not wearing the right shoes for this.”

_________

After they had disembarked the lift, Joe was easily turned around in the twisting corridors. Lochley seemed to know where she was going, so he let her lead him through the empty hallways that were strewn with debris and cast off goods.

“Nice station you have here,” he mutters to himself and to his surprise she whirls on him angrily, “Think you can do better?”

“No... no. Sorry. No offense.”

“This situation is one I inherited from the previous two commanders of this station,” she says fiercely, the concedes, “ not that they could have done anything more then they did about it. We try to make this station a safe environment for everyone that comes here, but...” her voice falters as she searches for the right words.

Before she can continue, Joe offers quietly, “Even Rome had it’s slums.”

She eyes him speculatively, but says nothing in response.

“We should get moving,” Joe says after a moment, despite an overwhelming and sudden urge to lean in close and kiss her.

She steps back suddenly, and he wonders briefly if she had had the same thought.

“This way,” she turns and takes the lead again.

“Where are we going by the way?”

“Down here people make room for themselves were ever they can. And the best places are along the water and power lines because of the heat they give off and because they can siphon off just enough of both to live. This section was never meant to be for habitation so the shielding isn’t as strong here against the cold. When we say Down Below, what we really mean is Up Top. Closest to the hull of the station. And where the people are, unregistered commerce is. Food, black market medicines. There are even a few bars down here.”

“Wow. Maybe my initial reaction was a bit hasty.”

She slows as they enter a widening of the corridor and make shift shelters are fitted into every nook and cranny of the stations structure. “Most of these people came here searching for a new life. Thinking a job would be available when they got here. Usually there isn’t one and they don’t have enough to go back home, so they stay here. Trapped.”

Joe makes a face mixed with sympathy and recognition. “I can relate.”

“We could round up every single being down here and give them all passage home, and with in a week this place would be filled up again.”

“Why do they keep coming?”

“Hope,” she says simply with out turning or slowing down.

They continue past the shelters to a hub of activity where several corridors came together. Make shift stalls with fabric for walls lined both sides of the widest corridor. People moved back and forth, some with purpose, others with what Joe could only describe as boredom. Some shuffled along uncertainly and Joe speculated that they must be the latest come and a moment of pity overcomes him.

“But why are we here?” Joe asks with a bit of impatience.

“No one comes Down Below with out passing through here. And no one comes Down Below with out a reason.”

She moves to a stall with mismatched red striped curtains for walls and steps underneath the one that had been tied back. As Joe moves in behind her, she pulls the fabric down, concealing them and the “stores” only other occupant.

“Hello Jayce,” she says to the man’s back. Joe can see his shoulders freeze at the sound of her voice and then relax.

He turns with arms held up high, “Captain Lochley! So good of you to come! If I had known I would have spruced things up for you!” His smile was wide, but does not reach his eyes.

“Sure Jayce. I would have appreciated that. We’re looking for someone.”

“Naturally,” he says with a sly smile.

Joe describes him quickly, “Tall, blonde, piercing blue eyes. He’s in his 50s or there abouts,”

“No name?” The man asks mockingly.

“Knock it off Jayce. Know him?”

“And if I did....” he leaves the thought unfinished, but smiles wide once again.

“I’ll look the other way the next time you get a shipment in,” Lochley says shortly.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Really?”

“No. Who is he and where is he?”

His smile falters and his eyes become calculating. Realizing he would get nothing from her this time he gives in, “He goes by the name of Cage. Says he wants to help people down here. Been here about a month. Started a weekly sermon down the next corridor. Got himself a passel of followers too.”

“Great. Just what this place needs,” Lochley says darkly.

“What?”

“Missionaries. So what’s his real story?”

“Don’t know. He takes people in and tells them stories. In return, they bring him things.”

“Stories?”

“Of doing the ‘right thing’ and all that nonsense.”

“Right thing?”

“Yeah, purifying the galaxy and all that. Bet he was a member of Home Guard before Sheridan cleaned them outta Earth. Must not have anywhere else to go.” Jayce shrugs.

Joe looks at Lochley, “Home Guard?”

She gives him a strange look but turns back to Jayce.

“Thanks.”

He shrugs again and waves her off dismissively. “Now, can I get back to business? You’re costing me money with that curtain down.”

“It doesn’t hurt to let people think you have it in good with the Captain.”

“Yes it will,” he says absently and turns back to what he had been doing before they entered.

Joe and Elizabeth step back into the corridor and she moves in the direction Jayce had indicated.

“Home Guard? What the hell is that?”

She looks at him again with that puzzle expression, “You really don’t know?”

“No.”

“Xenophobes that tried to take over Earthgov and ‘remove’ any alien influence. Sheridan and his forces defied President Clark and later recaptured Earth from those loyal to Clark.”

“When did all this happen?” Joe asks, stunned.

“A little over 5 years ago. How could you not know about all of that?”

“I was busy?”

She rolls her eyes, then stops. “That must be it.”

Joe looks up at a larger curtained off area with bright lights inside. He can see many people standing around the opening of the curtains and those unlucky enough to be in the back are standing on tiptoe and moving back and forth to see over the heads of those in front of them.

“Looks like he has a good crowd,” Joe says quietly.

He looks over at Elizabeth and is puzzled by her grim expression, but before he could ask her about it the same sensation that had overcome him at Fresh Air siezed him. He brings his hands up to his head and looks up to see the crowd that a moment ago had been turned away from them now facing him and moving aside to let someone pass. Cage stepped out with his eyes locked on Joe. Stopng a few feet in front of them he smiles, "I thought I knew everyone in the game."

_______

"You don't seem surprised to see me?" Joe asks, confused and trying not to let it show.

"No." Cage sighs. "I figured someone would come to Babylon 5 eventually.
Everyone does it seems."

"Shall we talk inside?" Lochley says suddenly feeling out of place. Cage hadn't taken his eyes off Joe since he had stepped out of his 'quarters.' Something was between them, she knew it. What she couldn't help but wonder was whether or not Joe knew what it was.

"I don't see the point in dragging this out," Cage responds but doesn't take his eyes off Joe. He steps to the side and holds out one hand in the direction of an abandoned corridor. Suddenly Joe didn't care who this man was or what he knew about him. He did not want to follow him down that hall.

Instead however, he tilted his head in ascent and says, "After you."
It all seemed familiar, this dance, but he didn't know where it would lead and that made him very nervous.

Cage raised an eyebrow in query as both Joe and Elizabeth move to follow him.

"There is to be no audience. You know this," Cage says with a hint of disapproval.

"My station," Lochley says shortly. Cage looks at Joe who shrugs. Cage says nothing and continues on.

All three move silently down the hallway until it widens three times in size. The pipes that had so far been brushing Joes head moved upward suddenly giving the area a cavernous feel. Cage moves to the farthes end of the 'room' and turns to face Joe, "Before we begin, can I at least have your name?"

"You don't know it?" Joe asks in surprise.

"I didn't use to care to know the names, but I guess I'm getting sentimental now that the end is near."

End of what? He seemed to know me, but now he wants my name? What the hell is going on?

Joe decides to play along, "I'm called Joe Dawson."

"Pleased to meet you Joe," is all Cage says then reaches behind him and pulls out a blade. Joe is stunned, but a part of his brain can't help but wonder, Where did that come from?, as he steps back with his hands raised.

"I just wanted to talk," Joe says quickly, "Nothing else. I don't want trouble."

Cage stalks forward and begins to circle Joe, face expressionless. "None of us want trouble. But the game must end," Cage replies cryptically.

"Game? What game?"

That got a response. For a moment Cage stops. Behind him, Joe can hear Lochley speaking into her COMM and he wonders how far security is from where they were. He didn't see any on the way down. Could he stall Cage that long?

"The Game!" Cage roars and any hopes of stalling were dashed by a headlong charge.

Part 16 ~ The Date

2005-06-05T20:33:00.000-07:00

Joe stands in the doorway of his bedroom, looking anxious. “The green or the black?” he asks, holding up two shirts.

“Green,” Lindsey replies, enjoying his nervous disposition, “It’s more friendly.”

“Right,” he mutters, “Friendly,” and he walks back into his room. The suites Marcus had gotten them were much bigger then she imagined they would be. Rangers are an interstellar agency, but they don’t have infinite funds. She sits back on the couch in the living area and smiles to herself as she hears Joe muttering about his shoes.

“You are such a girl!” she hollers and was rewarded with another set of curses. She laughs again.
“Will you calm down? Its just dinner!”

“I know,” he hollers back, his voice muffled and she imagines it was through the shirt as he pulls it over his head. A moment later, he stands in the doorway, looking sheepish. “But it has been a long time since I’ve been on a date.”

“Date? Is that what this is?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Lindsey laughs again, and then tries to sound conciliatory. “Oh, come on Joe. I’m kidding. Stop being such a worrywart. You’ll do fine.”

“Fine,” he sighs, “right. She’s the commander of a 5-mile station, famous throughout the galaxy, and I’m a guy that was the Captain of a mining ship who is now in the custody of Rangers and has no memory of my life beyond the last decade. She’ll love me.”

“Well... you have the ‘mystery man’ thing going for you.” she offers.

“Ha ha.”

“Look. She said yes. From what I’ve heard about Captain Lochley, that in itself is odd. She must like you.... or at least be really curious.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

___________

He stands outside the doorway to the restaurant, trying to calm his heart before making his entrance. He was hoping that she wasn’t even there yet, but better to be on the safe side. Ignoring the curious glances of those passing by he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then moves towards the door.

“May I help you?”

“I have a reservation for two. Dawson.”

“Right this way. You’re guest has already been seated.”

Great. She’s early. Keep her waiting, Joe. Good move, he scolded himself, but lost all thoughts as the maitre’d moves aside and he catches his first glimpse of her. Gone was the severe woman he had meet earlier. The uniform of an Earth Force Captain was replaced by an emerald green spaghetti strapped dress, revealing well toned arms. He regretted momentarily not insisting that he escort her from her quarters to the restaurant so he could have seen the full effect of the dress on her body, but the tantilizing mystery of it was almost as good.

She smiles when she sees the stunned look on his face. “I’m early,” she says as he sits down.

"You're beautiful," he says quietly.

He is pleasantly surprised to see her blush at his bluntness as she replies, "I believe this is when I say 'this old thing?' as if I had gone through no effort at all for tonight."

"False humility doesn't seem to be your style."

"Oh?" she says with one brow raised in challenge, "And what is?"

"Promptness." he replies with a grin. She laughs and he continues, "honesty, order, and I would bet you have an overdevelped sense of responsibility."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. It's a failing of all captains."

"Yourself included?"

"I have no failings," he says with another grin.

"I see false humility isn't your style either."

His reply is interupted by the waiter that has moved to their table to take their drink orders.

"Beer please," Joe says absently, his eyes still on hers.

"And for you Captain Lochley?"

"Water."

"Very good," the waiter replies, as waiters have for centuries. He places two menus on the table and leaves to fill their order.

"No drinking on the first date, Captain?" Joe asks as casually as he can.

"Elizabeth," she replies then continues, "and 'No' a lot of things on the first date."

"Careful," Joe says slowly, "I might take that as a challenge."

She laughs again in surprise at his boldness. It was not something she was accustomed to given her status as the commanding officer of the Babylon Station.

She leans forward and places her chin in her hand. "Well Joe, I think this is the part where you tell me about yourself."

A wave of resignation passes over his face, but was gone quickly and she had to convince herself she had even seen it.

He looks down for a moment, fingering the menu before looking up at her again.

"Not much to say," he replies vaguely.

"I thought we agreed humility wasn't your style."

He tries to smile, then leans forward. "Honestly, there isn't much to say. Mostly because I can't remember."

"Can't remember?"

"Nothing before ten years ago. Since then, I've wandered a bit, working, till I got enough money for my own mining ship. For the past six years I've been working the astroids in the Petros Makrinos System. It isn't luxurious, but it's mine.” He pauses and then corrects himself, “Was mine.”

"Was?" her curiousity was piqued, as well as alarm bells. He could sense her pulling away, even though she hadn't physically moved. He curses inwardly as the spell that had been cast when he first arrived had been broken by the truth of his situation.

"Drazi ships destroyed my vessel with my entire crew on board," he explains quickly, leaving out that the ships turned out the be devoid of pilots and had been controlled by one larger ship the Rangers assumed was manned by allies of The Hand.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

He continues as if he hadn't heard her, "I'm only alive because the Rangers showed up before the Drazi got there and hauled me off my own ship."

"Why?"

"They haven't said yet. But since I'm not in irons on board their White Star, I can assume I am not wanted for anything I have done," then he adds, "I hope."

She sits back, frowning. "The Rangers have learned too much from the Minbari I think."

He looks up, "How so?"

"Vagueness, half truths..."

"You don't sound like a fan."

She waves her hand dismissively. "It isn't that. The Rangers do good work, but sometimes they forget that they aren't the secret society they once were. The small band on the look out for the next big evil to come."

"No?"

She looks at him, questioningly. "You disagree?"

"I'm beginning too. What if they still are just that? Watching for the next threat to the galaxy?"

"You?"

He laughs. "That's a little too ambitions for me!"

"But you think you could be involved?"

"Or I know something about the next threat. Something I can't remember."

Their conversation is interupted again by the waiter returning with the drinks.

"Are you ready to order?" he asks. Joe looks at her with a raised brow, allowing her to decide.

She nods her head and says, "I think we might be here a while Joe. We should eat."

Lindsey may have been right. It may have been the Captains curiosity that convinced her to go out with me tonight. He relaxes and smiles. He didn't mind though.

____________

Diner was eaten mostly in silence. Her eyes weren't focused on what was in front of her, and he knew she was ruminating on what had been said earlier. He enjoyed watching her think as they sat through three courses of the best the restaurant had to offer. Finally, over desert, she begins to pepper him with questions about what he had been doing for the past ten years. He gives detailed answers, some more poetic then true, and glosses over the things he knew she migh disaprove of given her status as an Earth Force officer.

"What made you decide on astroid mining?"

"It's peaceful," he replies around a small bit of cheesecake.

"Peaceful?" she aks, surprised. "Really?"

"Oh yes. Sure the ship was small, but I spent most of my time on the bridge or in my cabin pouring over star maps. In a way it made me feel connected even way out there."

"How so?"

"The stars! Every civilization can see them. And so far, every civilization has dreamed of moving among them. Who knows who might be looking at the very star system I was in with wonder and curiosity... and there I am in my little ship looking back."

"I never thought of it that way before," she says slowly.

"I suspect you had other more important things on your mind. Responsibilities, duty, orders. The safety of everyone on this station is your domain. Not much room for woolgathering."

"For what?"

"Woolgathering. It's an expression.... I heard.... somewhere." he frowns, lost in thought, trying to grasp at the memory. She sits in silence till he gives up and looks at her and smiles wryly.

"That must be very frustrating."

Before he can respond, and odd sensation grips him. Insinctively he looks around as if searching for the source.

"Joe? What is it?"

His eyes lock with another man as he passes by the restaurant, and it seems to Joe that he should know him. Elizabeth turns in her chair to follow his gaze, "Friend of yours?"

"I don't think so," he says slowly. "He looked as if he recognized me, but he didn't stop..." And without another word, Joe stands up and begins to follow. Elizabeth does the same.

"No... I don't think you should come."

"Are you really going to tell me where I can't go on my own station?" she asks, her voice reverting to that of a Captain. He looks at her, then smiles sheepishly.

"Of course not. I'm sorry."

She ignores his apology, "Come on. We're going to loose him."

Part 15 ~Origen's Moon

2005-05-11T09:21:00.000-07:00

Kierna sat at the controls of the Juvat as they navigated the last of their journey in hyperspace. Duncan sat in the seat next to her trying not to focus on the swirling blood red and black that had been their only scenery for the last few days, but the thought of jumpgates, as she called them, and space travel was too enticing to sit in the back and not observe.

As she kept her eyes on the readings in front of her she said reflectively, “Some say the only things in common with all civilized societies are war and gambling. Although it seems to be true, I haven’t figured out why that is. Maybe because war is inevitable among those with strong wills, and gambling because for the infinite potential of any beings, there will always be someone to wager on the outcome... or it’s just laziness. I haven’t decided which.”

“Given it a lot of thought have you.” he says with a half smile.

She shrugs her shoulders, “Been involved with too much of both, that’s all.”

“You gamble?”

“I’m a mercenary,” she replies with a slight smile, “I do it every day.”

For a moment he looks chagrinned, remembering their first few moments together, but says instead, “I can’t believe that is all that is common among civilized societies.”

“No?”

“If there’s war, there must be times of peace.”

She gives a short laugh, “Peace is just the prelude to another conflict.”

“Didn’t think you would be such a cynic.”

“I’m old Duncan. Of course I am.”

“But you don’t give up, do you?” he counters.

She smiles again, “Nope. I’m also set in my ways.”

“Stubborn you mean.”

“Whatever works. We’re almost there.”

He sits up, eager to be out of hyperspace.

He watches as the blood red eddies and swirls split open onto a field of stars and the ship plunges into the dark of normal space. With the perspective of the planets to guide by, Duncan finally gets a sense of the speeds they had been traveling at as the ship moves into the system. She begins slowing down near a large moon that revolves around a dead but fiery planet. Its surface is dark; with rivers of fire visible and the occasional flare of a volcano spewing it’s molten contents on the battered ground. Despite the turmoil it displays on the surface, Duncan can’t help but think how beautiful it is.

“Stunning, no?” she asks, startling him with the similarity of thought.

He looks over at her, “It is.”

“It’s the beginning. That’s what Earth looked like once upon a time. Fire and darkness.”

They watch in silence as the ship veers towards the moon. Unlike the planet, the moons surface is covered with signs of life. Lights of thousands of windows winked up at them and he can see hundreds of smaller ships moving back and forth among the buildings.

“He’s done well for himself.” Kierna mutters, taking it all in.

“Who?”

“Origen. He owns this moon... and he thinks that includes everyone on it.”

“You’ve meet before,” Duncan states, casting her a worried glance.

“Yep. He was a handler for Earth Force. One of the men responsible for keeping us in line when we were in their... care.”

Duncan’s brow furrows further in concern. “Are you going to be able to do this?”

She looks up at him, surprised. “Worried?”

“Of course I am,” he says softly.

“I can handle it,” she says shortly, and then tries to reassure him with a smile, “but thanks.”

He isn’t convinced, but he decides to let it go and asks instead, “So, what’s the plan?”

“Go in, find the children, and get out.”

He sighs.

“What?”

“What if there is another immortal? What then?”

“I don’t think we’ll have to worry. If this is a trap, you’ll get your chance to do your thing.”

“My thing?”

She slices the air with her hand, neck high.

He sighs again.

“Look. I know Origen. He still thinks of us as the children he had cowed. Thinks he can push our buttons the way he used to and we’ll dance for him. The longer we let him think that, the easier it will be to get out of there without tearing the place apart. So... I’ll go in like a wounded mad women bent on getting my revenge and you’ll have free run of the surface. He won’t interfere with you. That’s someone else’s job... and those rules you know.”

“You’re seriously going to go up against this guy alone?”

She smiles, “I’m val’den’kai. I’m never alone.”

Before he can argue further, she moves past him, back into the common area. Lifting the cushions of one couch, she pulls out a long, round case with leather buckles along the side. After righting the cushions once again, she places it on the couch and opens the black case and steps aside, revealing the contents.
He stands for a moment, staring inside, then slowly moves forward. Placing his hand on the familiar dragon headed hilt, he pulls his katana from the case, reverently.

His eyes move down the blade, then up at her.

“Never thought you would see that again, did you?” she asks, head cocked to one side.

“No.”

“The Watchers kept that for you too.”

He focuses again on the blade then asks after a moment, “What else of mine do they have?”

She smiles again, but doesn’t answer him, “Come on. We should eat before we go to the surface, and it could take hours before we are allowed to dock anyhow.”

“Hours?”

“Yeah,” she says moving towards the ‘kitchen’, and says mockingly, “The security here is a real pain... They won’t let just anybody down there. That would be dangerous.”

Another view of the DB Cooper story.

2005-04-29T13:26:00.000-07:00

Seattle 1971

Amanda sits on the opposite side of an industrial green metal table from two detectives. Her hands are wrapped around a Styrofoam cup of coffee trying to keep the chill from them as she says petulantly, “Look, I told you everything I know. Can I go home now please? It’s Thanksgiving.”
“We know ma’am,"the lead investigator says, "We’d like to go home too, but you’re the last person to see Dan Cooper alive. We have to make sure you’re not forgetting anything.”
“What could I forget? He handed me a note, demanded 200,000 dollars and four parachutes, then he jumped from the plane. Crazy if you ask me. No one could survive a jump like that.”
“Let’s just go over it again. You said he handed you a note,” he prompts.
Amanda replies tiredly, “Yes.”
“What did you do with it?”
“I put it in my pocket.”
The second investigator asks suddenly, “Why?”
“I thought he was hitting on me,” she says indignant.
“Alright, then what?”
“When he saw I didn’t look at it he said ‘you should read the note. I have a bomb.’ then he opened the case on his lap.”

Northwest Flight 305

“You should read the note, I have a bomb,” the slight man in seat 18C said.
Pulling out the slip of paper, Amanda reads then steps back. Without a word she moves to the front of the plane and grabs the other stewardess by the arm, “We have a problem,” she says.

Two hours later, after the plane had been cleared of all the passengers and the rest of the crew, Amanda takes her seat at the front of the plane. From the cockpit she can hear the radio crackle.
“Flight 305 requesting permission to taxi.”
“Roger Flight 305. Permission granted to begin your approach.”
The plane lurches forward and soon is in the air. After it’s ascent has leveled off, Amanda grabs hold of the four parachutes Cooper had requested and begins dragging them down the aisle.
“It’s all here!” Cooper says with excitement.
“Calm down,” Amanda says, arranging the chutes.
“I can’t believe how easy that was!” he says, his enthusiasm unabated. She shuffles the four chutes, handing him two that were to be cut and used to secure the money during the jump. After he finished, she holds up another chute. “Turn around,” she says casually.
He doesn’t move.
“I’ll help you with it,” Amanda says impatiently.
“Wait... what’s this?” he demands, pointing to a black X on the fabric.
“What? I don’t know.”
“This is a faulty chute! You’re trying to double cross me!”
“What? No.”
“I ain’t stupid. I fall to my death and before I wake up, you take off with the money!”
“Don’t be silly. Put it on!”
Instead, he pulls out a gun from his bag and without another word, shoots Amanda in the chest, killing her instantly.
Ten minutes later, Amanda can hear the night air as it fills the cabin, and realizes he is gone... with the money.
“Damn it!”

Seattle

“What was in it?” the investigator asks.
Amanda shakes her head, trying to focus. "What?"
"The case. What was in it?"
“A. Bomb.”
“Are you sure?”
“How should I know? It had wires and cylinders and it looked..." she pauses, caught up in a sensation all to familiar, but regains her composure quickly, "explosive.”
The investigators’ next question is interrupted by a knock at the door. One man moves to open it while the first sits, still facing Amanda.
"Mind if I ask a few questions of the lady?" a mild southern drawl asks.
Amanda looks up and smiles. My my my, isn't he a pretty one? She thinks to herself as the immortal enters the room. As polite as any southern gentlemen, he excuses the two local detectives, at the same time pulling rank while being careful not to insult them.
He doesn't look at her until the detectives have both gone and the door is shut.
Reaching out slowly, he turns off the tape recorder.
"They aren't listening," he says, then asks, "Mina, is it?"
"For now," Amanda replies with another smile. Finally, he makes eye contact and she lifts one eyebrow in silent query. Do we take this outside later? He shakes his head slightly.
"Who was he?"
"A passenger."
He reads from the file then says slowly, "Dan Cooper.” Pulling out a pen, he begins writing, then making lines, keeping the folder tilted towards him. "I've been looking for him for a long time. A long time." He looks up at her significantly and she sighs.
Figures. "Did he steal your girl? Your money?" she asks, and then rolls her eyes. "Men. Always about vendetta. Revenge. Justice. Whatever."
Ignoring her taunts, he asks calmly, "How long have you two been working together?"
"I just met him a few months ago. He tracked me down in a small town a few miles from Seattle."
"Snoqualmie,” McCormick reads, then looks up, “Sounds pleasant. Quaint. Sight seeing were you?" he asks lightly.
"Hardly."
"You don't seem the type to settle in small towns Amanda. Who were you hiding from?"
"I'm not hiding fro...How did you know my name?"
"Panzer."
"Who?"
"He's in Aruba. Looking for someone that stole all of his money..."
Amanda sits quietly for a moment, then leans forward, nose crinkled, "How do you know where Panzer is?"
McCormick leans in close, almost touching noses with her and says slowly, pausing between each letter, "F. B. I. I have friends there, and all the resources at the Bureau come in handy," he pulls back with a smile, "Maybe in my next life, I'll give them a try."
"Isn't that a bit risky for someone in our,” she pauses, then says with emphasis, “particular circumstances?"
He looks up at her and replies sincerely, "Justice is worth it."
Oh, Duncan would love this guy, she thinks to herself. She rolls her eyes again and sits back. "Fine. Fine. What do you want from me?"
"You tell me everything about this 'Dan Cooper', and I will keep Panzer off your trail"
"He's in Aruba. He's pretty much 'off my trail'."
"I'll make sure it stays that way."
She chews her lip, considering. An instinct she had come to trust about men told her he wasn't lying. If she did what he asked, he would keep Panzer away. Besides, what did she owe this Dan Cooper anyhow? He shot her! Her brows furrow in anger at the thought. Decision made, she looks up, "I'll need a map,” and then adds quickly, noting his eagerness, “But there is a condition."
He stops and looks at her, then asks slowly, "What condition?"
"I want out of here. I was just an innocent bystander who got caught up in a bad situation. A loyal employee of the airline who is just happy to be alive and looking forward to a few days off over the holiday. Agreed?"
"You helped hijack a plane!" he protests.
"Agreed?" she repeats, looking him straight in the eye, "or Cooper gets away."
Reluctantly McCormick agrees, and pulls out a map from a pocket inside his jacket. Carefully unfolding it, he spreads it across the table. Before he has it all smoothed out, Amanda jabs it with her finger in the midst of Washington State Park. "There. We left a car here hoping to jump with in five miles of it. It's out of the way, but easy to navigate too once on the ground."
"How?"
"It's at the beginning of the lake, where the river comes into it. No matter where you are in the forest, you find the shore line and follow it."
McCormick stands, folding the map and packing up his files.
"What about me?"
"You'll stay here, answer a few more questions, and I am sure they will release you as a cooperative witness of this shocking crime,” he smiles, “Eventually."
Resisting the urge to stick her tongue out, she asks instead, "So who is he to you? Really?"
Instead of replying, he slides a folder across the desk and opens it. On the top sheet, she sees what he had been writing before. In the detectives handwriting was the name ‘Dan Cooper’. In McCormick’s eloquent script with lines matching letter for letter was another name. ‘Conrad Poe’.
Her eyes go wide in recognition, "Really?" she asks, and McCormick nods in ascent.

Santa Clara Valley, newly formed town of Newhall, 1876
The Derrick Saloon

Conrad Poe was breathing hard after the altercation, and stood over Jacob Hoss who was nursing a bloody nose. "Now, you take that back Jacob Hoss, or I'll break more then your nose."
"No. You’re a liar and a cheat!"
Poe grabs the defiant man by the collar and pulls him up to eye level.
"I warned you," he says coldly then throws then man back against the bar.
"You two take this outside! I got customers!" the barkeep yells, in a vain attempt to keep the peace.
"Good idea," Poe says with a grin and shoves the man out the doors and onto the street of the newly formed town. Following with intent, Conrad pursues Jacob as her runs down the empty street towards the newly built Newhall Elementary School, hoping someone in the school would be more inclined to help him against Poe. He was known for his temper, and today, Jacob made the mistake of testing it, but he refused to back down.
Faintly, from ahead of him, Jacob can hear people singing hymns.
"Thank you Lord," he whispers and hurries his steps, but before he can make it to the small building, a sharp blow to the head forces him down. Once on the ground, he turns onto his back and sees Conrad standing above him, holding a piece of wood.
"You're a liar Conrad! I won't take that back!" he yells in defiance. Conrad swings again, knocking Jacob unconscious.
A crowd of Parishioners gathered on the steps of the school, drawn by the commotion. An elderly pastor sees Conrad swing on the defenseless man and shouts for his flock to seize him. They do so, as others saw to Jacob and move him inside the schoolhouse, but he dies within moments. Angrily, the pastor turns to the bound Conrad and points one boney finger at him.
"You shall pay for this sin in hell!" The crowd of parishioners growl as one in agreement. "Take him to Placerita Creek Bridge. We'll hang this sinner there!" Immediately his orders are followed, but instead of struggling or begging forgiveness as the pastor had hoped, Conrad starts to laugh.
"Go ahead old man! You're god doesn't want me yet." Sneering and laughing, they cart Conrad off.
Once on the wagon, the pastor leans in close to Conrad, whispering in his ear so his flock can not hear, “I’ll hang you as many times as I need to, demon. The devil has to take you sometime.”
Conrad turns to look at the old man, and then suddenly recognized his face.

1849 Hangman’s Oak

The young pastor stood facing the gathered crowd of good citizens as they had come to witness the execution of the seven bandits that had been terrorizing them for the past several months. Among the condemned, Conrad Poe stands with a noose around his neck. The pastor reads from his bible as the crowd stands with heads bowed. Once finished, the pastor steps aside as the leading man of the newly formed vigilante committee steps forward.
“Today, justice will be done.” the man proclaims proudly. “Today, we send a message to those that would prey on our community, that we will not tolerate their evil ways.”
As the crowd listens, one child steps forward next to the pastor and stares up at Conrad Poe, while munching on an apple. “But pastor, what about their gold?”
“There is no gold son.” the pastor replies.
“Sure there is boy. Lots of it. Tell ‘em to let me lose and I’ll show you where it is.”
The boy looks at the pastor, his eyes full of hope.
“No son. Don’t listen to him.”
“Gold bullion. As pretty a thing as you’ll ever see Jacob Hoss. I’ll split it with ya.”
Before anything else can be said, the pastor grabs the boy by the wrist and walks him back to his parents. Jacob turns to look back at the condemned man, just in time to see the stool kicked out from underneath him.

Placerita Creek Bridge

As a noose is tied to the handrail of the wooden bridge, Conrad Poe stands calmly awaiting his fate, until he feels it. Another immortal is coming.
“Untie me preacher!” he commands, but he is ignored. Desperation grips him as he realizes the precariousness of his position.
Just as they are about to push the struggling immortal over, horse hooves can be heard riding at a hard clip. Conrad strains to see who it was that is coming for him, but the crowd that is around him blocks his view. All he can hear iss a voice as the rider stops as he nears the band of vigilantes.
“Release him. Now,” the immortal commands with a gentle southern drawl.
“No can do Sheriff Howe. This man is a murderer.” one of the parishioners replies.
“And he will be tried in Los Angeles for his crimes.”
“We have already judged him. He will hang.”
Conrad can hear the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. “I said, release him.”
“Sheriff, would you really shoot one of my flock?” the pastor asks.
“I will shoot any man who believes he is above the law. Including you pastor. Release him to me,” then he adds more softly, “Justice will be served. I promise.”
Reluctantly, the crowd does as they are told.
Without acknowledging the immortal, the Sheriff turns his horse and leads the parishioners and their prisoner back to town.

Conrad Poe sits with his legs chained, bound to the same oak tree he had been hung from 27 years earlier. Despite his immortality, he shudders at the thought of that day. As the buzz of another immortal rings through his head, he turns to the sheriff that had saved him from another hanging.
“John Howe,” he says mockingly, “Sheriff.”
The sheriff does not respond.
“So. When are we gonna do this sheriff? You gonna let me loose tonight so I can take your head?”
“No. You are going to Los Angeles to be tried for murder.”
Conrad stares at the other immortal in disbelief. Then he laughs, “You’re serious!” He laughs again, “This must be my lucky day!”
“Yes it is, but make no mistake, Poe, you will be tried in Los Angeles. You will be found guilty of murder. You will pay the penance for that crime. Then, I will come for you.”
Conrad stops laughing.
“What for?”
“Justice.”
Conrad shakes his head. “I don’t get you mister. But all right. I can wait to take your head. I look forward to it.”

1971 Washington State Park

The rain lashes at McCormick as he makes his way through the forest in the direction of the lake. His flashlight held before him was of little help in the downpour, but he continues on.
Over the sounds of the rain, he thinks he hears splashing and comes out of the trees on the shore of the lake and stands, trying to listen, when the sensation he was waiting for comes over him Poe! He was close.
He holds the flashlight up and swings it back and forth slowly over the water, his eyes straining to see through the downpour. About 30 yards out, he can see someone struggling in the water. The weight of the chutes and the money must be weighing him down, McCormick thinks to himself with a grin. Damn greedy fool.
He considers leaving him to struggle to shore on his own, but his impatience wins out. Taking off his overcoat and shoes, he dives into the water to rescue the floundering immortal.
Pulling him up onto shore, McCormick falls gasping for air. After a few moments, he gets back up and retrieves his broadsword from his coat. Sitting on a rock next to Poe, who is still breathing hard, McCormick sits down to wait.
“Dammit!” Poe says after a few moments. “I lost the money!”
“You won’t be needing it.” McCormick says from behind him.
Poe turns his head to look at the immortal that had once again rescued him. He begins to laugh. “What shall we do this time, sheriff? Wait for the authorities so I can be tried for the hijacking?”
“Not this time Poe. I’ve waited long enough. This time, I’m going to take your head.”
“Where is your sense of justice sheriff?” the other immortal taunts.
“How is this for justice? Even though you have spent your life, many lives, as a thief and a murderer, I’m going to let you catch your breath before I kill you.”
“I ain’t no murderer. I did my time for Hoss.”
“And for the preacher?”
Poe smiles, “Oh. Forgot about him.”

1881 Newhall

The elderly pastor shuts the door of the newly built church behind him and then steps into the night air. Proud of his church, he pats the doors before turning to walk home. As he moves down the street, he hears a noise coming from the alley. Thinking it is one of his parishioners coming for counsel, he turns and calls out, “Step forward child.”
Conrad Poe steps out from the shadows, “Hello pastor.” he says with a smile.
The old man clutches his bible close, and then looks around.
“No one here pastor. Just you and me.”
The pastor takes a few steps back, “Stay away demon.”
“Can’t send me to your god alone, can you?” Poe taunts, moving forward slowly.
“Get back!” the pastor yells.
“You tried to hang me old man. I don’t like hanging.”
The pastor starts muttering under his breath, a prayer perhaps. Conrad rushes him, grabbing his cloak with one hand, pulling the old mans face close to his, “I really don’t like hangings,” then with a sudden movement, slices the pastor in the gut with a knife.
The pastor’s eyes go wide, and he slumps to the ground. “Guess you can say hi to your god for me, pastor.”
He stands over the body for a moment, gloating, when the tell tale sign of an immortal nearby seizes him. Looking up, he sees the sheriff at the end of the alley. Tipping his hat in greeting, Poe laughs, then turns and runs in the opposite direction.
Sheriff Howe runs to the body of the elderly pastor, and holds his head cradled in his lap as the last breath escapes him, with one word on his lips, “Demon.”

1971 Washington State Park

“Enough time. Stand up.” McCormick commands.
“I’m unarmed.” Poe says, grinning. “I don’t think you’re the type to take the head of an unarmed opponent. Am I right?”
“Yes,” McCormick says, then bends down to his coat and pulls out another sword. “But I thought of that.”
Tossing the other sword to Poe, McCormick steadies his footing in anticipation of the duel.
“Guess this isn’t my lucky day,” Poe says as he retrieves the sword, and then without another word, charges the other immortal, sword held high.

1971 Seattle

Amanda pulls on the collar of her coat as she waits for the driver to put her bags in the trunk when she feels the warning of another immortal.
“Going somewhere?” McCormick asks as he moves to stand next to her.
“I just need a change of scenery,” she replies lightly, “You know how it is.”
“Mmm hmm,” he replies, smiling, “Just stay away from Aruba.”
“I’ll remember that,” she says, then changes the subject, “Did you get your man?”
“Always,” he replies absently.
She studies his face for a moment then says, “So, you have been looking for him for over a century? Why?”
“He killed two men.”
“Oh,” was all she says. They stand in silence as the last of her bags are packed away.
Just as she is about to get into the cab, he says absently, “You didn’t think it was for the gold did you?”
She stops short and turns, “Gold? What gold?”
“Nah,” he says, then looks away and shrugs, “I don’t really think there is any.”
“But?”
“Conrad insisted he had some buried somewhere around Santa Clara Valley. Near Newhall.”
“Really?” Amanda asks trying to sound disinterested.
“Yes. He said the money from the plane was to fund another expedition. It’s too bad really. All that supposed gold just waiting to be found.”
“Yeah. Too bad,” she says absently.
He smiles at her as he can see her mind working, and then says brightly, “It was a pleasure to finally meet you Amanda. Take care of yourself.”
“Yes,” she says, flashing her best smile, but obviously still distracted, “ you too.”

Part 14 ~Detour

2005-04-25T09:13:00.000-07:00

Duncan paces the length of the cabin, “Could it be this hyperspace we are in?”

She shakes her head, “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Is it significant anyhow? You are a telepath, correct?”

She looks up at him, “No. I’m not,” then sighs, knowing this was the beginning of another long and complicated explanation, “Not with anyone other then my kind.”

“Val’den’kai?”

“Yep.”

He sits down, facing her, “I have a feeling this is a ‘tip of the iceberg’ kind of story.”

She smiles. He sighs.

After a few long moments, she has decided where to begin, “The Vorlons love order. Order and obedience. This wasn’t always the way. At one time, they believed in balance above all other things.”

“What does that have to do with what happened?” Duncan asks.

“Maybe nothing, but you should know this anyhow,” she says, then continues, “during their long... I guess you could call it, disagreement with the Shadows over how to keep watch of the younger races, the Vorlons began to tamper.”

“Tamper, how?”

“They created the telepaths in each of the four major races, Human, Minbari, Narn, and Centauri. They did this knowing that eventually, telepaths could be used against the Shadow weapons. The Shadows themselves were impervious to telepaths.”

She stands up and moves to a small cabinet at the far end of the small compartment. Opening a drawer, she pulls out an ancient looking book.

“This is the book of G’Qwan. He was a leader among the Narn about 1000 years ago, and a powerful telepath. He spoke out against the Shadows and in turn, the Shadows convinced the rest of the population to remove the telepaths, or ‘mindwalkers’ as they were known. Despite the best efforts by me and the Vorlons, they were successful.”

“You?”

She flips open the book to an illustration. In it are reptilian looking creatures and a few of what appear to be humans, but they are too pale. One woman among them is Kierna, looking regretful. Duncan looks from the picture to Kierna with a puzzled expression.

“That there was my first hint to what I thought was my purpose. My father, the man who raised me said he had named me after a Narn saint. Turns out, he named me after... me. A friend of mine, G’kar, showed me this a few years after I had arrived on Babylon 5. I knew at that moment what I had to do. So, I gathered the rest of the Val’den’kai, we struck a deal with the keeper of the Machine, and we headed back in time."

His eyebrows raise at how casually she mentions traveling through time, but he lets her continue, "I thought it was to help my real father, Jeffrey Sinclair, with the first Shadow War, and to put right a few injustices," she shrugs then says quietly, sadly, "I failed at most of them,” and then continues before Duncan can ask, “I got a few things right however.”

She smiles, and then sits back down, “but I’m getting off track. I tell you about the Narn because when their telepaths were destroyed, the Vorlons began to watch how telepaths were integrated into the societies of the other races. The Centauri accepted them easily enough, and the Minbari treated them with reverence. Humans however, were following the same path as the Narn, without Shadow interference. Those of the Vorlons that still followed the path of balance decided to again intervene.”

She pauses, taking a sip of water before continuing, but Duncan interrupts, “They created you,” has says bluntly.

She smiles, “Well. You’re more then a pretty face after all. Yes. They created us. They convinced some of the less moral factions of Earth Force that they could have their very own army of telepaths using Vorlon DNA. Naturally, the Vorlons were less then truthful, and yet they did not lie either. Using technology they had obtained during the Dilgar War and DNA from a select number of Earth Force enlistee’s, mostly without consent, Earth Force eagerly followed the Vorlons directions, with a few modifications. They figured, ‘why can’t we have augmented soldiers as well as telepaths’?”

Duncan sighs at their folly, and Kierna smiles.

“You would think that by now humanity would know better,” he says quietly.

“Yes, you would think, but they don’t. That’s the problem with short life spans. Each generation has to relearn what the previous already mastered. Anyhow, we were created, but they didn’t get telepaths, at least not in the way they thought. What they got instead was us. We can communicate with each other even over light years. I guess you could call it a communal consciousness. What one knows, we all know.”

“That must come in handy,” Duncan says, obviously impressed.

“More then you know,” she says with a grim smile, “but that wasn’t all. Something else the Vorlons built in was our ability to block any telepath. Even many of them at one time.”

“Block?”

“Yes. The general populace feared the telepaths on Earth. Invasion of privacy, thoughts open to scrutiny with out consent or knowledge. Telepaths were being cut off from the rest of humanity and that worried the Vorlons. If pushed, humanity could turn on them, destroying a valuable weapon against the Shadows. They weren’t going to allow that to happen again, so they figured if they gave humanity us, a way to combat the telepaths, then all would be integrated into society equally.”

“Didn’t work that way though, did it?”

“No. The alterations Earth Force made rendered it impossible, at least at first. After the Sheridan’s War with Earth, Val’den’kai have been widely employed to create telepath free zones. It’s easy money. And telepaths don’t mind actually. For the first time, they can move about freely without fear of retribution by the normals.”

“So, what does this have to do with me?”

“I’m not sure, but like I said, the Vorlons did like to tamper.”

After a moment Duncan asks in disbelief, “Do you think they made us?”

Kierna shrugs. “It isn’t outside the realm of possibility Duncan. You and I have more in common then I do with telepaths. I mean, how old are you? 600? How old do you look? About 30. I bet for a while you looked no older then your late 20s. I’m over 1000 years old. How old do I look? I have aged, but I do so much more slowly. I would wager that immortals also age, just so slowly that no one would notice. Maybe a beheading is a shortcut to an inevitable outcome.”

Duncan continues to stare at her, then says quietly, “But why?”

“Why are you here? That is the oldest question in the Universe Duncan. I can’t answer that, any more then you can. I thought my purpose was clear, until the Hand showed up. The telepaths were created to defeat the Shadows. Maybe the Val’den’kai were created for more then just balance. Maybe we are another set of weapons. Maybe you are.” she shrugs again.

Duncan shakes his head, frowning. He picks up the book she had left on the table and looks again at her image, hand drawn on the leather pages. He is about to ask another question when he notes her stiff posture. Her head is tilted and her eyes have gone obsidian. He can’t help but shudder, noting how alien she looks.

Without a word she stands and runs to the cockpit on the other side of curtains at the end of the room. He follows and pushes the curtain aside just in time to see her hands rapidly move over the console, altering course.

“We have to make a detour,” she says with a multitude of voices.

“Where?” he asks, as if he would recognize any location she gave him.

“A gaming moon in the Daleiron system,” she says, her voice once again singular.

“Why?”

“They have captured some Val’den’kai children,” she says angrily, without turning.

He is about to ask why that would matter, when the phrasing registers. Val’den’kai children. Not Warrior Children. It was subtle, but he knew there was a difference.

“They aren’t inducted into our collective consciousness yet. They are vulnerable,” she replies, confirming his thoughts, “It’ll only take us a day out of our way.”

“How can I help?”

“You can’t. But it doesn’t matter anyhow. I think someone is waiting for you on that moon.”

“An immortal?”

“Yes. I think that’s why they dared take our children.”

“A trap.”

“Yes.”

“For me.”

“And me. You’ve been in Sanctuary a long time. Even as an immortal, you aren’t yet back to top form.”

“Thanks,” Duncan says dryly.

She smiles, turning to face him. “You know what I mean. You aren’t ready yet to rejoin the Game. Someone knows this.”

“I’ll be ready,” he says with finality.

“I hope so Duncan. I really do.”

Part 13~ Babylon 5

2005-04-25T09:12:00.000-07:00

“You have one in mind already, don’t you?” Lindsey asks with one brow raised.

“Of course. I had a feeling this might happen, so I took the liberty of making other arrangements. She’ll meet us on Babylon 5.”

Surprised, Lindsey asks, “Lyta Alexander? How?”

“Maybe because I’m irresistible?” Marcus proposes.

Under her breath, Lindsey mutters, “Only to those who don’t know you well,” then asks while ignoring Marcus’s exaggerated pained expression, “How long till we get there?”

“Actually, just a few hours. And you, Sinclair, are on chaperone duty with our guest. If you are feeling up to it that is.”

“I’m fine,” she assures him.

“Umm… chaperone?” Joe asks, “Are you expecting more trouble?”

Marcus replies with a smile, “Always,”

The White Star emerged from the jump gate smoothly, and moved into position around the famous five-mile long station. Lindsey had only been there once, but it held a special place in her heart for a few reasons. One being that her Uncle had been the stations first commander and the second being that Babylon 5 was where she first considered leaving Earth Force and joining the Rangers, with some prodding by Marcus Cole.

Next to her Joe watches the station intently and she can see his eyes as they traced the contours of the station, halting briefly on the rotating mid section.

“It’s almost hypnotic, isn’t it?” she asks quietly.

Her question breaks his revere and he smiles in bemusement, “Yes. It is.”

“We’ll use a transport to dock and I’ll take you on a tour if you want?”

“I’d like that. I could use something to take my mind off…” he lets the sentence trail off, his eyes locked back onto the station. She places on hand on his shoulder in condolence.

“Me too.”

The station was it’s usual bustling center of activity and Lindsey took in the sounds with a smile. White Stars are quiet, sometimes too quiet. She looks up at Joe and notices his inquisitiveness about his surroundings, but was surprised to see something else- something calculating; and she wonders again at what kind of life he had lead before he lost his memory. Even without them, he had chosen a life on the fringes of the galaxy in places that people went to go unnoticed.

Marcus was ahead of them and had made it through the security gate and it was their turn in line when Joe stops short, his eyes focused on the greeting billboard.

“What is it?” Lindsey asks, alarmed.

“That woman… who is she?”

Lindsey looks up at the board. “Captain Lochley. She runs the station.”

“Oh,” Was all he replies as a strange look passes over his face, and then he shakes his head as if to clear it.

“Joe?”

He looks at her and smiles in reassurance. “I’m ok. Really. It’s like a de ja vu, but I can’t recall of what. It’s frustrating sometimes, that’s all.”

They offer their identi-cards to the guard and pass through with out incident and Lindsey catches Marcus’s eye as he waits for them. As they near, Marcus smiles.

“Tourists,” he says pushing away from the wall he had been leaning against and takes the lead through the throngs with out turning to see if they follow.

It was a short walk to the transport tubes with Marcus explaining as they walk, "I've arranged for some suites in Red Sector. One for you two and one for me..." he smiles, stopping mid sentence.

"And Susan," Lindsey finishes slyly.

"Yes. For Susan and I. I don't expect Lyta and Mr.Garibaldi for a few days so we should just sit tight and not attract attention."

"Right. Sounds easy enough," Lindsey says dryly.

The doors to the tube opens, and Lindsey turns to Marcus, "This is Blue Sector."

"Well, aren't you the astute one," he says brightly, "Yes. First we have to meet with Captain Lochley. I don't want to step on any toes if I can help it."

Two security personnel come forward and motion Marcus, Lindsey and Joe forward. Joe can't help crane his neck at their escorts as they walk down the brightly lit hallway. Lindsey is puzzled by obvious behavior but says nothing.

The doors to a large office open and inside is a women sitting at her desk in front of a window looking out on a vast garden. She looks up as the three enter and motions for them to sit down as she finishes the work in front of her.

"You would think paperwork would have been eliminated by now, wouldn't you?" Marcus asks rhetorically.

She doesn't respond, but finishes with a sigh, then looks up. She stands and offers her hand as she says, "Captain Cole. It's an honor to meet you."
Marcus stands and shakes her hand with a grin, "Likewise Captain Lochley. I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh?"

"Mr. Garibaldi likes to chit chat," he explains, and her brow goes up.

"I'm not sure that is a good thing," she says as she sits back down. Marcus laughs.

"He thinks very highly of you," he replies lightly.

"Mmm," is all she can say, "So, what brings you to Babylon 5?"

"Urgent Interstellar Alliance business," Marcus replies vaguely, then clears his throat. "We are here to meet Lyta Alexander."

Captain Lochley looks at him silently. After a few moments she says, "Really? Here. On this station."

He can see she is becoming angry and quickly assures her, "She is on her way with Mr. Garibaldi and two Val'den'kai. She won't be a danger with them around." Captain Lochley does not look convinced, "And she has promised to be on her best behavior."

"Well. Isn't that reassuring." Lochley says deadpan.

Marcus sighs, "I know she has a bit of a reputation, but she is only needed for one thing and then she will be on her way. There is no need for her to start any trouble."

Captain Lochley is silent once again, thinking, before she finally says, "I appreciate your coming to me, but I have a feeling I don't have much choice in the matter anyway, do I?"

Marcus shakes his had regretfully, "Not really. President Sheridan did want me to express..."

"Forget it. I know what he wants to 'express'" she says impatiently, then sighs. "Keep her out of trouble. That is all I ask."

"Done." Marcus says quickly, and then starts to stand.

As Lindsey and Joe do the same, Lindsey hears Lochley say under her breath, "Always trouble when Mr. Garibaldi comes around."

Walking towards the door, Lindsey is surprised when Joe turns back to Captain Lochley.

"Have diner with me," he says in earnest.

"What?"

"Diner. With me." he says again.

"Why would I have diner with you?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

She stares at him in disbelief, searching for the right words of decline.

"You have to eat, " he interrupts, "and I'm new to the station. Mr. Garibaldi," he says saying the name carefully, "has told me nothing of you. That isn't fair is it?"

Surprised by her own reaction, Lochley smiles. "Alright Mr...?"

"Dawson. Joe Dawson."

"Alright Mr. Dawson..."

"Captain," Lindsey chimes in helpfully.

"Captain Dawson," Lochley corrects herself, "until tonight then."

The three step into the hall in silence and after a few moments, Lindsey can't contain herself, "What was that about?"

Joe smiles, "I don't know."

Part 12 ~Aboard the White Star

2005-04-22T09:22:00.000-07:00

Consciousness came on quickly, and was followed almost immediately by a slight throbbing in her head. Even before she opened her eyes, Lindsey could sense someone standing next to her bed. Her unknown companion did not speak and she got the feeling they were waiting for her.

She forced her eyes open slowly and looks up into the face of a Minbari woman. She waits patiently for Lindsey to speak first.

Obligingly she asks, “What happened?”

“The residual Shadow consciousness overwhelmed you as you began to disassemble the protective shield. No permanent damage was done. You should have a,” the woman stopped, hesitating over the word, “‘headache’,” then continues on with confidence, “for just a day or so. If longer, tell someone.”

Before she could ask anything more, the woman turns and briskly walks away. Lindsey shrugs and assumes it meant she was free to go. As she begins to gather herself to leave, Marcus Cole strolls around the corner, a wide smile on his face.

“Glad to see you are finally awake.”

“How long was I out?”

“Half the day! If you had wanted some time off…” he begins, and she rolls her eyes. In his presence with no one else around, any Ranger formalities were gone. He was the captain, but he was her friend first. She did trust him and his leadership implicitly, but she also had to suppress the urge to strangle him with alarming frequency. Something she was sure he was aware of and tried to invoke at all times.

“I bet,” she says while rubbing her temples, “you think that’s funny?”

His only reply is to smile more broadly; something she didn’t think possible.

“Where’s Joe?” Lindsey asks as she begins to get up, making the throbbing in her head worse, but only momentarily. She closes her eyes after swinging her legs over the side of the tilted bed, steadying herself before she stands up.

“He’s with Alisa. We gave him quarters. We should find them both there.”

“How long has she been with him? Think they are done yet and I can see him?”

Marcus asks with a sly grin, “Is someone developing a crush on our mysterious passenger?”

She sighs and then says, “What are you, 12? No, I don’t have a crush.”

As they move down the hall towards the temporary quarters given to Joe, Marcus continues his brotherly teasing; which Lindsey allows for only so long. Trying to change the subject she asks about Kinby and his crew.

“Did they make it back from Petros Makinos yet?”

When Marcus didn’t immediately reply, she turns to look at him. Her heart falls. She can see in his eyes a barely suppressed anger. Before she can ask, he holds up a hand and with a weary sigh says, “Later.”
As they continue down the hall, she goes over everything in her mind. He must have taken out the control ship. Sacrificed himself. Guilt starts to gnaw at her. If she hadn’t blocked their telepaths… if she had stayed behind to escort the Alexa…

“I know what you are doing, Sinclair,” Marcus says after a few moments of silence, “stop it.”

“That an order?” she asks quietly.

He doesn’t bother to respond. Standing in front of a door to what she assumed were the quarters given to Joe, she suddenly didn’t want to see him. She would have turned and walked away, hell, she might have even run, but Alisa Beldon opens the door.

“I thought it was you,” she says with a smile.

“How?” Lindsey asks.

“I couldn’t hear anyone anymore,” the young woman responds lightly. “It could only be one person.”

Lindsey spots Joe on the sole couch and notices his worried expression. Again, the urge to be somewhere else nearly overwhelms her.

He looks up and she could see understanding register on his face. Before they could speak, he knew what they had come to tell him; that his crew, his ship was gone. His shoulders slump and he curses under his breath in a language Lindsey does not recognize.

“I’m sorry Joe. I really am,” Lindsey says as she sits next to him.

“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” he asks after a few moments. “Why were they after me?”

“We were hoping you could tell us.” Marcus says.

“Me?”

Surprised by his question, both Marcus and Lindsey look at Alisa. She shrugs her shoulders as she replies, “the block was too strong. I couldn’t break it.”

“You’re a P-10!” Marcus says in shock.

“I know,” was all she could say and shrugs again.

“What’s blocked?” Joe asks, frustrated.

Lindsey asks, “Joe, what’s the first thing you remember about your life?”

He sits back and sighs, “Waking up in a hospital on Centauri Prime. I was told I was drifting in an escape pod. They couldn’t find the remains of a ship so they figured I had been dropped there on purpose.” The words were monotone, as if he was reading a script rather then actually remembering the events. “I recovered quickly but couldn’t remember anything, so eventually, they just let me leave. All I had on me were some cloths, a little money, and papers identifying me as ‘Joseph Dawson’.”

“Right. Well, somebody but a telepathic block on you and we were hoping to undo it.”

“But she can’t?” he asks, motioning towards Alisa.

Alisa shook her head. “It’s damn fine work though.”

Joe rolls his eyes, “Well, that makes me feel better. Now what?”

“Plan B,” Marcus says lightly.

“And that is?” He asks warily.

“We get a more powerful telepath.”

Highlander Fan Fic's (canon)

2005-04-20T07:38:00.000-07:00

The following stories are straight from the show with no invented characters by me.

Thanksgiving at Macleod's
Jasmine

This one is another angle of the "Thanksgiving at Macleod's" story. Instead of any 'present time' interaction between Amanda and Duncan and her telling the story, I wrote it as it was happening. (I forget what that is called.)
DB Cooper

Thanksgiving at MacLeod's

2005-04-19T14:53:00.000-07:00

This I wrote for a holiday challenge. The only rules were the story had to take place over a holiday, had to be under 1000 words, and had to include a hat. Someday, I plan to expand it beyond 1000 words, but I also want to someday win the lotto. Keep your fingers crossed for me! ;)

“Ow!” Amanda says in exaggerated pain from behind the island in the small kitchen.
Duncan calls over his shoulder from his place on the couch, “Oh stop being such a baby.”
“I sliced my finger in case you care.”
“You’ll heal,” he says, rolling his eyes without turning to look at her.
“Duncan,” she begins sweetly, “How about we forget all this and we order in?”
“On Thanksgiving? I don’t think so.”
“But…”
“No ‘buts’, you lost the bet,” he says, still refusing to look at her.
“Do you need any help?” Ritchie offers.
“Yes.”
“No. You sit. She’s supposed to cook.”
“I didn’t think you could be so cruel Mac.”
“Fine! Fine. I’ll cook you the best damn Thanksgiving dinner you’ve ever had!”
“That’s what she said three hours ago,” Duncan mumbles.
Ritchie can’t help but smile into his beer.
“This is the worst Thanksgiving ever….” she sighs, then begins slicing angrily.
“Really?” Ritchie asks, genuinely curious.
She thinks about it for a moment, “Well, no. Not really.”
“What was the worst?”
“1971. I almost spent Thanksgiving in airport security.”
“Why? What did you do?” Duncan asks, pretending to study the chessboard in front of him.
“Nothing. I was an innocent bystander,” she protests.
“Oh really?” He scoffs.
“Yes. I was. I was working as a stewardess on a plane that got hijacked if you must know.”
“You had a job?” Ritchie asks, skeptical.
Before she could reply the elevator begins to move and as it rises all three feel the tell tale buzz.
“Must be the old man.” Ritchie says quietly to Mac.
“Look who I found outside,” Methos calls as he opened the gate of the elevator.
Duncan turns to see as both Joe and Methos step into the room.
“Hey Joe, what are you doing here? Thought you were having dinner across town.”
“I am. I just thought I’d stop by and spread a little holiday cheer,” he says holding up a bottle of red wine.
Duncan stands to retrieve the gift. “You're just in time. Amanda was just about to tell us a fairy tale.”
They all turn to her expectantly.
“Nice hat,” Methos says as she tries to ignore them, busying herself with the dinner.
In response to both Ritchie and Duncan’s barely suppressed chuckle, she snatches the chefs’ hat and throws it down.
“Duncan,” she begins again.
Without responding he glares at her. Outwardly she looks obligingly scolded, but inwardly she smiles. Making Duncan angry was her second… no third, most favorite thing.
“So, when did you have this alleged job?” Joe asks.
“As I was saying, it was 1971…”

“Look, I told you everything I know. Can I go home now please? It’s Thanksgiving,” Amanda said petulantly.
“We know ma’am. We’d like to go home too, but you’re the last person to see Dan Cooper alive. We have to make sure your not forgetting anything. “
“What could I forget? He handed me a note, demanded 200,000 dollars and four parachutes… then he jumped from the plane. Crazy if you ask me. No one could survive a jump like that.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You don’t mean to say you were on the plane with D.B. Cooper?” Duncan asks incredulous.
“Yes.” She replies impatiently.
“You were Tina Mucklow?” Joe asks, equally incredulous.
She sighs. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”
“Yes.” they all say in unison.
“Fine. Where was I?”
“No one could survive a jump like that.” Ritchie prompts.
“We know that isn’t true.” Duncan says sarcastically.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Joe shakes his head, the realization dawning, “He was immortal!”
“Yes Joe. He was. His name was Conrad Poe and he ruined my holiday. Can I continue?”
“Sure.”

“Let’s just go over it again. You said he handed you a note,” the lead investigator prompted.
“Yes.” Amanda replied tiredly.
“What did you do with it?”
“I put it in my pocket.”
“Why?”
“I thought he was hitting on me,” she said indignant, gesturing to herself in explanation.
“Alright, then what?”
“When he saw I didn’t look at it he said ‘you should read the note. I have a bomb.’ then he opened the case on his lap.”
“What was in it?”
“A. Bomb.”
“Are you sure?”
“How should I know? It had wires and cylinders and it looked explosive.”

“Amanda,” Duncan says with a sigh, “You’re telling us what you told the police. What really happened?”
“Oh fine. Spoil sport.”

September 1971 Snoqualmie WA

It was raining, and cold. Amanda cursed under her breath as she pulled at the collar of her coat in an attempt to keep dry. She crossed the street quickly, heading for the warmth of the only diner she could find still open, looking over her shoulder even though she couldn’t sense anyone following her.
Panzer made her paranoid. She wasn’t accustomed to running from a fight, but she also knew she couldn’t win if she faced him, so she ran to the one place she knew he would never look for her…a small town in the Northwest in autumn. She had thought the idea clever until the rainy season started.
She nearly made it to the other side of the street when she felt it. Another immortal was nearby. Her heart raced. ‘Panzer! He couldn’t have found me here!’
A slight figure stepped from a side street and stopped and she sighed in relief. He was too small to be that ogre…
“Amanda!” the man called out. “Amazing Amanda. You are a hard woman to find.”
“Did it occur to you that it is intentional?”
He laughed then moved forward slowly. She looked around and realized the street is empty. ‘Damn small towns.’
“I am not here for that” he called out noticing her resignation as her hand moved inside her coat.
“Oh? What then?”
“I have a proposition for you.”
“I’m listening.”
“How about over coffee?”
“You're buying.”

Inside the small diner the two immortals sat in the far corner, their heads close together scanning the multitude of paper spread out on the table between them.
“This is the main safe. On Wednesday the bank is expecting an extra deposit of cash to cover their black Friday customers looking for Christmas money and people cashing checks instead of depositing them. I estimate our take could be 3 million.”
“1.5 each?” Amanda said with awe.
“If we do this right, yes. Security will be at a minimum despite the heavy payload due to Thanksgiving. It’s perfect.”
“I’ll grant you that it will be easy. Easier then most… but…”
“What? Is there a flaw?’
“Well… not so much a flaw,” she said slowly.
“Then what?”
“It’s too easy. Boring in fact.”
“Boring!”
“Oh come on! Haven’t you ever wanted to do something just for the fun of it? The glory? Where is your sense of adventure?”
“Just exactly what did you have in mind?”
In response she smiled then told him her idea.
“Your crazy,” he said at last, with a hint of wonder.
“So I have been told,” she replied with a smile. “Are you in?”
He pretended to think it over, but she knew she had him.
“Yes. I’m in. Did you have a date in mind?”
“The day before Thanksgiving. It is the busiest time to travel. The airline personnel will be stretched to maximum making it less likely they will try anything tricky.”
He smiled, “Perfect.”
“Well, almost,” she admitted, “the jump itself will be difficult.”
“Not to worry. In a previous life, I was a paratrooper.”
“Oh,” she said with the right amount of admiration, “How fortunate for me.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Ritchie says, pointing the knife he had been using to slice carrots for emphasis, “you gave up the chance at 1.5 million dollars to help hijack a plane for a measly 100,000? Something isn’t right.”
“I thought it would be fun. Oh Duncan, stir the gravy before it burns. Besides, I didn’t get to jump. He double crossed me and left me behind on the plane and took all the cash for himself.”
“That bastard,” Duncan says dryly.
“No honor among thieves,” Methos quotes, as he adds more milk to the potatoes for mashing.
In response Amanda only shrugs with a small smile playing across her lips.
“Wait a minute. He wanted to knock over the Seattle Marine Bank?” Joe asks.
“Yes, so?”
“Well, if he didn’t because he was in the Washington State Forest, the who did?”
“Whatever do you mean Joe?” Amanda asks innocently.
“Because on Thanksgiving, the bank was robbed of 3.2 million dollars. The thief was never caught. Too much of the states manpower was being used looking for that dolt D.B. Cooper!”
“Oh really. Is that irony?” she asks coyly, taking another sip of her wine.
“Amanda…” Duncan says darkly.
“What?” she says innocently. “Oh, by the way, nice hat.”
Joe can’t help but laugh as Duncan snatches the chefs’ hat from his head and throws it on the counter and glares at Amanda, whose only response is to smile sweetly.

Part 11 ~Visions

2005-04-05T14:28:00.000-07:00

Duncan opened his eyes to darkness. Slowly, he moves his hands forward and meets metal. He pushed against it, but it doesn’t move.

“Hey!” he yells, “let me out of here!” But no one answers. He listens for a moment. Nothing. No noise. No light. He pushes against the metal again, but it is too close to get any leverage.

Is this a coffin? Oh god! Did they bury me?

He pounds against the metal again. “Can you hear me? Let me out?”

He is close to panic when he realizes that he is standing. He wants to be relieved. They don’t bury you standing, but the feeling of helplessness still grips him.

Where am I? He tries to recall. He sees men and women, fleeing, fighting, dying, all to try and protect him.

No. Just run. They can take me! He tries to scream at them, but they can’t hear. Stop! I’m right here! But the fighting, the killing continues, then fades. A room. Large, windowless. His vision is blurry, but he can hear angry voices but can’t make out what they are saying.

“They belong to us now human. Stand aside!” he hears, then more struggling, more fighting. For him! Why?

His vision fades again and he sleeps, or is it just darkness with out thought?

Memories slid in and out, of people he has known, places he has been; Paris, at night, then London. Fritz is by his side, playing golf. Duncan smiles. Tessa, Richie, Joe... No! He sees Joe fall, blood spreading on the front of his shirt. He tries to run forward but can’t move.

He struggles against what holds him still, but darkness takes him again.

Moments, or eons later, he opens his eyes again, and again his vision is blurred. He moves his hands in front of his face and is startled to see the thin hands of a woman. Pale they are, and small, but even they are out of focus. He looks up and then realizes he can’t breath. He’s under water!

‘Can you hear me?’ a voice in his mind calls out, but it isn’t his own. Kierna! It’s her voice. Her hand. She is panicked, calling out over and over to others like her, but they cannot hear. He feels isolated, cut off, and he thinks it is the first time she has ever felt this. Such aloneness. Her ears are filled with the fluid that surrounds them, cutting off any vibrations. Her eyes are blurred and ineffectual. No sense of touch, taste. She wants to cry out, but can’t do that either. The frustration building inside her, blinding her more then whatever it is that surrounds them.

‘Can you hear me!’ she calls out again, but the thought bounces back unanswered. ‘The Shadows have me! They know you are coming!’

Nothing.

No. This isn’t the first time she has been so alone.... he can see it. A field of snow below her, and she stands on a hill, looking down at a burning village beyond the field, surrounded by trees. Inside the smoldering buildings are the people that raised her. She looks up as several ships fly overhead, ignoring her. Good, she thinks grimly. They think they have won. And she moves forward through the waist high snow, still wearing her father’s sweater that she had put on days before. It is all she has against the cold, but then she never did get cold.

Moving down the hill, she listens to the silence around her. All she hears are the trees groaning in the winter wind, and the engines of the Minbari ships as they move away from her village.

But they left some behind. That was their first mistake, she thinks to herself grimly, because I’m going to kill them. All of them.

She keeps moving forward, determined, unarmed, not even sure what she is going to do, only knowing that she is the last one left of her colony. All the others were killed as they ran. Shot in the back, or from above, and that the Minbari were going to pay. But what could she do? She was still just a child. Barely fourteen... I’m going to destroy them, one by one, she responds to herself. One by one.
Then it happened... a voice, but not her own.

We can help you, it said. She stops, listening.

How?

Just do as we tell you. Then come to us.

Where are you?

You know that already Kierna. But you have to do as we say first. Or you won’t make it back.

Back?

Yes. Back home.

She agrees.

The vision fades, and she calls out again, Can you hear me?

Creatures move outside her containment, large black creatures, moving like insects. She wants to scream at them, pound them with her bare hands, but they move about as if she wasn’t there. Her thoughts are thrown against the barrier, again and again, a mental battering ram, but they don’t get through. She begins to grow weak from the assault, but rest is impossible.

Finally, thankfully, darkness comes, and then pulls back again.

She is lying on the ground, gasping for breath. Above her stand a woman, not quite human, with brown hair and a man in uniform. The woman kneels down, concern obvious. She pulls the robe from her shoulders and throws it over Kierna; much like Kierna had done for Duncan just days ago.

“Can you hear me?” the woman, Delenn says.

Duncan opens his eyes, gasping for breath. He sits up from his bed and calms himself. What the hell was that? He asks himself, and then becomes aware of Kierna in the other room.

“The Shadows!” she mumbles, and then comes awake with a start. Duncan stands in the doorway, waiting for her to catch her breath.

“Bad dream?” he asks.

“What? It was nothing,” she replies flatly.

“Nothing?” he replies, then moves to sit next to her. “What about the underwater prison? The field of snow? What the hell was that?”

She turns to look at him, her face betraying her disbelief. Then a mask of calm falls over it, “Nothing,” she repeats with more force.

“I don’t believe that,” he says quietly.

“It was just a dream. Get over it.”

She starts to stand, but her grabs her arm to prevent her from moving. With surprising ease, she pulls it away and stands above him, angry.

“Do not touch me like that again,” she warns.

“Then tell me what is going on!” he says as he stands, refusing to back down, even from this strange woman and the implied threats he knows she could carry out.

"Dreams. Nightmares. Nothing more."

"No. They were memories. Your memories."

She looks at him for a moment, and then sits back down.

"That's why you came after me. You know what it's like..." he begins.

"Don't be so sentimental."

“Then why do you look so worried?”

“Because, you shouldn’t have been able to do that.”

“What?”

She looks at him directly and pauses before saying, “Read them.”

Part 10 ~Dogfight con't

2005-04-04T06:18:00.000-07:00

The call comes over the comm, faint, filled with static, “We’re taking fire!”

“That’s Jenkins. They must be going after the Alexa!” Joe’s voice starts to pitch high in panic.

“Dammit. They know we have you...” Lindsey says quietly.

“Are we going to help them?”

Another shot rocks their ship, “We’re a little busy, if you hadn’t noticed.”

A second call comes over the comm, as faint as the first, “Where are they all coming from?”

Lindsey sighs, “That’s Kinby. He’s there at the Alexa. He’ll do all he can.”

Joe asks in frustration, “But?”

“We have to get you to the White...” but before she can finish, the comm breaks in again, “They have no weapons. Why are they firing on them?”

Lindsey curses, and can’t help but wonder if they were attacking the unarmed ship in response to her hiding Joe from their telepaths.

“Kinby, how many are there?” Lindsey asks, afraid of the answer.

“About 20. They just keep coming.”

Her response is cut off by her console warning of another weapons lock. She pulls up and sharply left, but the Sky Serpent stays on her. “Could use a little help here...”

“Got him,” Taroth says calmly and Lindsey watches the icon of the ship dissolves.

“Thanks.”

“As you say,” Taroth responds, “de nada.”

In spite of their situation, Lindsey laughs.

Kinby cuts in again, “Don’t worry about us, get the package on board safely.”

“The package doesn’t want to go if it means my crew getting killed,” Joe says, louder then he intended.

“Too bad,” comes the harsh reply.

“He’s right you know,” Lindsey says softly, then winces in pain.

“How much longer can you keep.. whatever it is you are doing, up?”

“Not much.” Lindsey replies, but stops as the comm interrupts once again, “Besides,” Kinby says with humor, “I have a plan.”

Barns cuts in darkly, “Those are the most dangerous words in the human language Kinby. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“Barnes, there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do.” the reply comes, followed by confident laughter.

“Great,” N’tau says, and Lindsey can almost imagine the Narn rolling her eyes at the human’s bravado.

___________

“We’re taking fire!” Jenkins calls to the Rangers that were left behind to escort them back to Petros Makrinos, then switches to inner ship communications, “Dump the whole load!” Jenkins says again, impatiently. “We need to maneuver and can’t with all that mass!”

“Sir, you can’t out run Sky Serpents....” Millie says nervously.

“No. I can’t, but he can,” Jenkins replies grimly, pointing to the Drazi helmsmen that had just moments before been lying flat on his back after Roan laid him out.

“He’s one of them!” Roan replies in disgust.

“Exactly, which is why he is the only one that can out fly them!” Jenkins yells as he moves about the bridge frantically trying to reroute any extra power to the engines. He looks at the drazi that is still nursing his bloody nose, “Sit! Fly! Get us the hell out of here!” He commands, then slides under the console he had been working on before that damned Ranger showed up and blew his evening to hell.

The drazi does as he is told, and once again takes the helm. Curses are heard throughout the bridge as the ship takes another shot.

“What the hell are those Rangers doing?”

“Getting in the way of the Sky Serpents from blowing us to bitty bits,” the grim reply comes from Gains, the ships xeno-geologist.

Jenkins comes out from under the console and moves over to the display Gains is watching. “Are they doing a good job?” He asks, but is answered by another blow that sends him to the floor, “Guess not.”

As he tries to stand again, Jenkins spots Kien and Andy Gosler as they are making their way onto the bridge. Before they can step foot inside, he yells, “Get back to the cargo hold. Help whoever is back there to dump it!”

“The whole thing?” Gosler asks, stunned.

The ships is hit again, sending both men hard against the wall.

“Yes!” Jenkins yells, then turns to Roan, “You, take over. I have to get to the engines.” he starts to leave then turns back, “And don’t hit the drazi again!”

Roan growls, but agrees.

Gains clings to the console and watches the battle unfold on the screen. The drazi is silent as he moves the little ship further into the asteroid field, taking them back the way they had just come.

“Are you crazy?” Roan yells, but makes no move towards the helmsman. The drazi ignores him.

“Amazing!” Gains whispers, watching as the drazi weaves and dodges all obstacles with ease. Behind, Sky Serpents follow, but quickly fall back, as the Rangers follow up taking them out one by one.

______________

The call comes over the comm, filled with static, but the panic in Jenkins’s voice is clear, “We’re taking fire!”

Drazi Sky Serpents swarm at the little ship from all directions, dodging the Rangers with ease to attack the vessel.

“Where are they all coming from?” Kinby asks rhetorically.

“Looks like from further in the asteroid field....” Furlahn says calmly, ever a Minbari.

“Not that it matters,” Dex says with his typical Narn urgency, “Just keep them away from that ship!”

“Agreed,” P’dlan, the fourth member of their squad, chimes in just as she destroys another Sky Serpent.

“They have no weapons. Why are they firing on them?” Dex asks, frustrated.

“They are ignoring us though, does that make sense to anyone?” Kinby asks his squad.

“Not really,” P’dlan says promptly, “but then, they are Drazi.”

“Not good enough,” Dex cuts in, “Drazi are hard headed and sometimes a bit dim, but they wouldn’t ignore a threat such as us to destroy and unarmed rock hopper.”

“Kinby,” Lindsey’s voice cuts in, the comm filled with static, “How many are there?”

“About 20. They just keep coming,” he replies, trying to keep his hopes from getting up, knowing that her first priority was getting Joe Dawson safely on the White Star. He hears as her ships warning system goes off, and offers up a prayer to Valen. He switches his attention to his own squad and their current situation again, “So, none of this makes sense then?” Kinby asks no one in particular, then is stunned into silence as he watches the Alexa suddenly drops her cargo into the void of space and turn into the thickest of the asteroids. With a burst of speed the Rangers didn’t think the ship was capable of, the Alexa moves away, expertly avoiding the asteroids that just hours before, it had been mining. “Well. That was unexpected,” the Ranger finally says with a touch of awe as the Sky Serpents fly past the Minbari Nials in pursuit of the Alexa, leaving themselves vulnerable to attack.

“Ok people. You know what to do.” Kinby says to his squad, still in disbelief at the maneuvering of the little ship, that was currently out running three squads of Sky Serpents. He then offers what little reassurance that he can to his fellow Rangers on their way back to the White Star, “Don’t worry about us, get the package on board safely.”

“The package doesn’t want to go if it means my crew getting killed,” Joe says, his voice coming over the comm much louder then anyone else’s had.

“Too bad,” Kinby replies harshly, “Besides, I have a plan.”

Barns cuts in darkly, “Those are the most dangerous words in the human language Kinby. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“Barnes, there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do.” Kinby says, then laughs.

“They are moving away awfully fast,” Dexter cuts in.

Kinby replies with as much bravado as he can muster, “Let’s get a move on then. We have civilians to save!”

“Aye,” P’dlan replies eagerly, and on the heals of her response comes equally eager agreements from Dexter and Furlahn.

“20 to 4. I’d say that’s about right,” Kinby says, bolstered by their high spirits.

“19'” P’dlan promptly corrects him.

“Right. 19 to 4. Even better.”

__________

“Where in the hell are we going?” Roan demands, pinned to his seat by fear.

The drazi doesn’t answer.

“Who cares, as long as it keeps them from blowing us apart?” Millie says, frantic. Her eyes are wide as she watches through the forward view screen the asteroids as they come close, then disappear along the sides of the ship. Twice she threw her hands over her head, sure the drazi was going to impact one.

“Are they still following us?” Roan ask Gains, who hadn’t moved from his station.

“Yes.” Roan curses, and is about to yell at the drazi when Gains cuts in sharply, “but they are much farther from us then before, and the Rangers are taking them out. If we can just keep this up for a little....”

“Look!” Millie scream, pointing at the view screen. The drazi, who had been silent in concentration curses in a long string.

“You brought us right to them! Traitor! Coward!” Roan surges forward at the drazi, but falls sideways as the drazi pulls right sharply, away from the mammoth ship in front of them. It was huge, taking up much of the view screen from quite a distance. The hull was angry with spikes, and no obvious port bow could be made out. As they were turning Gains keeps his eyes not on the forward screens, but his console. He watches in detached awe as several of the spikes that had been attached to the hull break off in pursuit. The ship is disassemble itself into a swarm of Sky Serpents, leaving behind a small control ship.

“Amazing,” he repeats, then looks up at his crew mates, and watches in horror as Roan once again goes after the drazi, who is concentrating on his flying and doesn’t notice the large alien coming at him from behind.

“You fool!” Gains shouts, but too late. The Vree crewman leaps at the drazi and pulls him from his seat. The ship slows to a halt without the drazi at the helm and the Sky Serpents catch up with them in moments.

Millie screams as the two beings fight, and Gains tries to pull them apart. He looks up at the view screen just in time to see as seven Sky Serpents open fire at the same time.

“Bloody hell,” he says softly.

_____________

“Oh my.... what is that?” P’dlan says softly, staring at the large ship the Alexa had found. They watch, helpless, as the small ship makes a sharp turn, then inexplicably stop. In horror they watch as several more Sky Serpents disengage from the control ship and pursue the little mining ship, then destroy it.

Dex curses, loudly, as the other Rangers sit in silence. They are still far enough back that the other Sky Serpents haven’t noticed them yet. For the moment, everything was still.

Finally, Kinby breaks in, saying what they are all thinking, “if we can destroy that control ship, all the Sky Serpents will become inert.”

“Are you sure?” Dex asks, even though he knows the answer.

“Yes,” Kinby says softly. But it shouldn’t take all of us,” he pauses, then says, “I need a volunteer.”

All three immediately do so. Kinby laughs. “Well, that didn’t work,” then he sighs, “Let’s try this. I am thinking of a number between 1 and 20.”

“15,” P’dlan says without prompting.

“5,” Dex responds, but Kinby can hear confusion in his voice.

“And what number do you pick Furlahn?” Kinby asks slowly.

“None Kinby, because I am the one that is going with you,” the Minbari says simply.

Kinby sighs, then agrees.

“Cheater,” P’dlan teases, but cannot hide the sadness from her voice.

“Alright. Furlahn is with me, you two, get back to N’tau’s squad and do whatever you can to get Dawson aboard the White Star.”

Reluctantly, Dex and P’dlan agree.

“In Valen’s name...” P’dlan begins.

“We live for the one, we die for the one,” Kinby recites, “Now go.”

_________________

Lindsey wipes at her face, and is surprised to see blood on her fingertips. “Oh damn,” she says quietly, but it is enough to peak Joe’s curiosity. He leans forward and sees the blood.

“Where is that coming from?”

“My nose,” she replies, a bit peevishly.

“Is it because of what you are doing?” he asks, more curious then alarmed.

Before she can reply, N’tau cuts in over the comm, “Bad news. We have more incoming.”

Inside her ship, Lindsey winces again.

“We can’t stay out here much longer,” Joe says loudly.

“Sinclair, can you hold out?”

“Yes,” she replies tiredly.

“She’s lying,” Joe says.

“We don’t have much choice,” Lindsey cuts in sharply. “We are a long ways from the rendevous point and the White Star can’t come in here for us! I’ll be fine!”

“Stubbornness must run in your family,” a jolly voice cuts in.

“Captain?” Lindsey says in disbelief.

“I didn’t think the White Star could maneuver inside the asteroid field?” N’tau asks.

Marcus Cole responds with much delight, “Did you know that if you shoot an asteroid, it blows up?”

Sighing with relief, Lindsey watches as the White Star moves gracefully into view and begins to fire on the squad of fresh Sky Serpents that are swarming from inside the asteroid field.

“Glad to have you with us Captain. The package is secure, in with Anla'shok Sinclair,” N’tau says, with as much formality as she can.

Now that the White Star had them under cover fire, Lindsey begins to disassemble the protective blanket she had created to shield them from telepaths. Instead, her head feels as if it is going to explode. Her breathing comes in gasps as her vision blurs.

“Lindsey?” she hears Joe say from behind her, but his voice was muffled by the ringing in her ears, “Are you alright? Lindsey!”

"What's wrong?" a voice asks over the comm.

“Sinclair is hurt. I can’t hear her breathing!” Joe calls out, frustrated he can’t move to help her.

“Copy that,” Capt. Cole responds, and before Joe can ask what they were going to do, he is thrown forward suddenly as the White Star caught hold of the little ship and pulls it in.

Inexplicably, as they are pulled towards the Ranger ship, he notices the Sky Serpents stop, dead in space.

‘Guess they know when to concede defeat,’ he thinks to himself, then turns his attention to the interior of the White Star. The little of it he can see from his vantage point.

“Not much longer, Lindsey,” he says quietly, to Lindsey or himself, he isn't sure, “just hang on.”

Box

2005-03-31T20:31:00.000-08:00

You say I broke your heart.
I say you broke your own.
Looking at you and your jejune eyes,
I wonder what it must be like,
for you,
existing inside that mirrored box,
staring at nothing,
but an eternity of yourself,
and not
get
bored.

Zen Master

2005-03-31T20:28:00.000-08:00

His reputation carried on his breath,
his honor on his skin.
A tattered coat of quality clung to his frame,
the glory of it living on,
but only in his memory.
"Sometimes the truth does not need to be exposed
to full fill it's purpose. It just needs to exist."
He cackled and moved on,
"Some thoughts should never be spoken."

Part 9~ The Juvat

2005-03-29T10:43:00.000-08:00

Duncan woke up once again, and once again Kierna was forced to ignore him. She had to not think about what it must be like for him to wake up, wrapped in cloth, unable to breath, just to die again and again. She worked hard to keep those thoughts from her mind as she had climbed the cavern wall that was nearly a mile in height, but the closer she got to the end, the harder it was to put the thoughts aside. The lip of the canyon was tantalizingly close. Just a few more meters... The idea of his ordeal was nearly unbearable as she reached for the final handhold and then finally being able to swing herself up and over the edge, to lay for a moment on solid ground.

As his struggles ceased once again, she pulled him up and laid him on the ground next to her, then she sat down after she had decided to rest for a while before moving on. Her ship was not too far away, but her arms and legs ached with the climb and the idea of carrying him for just those few meters to the Juvat were too much to think about at the moment. But she could not rest for too long. The sun would be up soon, and although the heat wasn’t a factor, she didn’t want to be caught on the plain during daylight. No place to hide.

She took in a few more long breaths, then got up once more and stood over the body of Duncan Macleod. He was blessedly still. She gave up a silent prayer to the universe for that before kneeling once again next to him to lift him up and over her shoulder.

“Just a little further, Duncan,” she said, even though she knew he could not hear. After more then a thousand years as a val’den’kai, she couldn’t help but wonder just when she would finally be too old for this kind of mission, “We are almost home.”
In the moonlights, her way was easily made across the dusty plain to the low outcropping of rock she had hid her ship under. It had cloaking capabilities, but only from sensors. The ship could still be seen by the naked eye, unless camouflaged by nature.

As she rounded her ship to the entrance, she whispered a command. Silently the door slid open and finally, thankfully, she walked inside.

The interior lights came on at half strength as she moved into to the common area. Someone with her advanced vision didn’t need it, but it was comforting none the less.

Laying Duncan down on one of the benches, she spoke another command. She could hear as the consoles came to life, preparing to take off. She loved flying, perhaps more then anything else, but this ship- her ship- didn’t require her at the helm to fly as efficiently as any other ship with a first rate pilot ‘at the stick’.

As the engines powered up, she moved about the cabin quickly, preparing for Duncan to wake once again. He wouldn’t require much, and she wondered if she kept herself busy to push aside thinking about what he would say when he finally came too. She didn’t have to wait long.

His body arched as he took in a long pain filled breath. He began to cough and she hurried to his side. She began to help him sit up when he pushed her back. Without argument, she sat across from him and waited.

He sat, shoulders slumped, gulping air as if it would be his last. Finally, after long moments, he looked up at her, his eyes glowing with anger.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

“Plenty,” she replied calmly, “and it will take a while to explain. If you would prefer, you could freshen up and eat before I begin.”

“I want answers,” he said darkly.

“Yes. I know you do. But you should be in a better frame of mind before you hear them.”

He continued to glower at her, but as each moment passed, she could see his resolve waiver.

She arched a brow at him then motioned to his right to a bundle at the foot of the bench. Clean cloths, and a towel, and with it a promise of a shower and shave. “Seriously Duncan. This ship is about the size of a New York apartment. I won’t go anywhere while you change. I promise.”

Reluctantly and with a growl, he snatched up the cloths and moved to that back of the cabin as she pointed. She shook her head, Amanda was right about him, she thought to herself with some amusement, then sadly, Poor Amanda.

________________________

“The who?”

“The Hand,” she explained, studying the features that had been hidden by centuries of hair. Clean shaven and with newly shorn hair he was almost a different man. “We don’t know who they are. No one has actually seen them. But they are very concerned about you winning the Prize.”

He took another spoonful of what she had called oatmeal before asking, “Why?”

“I’m not sure. I believe they think that with the Prize, you will have the power to keep them out of this universe, permanently.”

He put down his spoon. “So, beings that don’t even exist in this universe are trying to stop me from winning the Prize?” he asks, his disbelief obvious.

“I know it sounds ridiculous Duncan, but it is true.”

“So, it was this Hand that was behind forcing the last of us into Sanctuary?” He asks, thinking back to the chaos of that time. He could feel the Gathering pulling at him, but immortals had been discovered, revealed. A newly formed government agency called Psi Corp was hunting them, rounding them up. Once an immortal had been found by Psi Corp, they were never heard from again. Watchers that had once only observed tried to intervene. They had kept Duncan hidden for about a year. Constantly on the move, trying to stay a step ahead of the telepaths. He discovered it was the memories of their long lives that gave them away and he knew it was only a matter of time before he was discovered, but his stubbornness wouldn’t let him give in so easily.

“No. I don’t think anyone knew about the Hand back then. That was you. Immortals, and humans. They did it all on their own. Amelia was right to be concerned about Lazarus Group. After Psi Corp took over, they were infiltrated by Bureau 13 around 2020. After that, before the war to retake Earth, Clark and his Shadow allies got involved.”

Duncan tried to take it all in. He remembered Lazarus Group. He had resisted helping Amelia after she had escaped from them, but had gotten roped into helping by Amanda, and surprisingly, Joe.

They were using Watchers and other Immortals to alter the Game. Even hold it off. When was the Gathering supposed to have happened? He asked himself. How much of his life was borrowed, or stolen time?

“The Shadows? Who are they?”

“Ancient enemies of the Vorlons. And that is a long story,” she says, forestalling his next question, “And it has nothing to do with your current situation. It’s just history.”

“So, first immortals alter the game, then the telepaths. The Shadows took over and then handed us to the drac who gave us to the Hand?”

“No,” she says and he sighs, “I know it sounds complicated, Duncan. Telepaths were looking for immortals and found a bunch of them, conveniently drugged in Sanctuary, thanks to Lazarus and their meddling. After that, it wasn’t long before Earthgov and it’s less democratic sections took over and tried to use you all as bargaining chips in the fight for dominance in space. That is how the Shadows got involved. When the Shadows were asked to leave the galaxy, the drac took over as custodians to the Undying, as they called you. Now that they work of the Hand, they did with you what the Hand wanted. And they wanted the Game to go their way.”

“The Game has nothing to do with them. Why do the think I could stop them even if I did win?”

“Not just you. Any immortal, if they so chose. I guess they figure you would choose to keep them out.”

"Another immortal wouldn't?"

"Would Kronos? Or Kell?"

He sighes, her point taken. “Do you think I can stop them?”

“I know we can’t,” she stated flatly. “The Vorlons nearly couldn’t, and they were millions of years ahead of us.”

“So, what makes them so sure I can?”

“You defeated Arihman.”

He sits back, stunned. That name brought back too much, too fast.

“I’m sorry Duncan. I didn’t mean...”

“No,” he says softly, “it’s alright. It just took me by surprise,” he stands up and paces the small common room. “That was so long ago...” he says more to himself, the sits heavily on the same bench he had woken up on just hours before.

Without meaning too, his eyes wander to one of the windows, at the sickly vista of ‘hyperspace’. At least that is what he thought she called it. The swirls of black and blood red made him queasy and he quickly looked away. Or maybe it was the thought of that demon that had taken so much from him.

“How did you know about that?” he asks finally.

“I was there,” she says simply, surprising him.

“How? That was... what... 270 years ago!”

“Yes. I was in Paris. It’s very pretty there in the spring.”

He walks back to the table and sits across from her, studying her. “I sense nothing from you, but... are you immortal?”

She laughs. “Immortal? No. Hard to kill? Yes.”

He stares at her, bewildered. “Just how old are you?”

“Hmmm,” she says with a smile, “is that a polite thing to ask?”

His brow furrows and she laughs again. “Alright. This summer, I will be 1069 years old. Happy?”

“None of this makes me happy,” he says, almost petulant. “Has your kind been watching us all this time? Since the beginning?”

“No. I am one of the oldest of my race. Immortals have been around for much longer then val’den’kai. But once we found out about you, some of us did join the ranks of the Watchers. Just out of curiosity more then anything else. You were a puzzle.”

Instinctively, his eyes move to her wrist. She sees it and lifts them both up to face him. He sighs as he sees that both are free from any tattoos. She smiles and dramatically rubs her wrists together. “Ta da!” she says, holding them up to face him again. He grabs her left wrist to examine the tattoo that had appeared.

“This wasn’t there a moment ago!” he says in disbelief.

She pulls her hand back and rubs it again, enjoying herself. “See.” Once again, her skin is clear of any markings.

“How?” he demands.

“Nano tech. My body is filled with it. All val’den’kai are. I can change the color of my hair, skin, eyes even, with nothing more then a thought. Comes in handy doing what I do.”

“Yeah. Rescuing immortals must be a full time job.”

“Hardly. You were the only one I had to get. The rest were let go about 10 years ago.”

"If they wanted to stop the Gathering, why would they do that?"

"We don't know. It doesn't make sense to us either."

“How many?”

“Can’t you tell?”

He is surprised by her question. “No,” he begins, but can’t help but wonder. “Should I be able to?”

“Yes.... You should have been able to all along.”

“I could only sense another immortal if they were close by.”

"Hmmm," she says softly, thinking, “Perhaps it was because there were too many. There was never supposed to be as many immortals as there were.”

Were, he thought, but pushed it aside. “How do you know?

“Kosh told me,” she says simply, as if that explained it, but before he can ask, she leans forward, “Try to find them. With your mind. Tell me how many you can sense.”

Casting her a dubious eye, he leans back in the chair and closes his eyes. Long ago, Methos had shared with him some meditation techniques that Duncan had used before being captured by Psi Corp. He tried to recall the steps; it had been so long, but the memory of his instruction was there. Clear, unaltered.

“Passive visualization,” the ancient immortal intoned.

“Half of that fits you,” Duncan said, not looking up from his paper as the other immortal helped himself to the contents of his fridge. “Have a beer,” Duncan said around a mouthful of grapefruit after Methos had already twisted the top off.

“Thanks,” he said, then threw himself on the couch, both feet promptly placed on the table. “It’s a great technique I learned in the....7th century I think....Helps keep the mind limber.”

“I don’t want to think of any part of you as ‘limber’” Duncan says, steadfastly reading the paper.

“Ha ha. You should try it.”

Duncan doesn’t answer.

“Duncan? Did you hear me?” Methos finally asks, unable to bear the silence.

“Mmm hmm,” the Highlander says absently.

“What the hell is so bloody important that you are reading?” he asks, craning his neck over the back of the couch to look at his friend, who was doing his best to ignore him.

“Marmaduke.” he finally replied.

Duncan slows his breathing, just as Methos had taught him, slow and steady. He emptied his mind, letting all thoughts go with each breath. Letting his thoughts slide away, unexamined. Like bubbles floating to the surface of the ocean high above, undisturbed, whole but separate.

When his mind was clear, he let the images come, unforced, unbidden.

“Be curious about what you will see,” Methos had said.

Duncan waited.

He did not dictate, or push. He was patient.

Breath in, hold, breath out, slowly... in, and hold. Out, slowly.

He was standing in a garden. It was massive. The smell of the grass filled him and he let it. Slowly, he turned. It was no where he recognized. He didn’t ask where, but instead took in the surroundings. The garden seemed to go on forever. He looked to his left, then his right, and almost without thinking about it, he looked up, and caught his breath.

His eyes fly open.

“What? What did you see?”

He shook his head. “A circular garden...”

“A garden? What do you mean?”

“A garden. But it wasn’t just on the ground. When I looked up, it was above me. There was no sky.”

He looks at Kierna as she smiles.

“You know what I am talking about,” he says flatly.

“Of course. That is our first stop. You can see it for yourself. The great gardens of Babylon 5.”

Jasmine

2005-03-29T07:27:00.000-08:00

Jasmine

“Why are you smiling?” Duncan asked as they strolled through the park.
“Should I not be?” Tessa returned, still smiling.
“Always," he said smoothly, "I was just wondering what you were thinking.”
“I was just thinking how much I love this time of year, that’s all,” she replied with a content sigh, then said, “Ah... can’t you smell them?”
“What?”
“Jasmine. I love jasmine.”
“Yes, I know,” he replied while enjoying the contour of her face. As they strolled, he studied that contour and it struck him that her smile held a bit of a secret. Eventually, when he could stand it no longer, he said, “but you never told me why they are your favorite.”
Her smile broadened in the way it only does when she has been caught and knows she can’t hide it.
“What are you talking about,” she protested, unable to look directly at him. “They just are.”
“Tessa,” he began, but she wouldn’t turn to face him.
In one smooth motion he pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her waist and began to kiss her neck until she couldn’t contain her laughter. “You,” he said in between kisses, “are a lousy liar.”
“Alright!” she finally gave in, “I’ll tell you.”
He pulled back slightly, but kept his hold on her, ready for a second onslaught if he felt she was holding something back.
“You’re impossible,” she accused then looked away slightly embarrassed, but still smiling.
“Out with it,” he said with a laugh.
She sighed, a bit nostalgic, “They remind me of my first real boyfriend.”
Duncan’s knees bent as he feigned being crushed and she laughed.
“I’m serious,” she said as she playfully hit his arm, “Did you think there was no one before you?”
“Just as long as there is no one after...” and he kissed her neck again.
“Never!” she said, and snuggled close.
“So... what was his name,” he asked as casually as he could.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Well, he must have left an impression.”
Her smile returned, “There is more.”
“Oh?” his eyebrow arched.
“On our first real date, he brought me jasmine. Jasmine and a box of chocolates. We shared them as we strolled through the Louvre and when he brought me home,” she paused, and he is slightly stunned to notice that she was blushing, “he kissed me.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
"That's all?"
"Yes."
They continued their stroll when another thought occurred to the pondering Highlander.
“This wouldn’t be your first kiss would it?” and instantly she smiled broadly again.
“Ohhh...” he said knowingly.
“Stop that,” then she said after a moment, “You’re just jealous.”
He can’t help but laugh, “Not so.”
“Liar,” she said.
Up ahead, Duncan spotted a booth selling fresh flowers and saw a bouquet of the very jasmine that began their sordid conversation. He let go of her arm and headed toward the stall at a light run.
“Where are you going?” she called after him, but he made no reply.
He came back with the bouquet of flowers wrapped in white paper and got down on one knee, dramatically holding out the flowers to her as he imagined a nervous boy would. She laughed and accepted them, burying her face in the soft petals and inhaling their sweet scent. When she looked up, she matched his broad grin. He then leaned forward and kissed her lightly.
“Was it like that?” he asked when he pulled back.
She smiled coyly, “No.”
He leaned forward and kissed her again. This time more aggressively, crushing her lips with his as his arms wrapped around her once more.
“Surely not like that?” he asked after letting her loose.
“No...” she said slowly, “but you can do that again.”
He laughed and put her arm over his to continue their walk, the paper of the flowers cradled in her other arm crinkling softly as she moved. Again studying her face he was overcome by her beauty and he impulsively kissed her cheek.
“Mmm...,” she said and then closed her eyes, “Yes. It was just like that.”
His eyebrows raised in surprise, then he noted the corners of her lips upturned slightly, slyly; she was teasing him.
“I love you,” he said, suddenly sincere.
She turned to face him, struck by the strength of tone in his words. “I love you too,” she replied, and they stood there for a few moments staring into each others eyes before finally continuing on.
“Duncan,” she said slowly after a minute.
“Yes dear?”
“You forgot my box of chocolates.”

Part 8~ Dogfight

2005-03-28T12:26:00.000-08:00

*Author's note: having never been in a space battle, it is entirly possible I have some of this wrong. If anyone sees any glaring flaws, by all means point them out.
Thanks.

_________________

Alpha Leader N'tau's orders were clear and calm, despite the enemy closing fast. "Evasive manuvers, pattern Echo, on my mark...3..2..1, Mark."

The four ships break formation, pulling away from each other in random directions; the sudden movement making Joe dizzy. "Bloody hell!"

Each Ranger chose it's own course, while moving inside the locking range of the ships opposite them. The drazi, predictably, broke off in response; each ship targeting the closest opponent, but most followed Lindsey and her passenger. They broke off, ignoring the few Ranger fighters nearby.

Her console came alive as it recognized a weapons lock. In response she dropped sharply under the closest Ranger fighter, and as she did so the other Ranger ship swirved and targeted the first drazi ship to pass. Surprisingly, the menacing looking ship dissolved in a starburst pattern of metal. The other drazi ships broke off to avoid the debris. Lindsey could have let them go, but instead flew threw the dissipating debris field to go after the closest of her recent persuers and fires on it, disabling it's weapondry.

"Are you insane?" Joe demands.

"I know what I am doing." she says absently to Joe, then responds with more energy to her fellow Ranger, "Nice shot, Barns."

"Back at ya'" came the energetic reply, then his voice became clipped, mechanical. "We have three more breaking off. Heading our way fast."

"Together, we make too good a target."

"Agreed."

Her small ship swirves again, rolling away from the other. She watches in dismay as all three ships tail her trajectory, and none go after Barnes.

"Bloody hell," she says, echoing Joe's earlier sentinment.

"Why don't you move farther into the astroid field as cover?"

"What? Have you ever flown against the drazi before? I do not want to get into a manuverablity contest with them."

"Why not?"

"Because, they will win."

"Great. I'd like to go back to my ship now please."

"You mean the ones without any defenses? Besides," she adds grimly, "the drazi respect opponents who face them head on."

"Will that keep them from killing us?" He asks pointedly.

"Well... no."

Before he could respond, her comm breaks in, "Lindsey. They are trying to cut you off. Watch your back."

Joe curses in a language she barely recognizes. "So. What's your plan?"

"Shoot them before they shoot us."

"And how...." he begins, but another sudden change in direction cuts his question. She had reversed the engines, coming to a sudden stop. Through the front transparent sheild he can see as the two of their three persuers fly past, surprised by her move and unable to stop. Before they can alter direction, she fires on both in radid succession. She then turns ship around, targeting the third that had managed to stay behind her. In sucessive order, all three ships are destroyed.

"Like that."

Joe is silent a moment, then says appreciatively, "Nice."

"That was too easy, " she says quietly, noting on her console as both Barnes and N'tau take out two more Sky Serpents. The drazi ships weren't as heavily armoured as their Ranger Nials, but they should be harder to destroy...

"Easy? For you maybe!" Joe says, breaking her train of thought. Before she can ask if he wants to fly, their ship is rocked by enemy fire.

"We're hit!" Joe hollars above the din of the alarms.

"I know!" Lindsey yells as she fights to regain control as they tumble towards the unpredictable flight path of several asteroids, but thankfully, in the direction of the rest of the squad.

"Sinclair, you have two more incoming. They're just targeting you. Why?"

"They must know I have the package onboard," Lindsey says quickly.

Joe barks, "Stop calling me that."

"Shut up Joe." she says shortly, then switches her attention back to her comm, "Telepaths?"

"Possible."

She sighs heavily, then says, "Regroup to me. We have to shuffle."

"Agreed." Alpha leader replies.

"Can you make a blanket that big?" Barnes asks, obviously dubious.

"I don't know. Guess we will find out in a minute, won't we?"

They gather in tight diamond pattern, used since the days of dog fights on Earth. As the Sky Serpents reform their line opposite them, the Rangers begin to roll their ships. One after another. Drop, roll under the formation, pop back up in the first open space, then another, and another. The formation constantly reforming, but always moving. As they did this, Lindsey tried to calm her breathing and focus... on only one task.

"What are you..."

"Seriously Joe. Be quiet." she snaps. Then says with more calm, "I need to concentrate."

She can feel him brimming with a retort, but he thankfully keeps silent. Brushing her current peril aside, Lindsey tries to imagine a field... an open field. She alone stands in it....

'Now. Who are you protecting?' Kierna asks. 'See them. Put them next to you.... now, make them a part of you.' Lindsey breaths deeply, slowly. 'You can't force it. This isn't a matter of will. You have to...ask for the protection. Coax it... yes. Like that...'

"Now!" Lindsey says forcefully. The Rangers break apart once again. But this time, the drazi don't follow just Lindsey as she pulls up sharply, away from the others. Each have their own opponent to deal with. 5 to 4. "Much better," she says with satisfaction.

"In the name of Valen...," N'tau breaks in, "I'm reading 12 more Sky Serpents."

"Are you sure?" Joe asks.

"Look for yourself!" Lindsey says impatiently.

"No. I mean, are you sure they are drazi?"

"What do you mean?" Barnes asks, surprising Joe. He hadn't realized the others could hear him as well.

"You said yourself it was too easy. I have a drazi helmsman. Surly, stubborn, and he smells odd, but he is one damn fine pilot."

"I know..." Lindsey says. "It doesn't make sense...." then louder to the comms, "Can anyone get any readings inside the ships?"

"No. Why?" Taroth asks.

"If Joe is right, I think we are up against a ghost fleet," Lindsey explains.

"No pilots!" Barnes says, incedulous, "that explains a lot."

"Now what?"

The question hangs in the void.

"Pilots or no, we still have to get past them." N'tau finally says.

Grim agreements come in on top of each other.

Part 7~ Ambush

2005-03-27T13:45:00.000-08:00

"Captain Cole," the Minbari says with some concern, "we have in-coming."

"Have we located our quarry yet?"

The Minbari punches a few buttons, then pauses to read. "Yes," he says finally. "They are on their way back now..." The Minbari pauses again.

"What is it?" Marcus asks sharply.

"They are moving right into the path of the other ships."

"Dammit! They must have been there the whole time. Open comms." Marcus clears his throat, then speaks clearly into the air, "Alpha Leader. Watch your port side. Ambush."

The comms scratch for a moment, then, "Copy that. We see them."

"The package?"

"On board." Marcus sighs, then smiles as Lindsey cuts in, "and cranky sir."

____________________________________

"Friends?" Joe asks nervously.

"'Fraid not," she replies grimly.

"Is this the danger?"

"A part. Hang on."

Her comm crackles. "Twelve bogies, weapons hot."

"I see them," she answers. "Drazi! Sky Serpents. Heavy fighters. Go for their lateral thrusters... and they have a blind spot in their aft directional wash."

"Acknowledged. You should stay back. Protect the package."

"Package?" Joe repeats, slightly annoyed. Lindsey can't help herself and smiles.

"Easy there," she laughs, then responds into the comm, "The package is secure, but I can't rendevous without engaging. We are to far away."

"Damn," another voice cuts in, "she's right. Hope your as good as your Uncle."

"Each generation surpasses the last," she says with confidence.

"So..." Joe begins, trying to remain calm, "you know what you are doing, right?"

"Yes Joe. Before I became a Ranger, I was a fighter pilot in Earth Force."

"Good to know," he says, not sounding convinced.

"If you want, you can close your eyes." she suggests.

"Well, aren't you helpful," he says peevishly.

The comms crackle again, "Lindsey, starboard. Ten o'clock."

"Acknowledged...." and despite assurances that it is impossible to be affected by directional changes in the vacuum of space, Joe's stomach jumps as she alters course suddenly to engage two harsh looking fighters speeding towards them. "Here we go..."

Part 6~ Gotcha

2005-03-26T13:43:00.000-08:00

"What the hell?" Jenkins looks up from his console. Giving it a light tap with his fingers he hopes the readings would change, and his heart falls when they don't.

"Rangers!" the drazi helmsman spits.

"Calm down," Jenkins replies absently as he moves to the Captains chair. "Are they hailing us?" he asks once seated.

"Aye," the drazi said sullenly.

"Well then," he says brightly despite his misgivings, "let's have a chat. But first, wake up the Captain."

_________________________

"This is Lindsey Sinclair. I need to speak to Captain Joe Dawson."

Right to the point, Jenkins muses appreciatively.

"This is Captain Jenkins of the mining ship Alexa. Captain Dawson is no longer with us."

In the static of the open comm, Jenkins can hear the Ranger women curse and he smiles. "What happened?" she demands after a moment.

"Mining is a dangerous business Miss Sinclair," he begins, and is satisfied to hear her swear again at her sudden 'demotion', "things happen. Men die."

She is silent a moment. Jenkins motions Joe to silence when he enters the bridge. After Joe nods his head in agreement, Jenkins turns back to the comm.

"I don't believe you," she replies simply. Jenkins looks up at Joe as he moves to stand behind him. Noting his raised eyebrow, Jenkins cuts off the comm.

"You recognize the voice?" he states more then asks.

"I might. She used to work at BoBo's. A bouncer I think..."

Jenkins interupts, "She's a Ranger."

Joe closes his eyes and curses. "What do Rangers want with us?"

"Not us Joe. You." Jenkins turns back to the comm, "I don't care if you believe me or not Miss...."

"Look," she cuts in sharply, "You can either put him on the comm, or I can blow apart your little ship and pick him up from vacuum. Your choice."

Jenkins cuts off the comm once again, and both men look at each other.

"Do you...?" Jenkins begins.

"Oh yes," Joe replies grimly, then motions for Jenkins to give up his seat. Once situated, Joe opens the comm. "This is Captain Dawson. Lindsey? Is that you?"

"Captain," she says more warmly, "so you finally got your own vessel."

"And you just threatened to blow it to pieces," he reminds her.

She makes a dismissive noise, but doesn't apologize. "Let me dock Joe. It's important."

Moments later, Lindsey is climbing gracefully out of the cockpit and lands lightly on the deck of the cargo hold. Joe keeps his distance while she disembarks, but moves forward to meet her after she removes her helmut. Despite his unease, he can't help but admire her in her Ranger uniform.

"So," he begins casually, "I don't suppose you came all the way out here and strong armed your way onto my ship to trade used hopper parts."

"No," she says simply, "I came for you."

"Somehow, I don't think I should be flattered," he respondes sarcastically, but she watches his face as he considers the situation with the seriousness he is trying to mask. His features flash from absorption, accessing, resignation, to decision in moments. He would have made a good Ranger, she can't help but think with a touch of sadness.

"My crew?" he asks.

"They can continue their run," she assures him, then adds, "We'll even leave an escort to make sure they get back to Petros Makrinos safely."

"Have I done something..." he begins.

"Everything will be explained. I promise. But we have to go now. You're in danger here."

Knowing it was useless to argue, he says, "I have to gather my things."

"Sure Captain. But be quick."

He turns to leave, but stops just before the doorway.

"You look different..."

She cocks her head for a moment, then smiles broadly. Lifting her hand to her face she says, "the scar. It wasn't real."

His eyes study her features in both the present and his memory, then replies, "You clean up good." Before she can respond, he walks out the door.

Part 5~ a reluctant Capt. Marcus

2005-03-25T13:41:00.000-08:00

Marcus watched as the Rangers under his command filed out, eager to get their mission under way. So many young faces, he thought to himself with a touch of regret. Despite his outward calm demeanor, he was nervous. He never liked command. It wasn't his style. If he was going to put anyones life in danger, it would be his own. Susan had convinced him he was capable, no... worthy, of his own ship. Against Susan he couldn't argue, but at these moments, alone in the briefing room, waiting for... he didn't know what... he wondered if he should have.

One of the on ships crew moved silently to his side. The Minbari, an ever watchful race, could sense his unease and waited for him to initiate conversation.

"Any sign?" he asked.

"Negative Captain."

He sighed in relief, but said nothing more as he moved to the display console. He watched as small blue icons representing the departing fighters moved away from the larger icon representing their White Star. Kierna, you had better be right about this... he thought to himself, cursing the Val'den'kai warrior he called friend.

"Keep scanning. I want to know if anything moves, even a mote, until all our people are back onboard."

"Yes Captain."

"Our squads? What's their status?"

"Clear," the Minbari said calmly, "They are approaching the coordinates. They should be initiating search pattern Beta in... 3...2...1. Now."

Marcus watched as the little icons spread on cue. Right on target, he muses with pride. The two sets of ships break off in the approved pattern, using their scanners to locate their quarry.

Searching for the little mining ship was going to be tedious; made all the more difficult by the fact the details of the ship were sketchy at best. Out in this part of space, adherence to the regulations was something deemed 'opptional' by most in the trade. Something Marcus fully understood and could even appreciate. But in this instance, it made his job harder. Knowing the exact specs of the ship would have made this retrieval easier. The out put of the engines... the configuration of the power supply... all details that couldn't be obtained. The ship and it's crew more a mystery then fact. Only with information that was at best two years old, were the Rangers even sure that Joe Dawson still owned the ship and routinely mined in this section of space. In what would seem to be a coincidence, if Marcus believed in them anymore, Lindsey had known Joe Dawson during her brief time assigned to Petros Makrinos. He hadn't been the object of her assignment, but her Ranger instincts about him at the time were correct. He was someone they should be keeping an eye on.

The problem with blogs.

2005-03-24T13:50:00.000-08:00

I am too lazy to get my own web site, but I wanted a place to post these... well, things, so I started another blog. The only problem with that is that blogs always have the last post up top, which in most cases is fine, but who starts a book at the end? Well, besides me?
So, in order for all the parts of whatever things I am posting, I am maninpulating the dates so that if you- the reader- comes in and I have 6 parts already done, you can just read by scrolling down, instead of up.

And enjoy.

Comments are always welcome, but try to be nice. ;P

Update: April 25th, 2005. I gave up trying to manipulate the dates. Instead, I created handy links in the sidebar that have links to every thing I have posted, in order if more then one post was neccessary to finish... or continue at least. ;)
I was also going to include at the bottom of each post a link to the next, and maybe someday I will do that. Maybe. :D Just don't hold your breath. You'll get dizzy and fall down.
NYP

Part 4~ Lindsey & the Rangers

2005-03-24T13:39:00.000-08:00

“Check,” the Minbari Ranger Taroth of the Mish clan says calmly.

“What? Already?” Lindsey asks, her Australian lilt exagerated by her surprise.

“Do you doubt my accuracy?”

“No, no…” Lindsey says quickly, knowing what it means to a Minbari to have their honesty questioned. She then laughs, “I doubt my ability.”

Satisfied, Taroth muses, “This is a very intriguing game, not unlike ist’dro, but that allows for three players and the ranks of the pieces are kept anonymous from your opponents.”

"Oh," Lindsey says without looking up from the board,“The Minbari have a strategic game with 3 sides and secret ranks? You don’t say.”

“I did say,” the Minbari responds in earnest.

Lindsey laughs again, “I was being sarcastic.”

“Ah…”

“Nevermind,” she says switching her concentration back to the game. She was loath to sacrifice a knight, but it was her only option. Promptly the Minbari takes the piece. Lindsey sighs in frustration.

Watching the human and Minbari was a study in contrast. Taroth, formerly of the Warrior caste, sat straight up calm and composed in her chair, while Lindsey slouched, playing with the ends of her long dark hair, frowning.

“What time have you got?” Lindsey asks evenly,with out looking up.

“We have a half hour until our mission commences.”

“Exactly. We should start getting ready.”

“The game is nearly complete…”

With sudden inspiration, Lindsey moves a rook forward, “It is complete. Checkmate,” and tries very hard not to grin. Her attempts at humility are interrupted as a clear Minbari voice cuts in over the ships communication system. In the precise language of the worker class, Ranger pilots are ordered to report for the mission briefing. The common area Lindsey and her partner are in begins to clear as other pilots immediately moved to obey the orders.

Lindsey watches with a resurgence of awe that would sometimes grip her as members of so many races would move and interact as one. She knew older Minbari ships were not built with common areas for crewmembers to gather. A society that valued it’s privacy as much as the Minbari did not need one, but after her Uncle Jefferey Sinclair had been named as Entil’zha and had opened the ranks of the Anlashok to other races, some adjustments had been made by the Minbari to accommodate and even encourage the interaction of crew.

Before her musings were complete, Lindsey and Taroth were through the doors to the mission room. The design of the White Star, while supremely ascetic, was also the height of efficiency and getting from any area of the ship to another took only a matter of moments. Eager Rangers that were waiting for their final instructions occupied most of the seats already.

“Ahh…Anlashok Sinclair,” a gratingly jolly voice calls out. Without looking, Lindsey can feel heads turn in her direction. “Nice of you to join us.”

As the oldest of three, Lindsey had always wondered what it would be like to have an older brother. That was, of course, before she met Marcus Cole. He volunteered to be her guide on Babylon 5 years ago when she was on leave as the Persephone underwent repairs after engaging Clark loyal Omega Class ships above an unarmed colony in the Kallner system. He was charming and delightful, and the one who first planted the seeds into her mind about joining the Rangers. Little did she know then his charm could be used as a weapon; but she could barely resist smiling. She was sure her attempt at maintaining a demeanor of professionalism was a constant source of enjoyment for him.

“Am I late Captain Cole?” she asks, trying to conceal any hint of familiarity from her voice. His grin broadened, and as he turned away from her to face the room she was sure he winked, which forced her to dig her nails into her palm to keep composure. Bastard, she thought, how does Susan put up with him?

“Simple retrieval people,” Marcus begins as he moves down the center aisle to the front of the room towards the 3D display of the Petros Makrinos system. 7 planets, asteroid belt, and aging sun… she knew it well. “The last know location of our quarry is here,” he gestures to a collection of Trojan asteroids, “You’ve all been assigned a grid. Search pattern Beta and closed comms unless otherwise ordered by your squad leaders N’Tau, Kinby, or by me. We’ll rendezvous here,” he touches the display and a new segment of space comes into focus, “when the package is secured we jump immediately. Questions?”

“Guest or prisoner?” Taroth asks.

“Let’s say ‘person of interest’,” he replies with a grin, causing the gathered Rangers to chuckle.

A human Ranger calls out from the back of the room, "He should be taken alive then?"

"Surprisingly, it does not matter." Marcus says lightly, yet hinting at mystery. She can sense the curiousity of her fellow Rangers, but none pursue the matter.

“Resistance?” A N'tau asks from Lindsey’s left.

“There is always that possibility. If so, engage at will.” Rangers begin to shuffle. “No more questions then?” The room remains silent. “Let’s go … and in Valen’s name, be careful.” For a moment his piercing blue eyes lock with hers and she smiles slightly, sadly, then turns to leave, heading to her ship along with her crewmates. After the past few years working alone or with only one or two partners, Lindsey welcomed this time to work so closely with fellow Rangers as one among many.

“Do you believe this will be a simple retrieval?” Taroth aks.

“I stopped believing in ‘simple’ a long time ago.”

As they enter the launching bays the two women, members of races that almost 20 years ago tried to annihilate each other, paused before separating. Lindsey began with the ritual Warrior class salutation, “Until we meet in starlight.”

The Minbari surprises her when she responds in flawless english, "See you on the flip side."

Laughing, Lindsey turns to board her ship.

Part 3~ Capt. Joe Dawson

2005-03-22T13:38:00.000-08:00

The aging vessel Alexa whispered and groaned as the Drazi at the helm swears, trying to keep the little ship in line with a Trojan meteorite following in orbit of a gas giant.

“Dammit. You broke the bit.” Joe says, lifting his gaze from the small view screen. The Drazi curses again.

Joe responds as patiently as he can, "You can’t force it.” Asteroid mining is a delicate business that requires a meticulous nature and patience, which is why the Drazi are so bad at it. This time their quarry was a cache of pure crystals that had kept them in this piece of space for the past three months. “Ok,” he sighs the rubs his eyes, “whose shift is it?”

“Third, Captain Dawson.”

Captain. Joe smiles to himself. It wasn’t too long ago he was found unconscious, in an abandoned escape pod with no memory of who he was. Penniless, homeless, and now… a ‘Captain’; granted it was over a crew of 11 in a decrepit barley held together ship, but it was a start.

“Alright. Get ‘em out there. Replace the bit… again. Let’s keep it moving. We have a quota... And get Jenkins up here. These relays…” he pauses rubbing his eyes again and yawing, “ are sluggish.”

“Sure it isn’t user error?” a new voice says from behind him.

Joe grins, but doesn’t turn, “User error my ass, Jenkins. An abacus would be quicker.”

“What’s an abacus?” he asks, deadpan.

“A piece of equipment worth more then my engineer… and it would suck up less power.”

“I do not ‘suck up’.”

“I know. You should work on that.”

“Ha… your in a good mood, despite recent set backs.”

“Sleep deprivation.”

“Ah… so, what’s our current capacity?”

“Roan tells me it 87%. But we only have two more days before we have to head back or we won’t have enough fuel and I am not dumping three months of work because of greed.”

“Very sensible.”

“Glad you agree. But we really do need this haul.”

“What you need is sleep. I can watch the shop while I check those relays.”

Joe protests, “I am trying to lead by example.”

“By falling flat on your face from exhaustion? Good plan.”

“Good point.” Joe sighs, “alright… I’m going.”

“I’ll wake you if anything interesting happens,” Jenkins says as Joe turns to leave.

“Is that another joke?” he asks, walking towards his quarters, and towards some sleep; the first he has had in two days.

Part 2 Keirna and Duncan

2005-03-21T13:29:00.000-08:00

He struggles with the over large robe, cursing as his unruly hair tangles in the sleeve.

“Here,” she places a small silver clasp in his hand. Even in his state, he recognizes the trinket and feels the all too familiar tightness in his chest. It was a gift from Tessa…

Sensing his distress Kierna leans close and whispers, “It’s good to remember those who loved us. It reminds us that we deserve to be alive.”

Caressing it with one finger he forgets the moment and his current peril, and instead remembers his lost love. Then, with quick decisive movements and a grim expression, he pulls his hair back into a ponytail and secures it with the clasp. That simple gesture takes the wind from him and before he can slump to the ground again, Kierna catches him about the waist.

“No… no time for this. Come on,” and with dizzying speed she turns him and half carries him to the stair against the wall. “Work with me Duncan…” she says as they begin to climb the steps, “We have very far to go.”

“Where did you get this?”

“From the Watchers. It had been passed down generations.”

“Generations?” he asks, astonished.

“Yes. It’s been about 270 years since Tessa gave that to you.”

He is sweating with the effort and is frustrated to need so much assistance, but even an immortal will degenerate if kept stagnate. It would take time to get his strength back.

“What do you want from me?” He askes finally.

“Want? Nothing.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“The game must end. It is the gathering.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Can’t you feel it?”

He is silent for a moment, then says softly, “Yes.”

They reach the top of the stair and she moves him to the wall so he can support himself while she opens the doorway a small fraction to peer out. Listening for any movements, she is perfectly still. Satisfied the way is clear she wraps her arm about him again and pulls him along with her as they navigate tunnels that wind together with out much rhyme or reason he could discern.

“I hope you know where you’re going, “ he says finally.

“What? I’m following you.”

He looks at her, startled; then is chagrinned to see her lips twist into a sly smile.

“Fantastic,” he mutters in exasperation and her smile broadens, but then grows solemn as they approach an intersection in hallways and tilts her head to one side.

“An alarm,” she says quietly.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“You wouldn’t,” she says moving them both back, closer to the wall.

“How’s your strength?”

“Returning… slowly.”

“I’m not surprised. You’ve been in Sanctuary about 200 years…” her voice trails off; then becomes flat, emotionless. She seemed distracted, and he felt she wasn’t even speaking to him anymore, but to a different audience instead. “… And everything has changed. Humans walk among the stars now. They have suffered intergalactic war, near annihilation, and found peace. Built communities, made alliances… and discovered fantastic things.” She moves a few steps into the hallway, knowing it was an ambush, but deciding to confront it head on, "terrifying things." His head begins to buzz; like when another immortal is near, but this was much less… She turns back to him as he leans against the wall and to his shock her eyes are completely black, like obsidian, and with a thousand voices in one she says, “Like me.”

Reaching with both hands behind her, he sees her release two cylinders- one in each hand. With a small jerk they extend to nearly her height.

“Stay behind me,” she commands with the multi-voice that chills him. Stunned, he doesn’t object. Slowly he is aware of a noise from the dark of the hallway. Soft, whistling.

She curses in a language he doesn’t recognize , and then springs forward as hundreds of jagged pieces of metal fly towards them. With a speed that makes him dizzy, she spins the two long weapons, smashing into the barage of deadly shards aimed for them. Twisting and spinning with frightening accuracy, she knocks each piece to the ground and into the walls around them with each staff working in synconicity. His ears are ringing from the clash of metal on metal but as quickly as it had begun the assault stops.

She steps back, her breathing labored, but remains alert. Without taking her eyes from the hallway, she shrinks the bo like weapons to their original size and returns them to their clasps in the small of her back.

"Stay down," the chorus of voices calls over her shoulder.

Before he can object, four figures move into the light, dancing like snakes in a trance. Is this a dream? They speak in a vile hissing language he cannot recognize, but he understands a challenge when one is made. He watches as Kierna holds her ground, but notices her back stiffen in anticipation. Could she defeat these four creatures? Again, he cursed his temporary immobility.

Next to him, he notices some of the metal she knocked down vibrating, trying to free itself from where it had become imbedded into the wall. Again the buzz fills his head, aching and angry.

"Kierna," he begins, but she sharply interupts him.

"I know," she says through clenched teeth. He can see from his vantage point her eyes closed and her lips are pressed firmly together.

Suddenly the metal strewn about the room sprang up as if alive. The four creatures lift their hands in unison and as they gesture, the swarm speeds towards her from all angles. At the last possible moment she brings her hands up and to his amazement the pieces are halted, inches from her body on all sides. One of the creatures hisses. All four gesture again, this time angrily. The metal quivers but moves no further. Duncan can see that she is sweating with effort and all her muscles strain against the unseen force that is pushing the objects towards her. Slowly, she opens her eyes and relaxes the tiniest fraction. The metal moves in menacingly, but before they can touch her, with the same dizzingy speed she displayed before, her hands move and the metal reacts as if being thrown by her at her opponents. One by one they fall to the ground silently, black blood ozing from their many wounds. For a moment she leans against the wall breathing hard, then walks forward and with her crude knife makes sure they are dead.

"What are you?"

"I've told you," she replies with out looking at him.

After her grisly work is done, she turns back to him and he is releaved to see her eyes have lost their obsidian glaze and are once again the eyes of a human.

"What is 'val' den' kai'?"

"It is Minbari for 'Warrior Child'," she says with a sigh, then explains in short clipped tones, "Your gift is immortality. Mine is death." She sighs again sadly, then continues softly, "It is what I was designed for, and I was designed very well."

"What are you really doing here?"

"Truthfully, I'm here because I am getting paid to be."

"Your a mercenary?"

"Independent contractor," she replies, slightly amused that a nearly 600 year old head hunting immortal could have his sensibilities offended. She kneels in front of him to look him squarely in the eye, "Look Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod, you don't have to like me, but you do have to trust me. We have to get moving, more will come." Just as she finishes speaking, the lights in the hall go out, plunging them both in absolute darkness.

"What are they?" He asks as he allows her to help him to stand once again.

"Drac," she says, "They are former sevants of the Shadows, now allies of the Hand, and they fear only one thing: you."

The Beginning AU-B5/Highlander~ Sanctuary

2005-03-20T13:24:00.000-08:00

It was a blasted, tired little planet not even worthy of a name, with three aging moons that had been falling away for the last millennia as the hulk of rock long ago lost its grasp on them. The atmosphere was thin, but there was just enough for a dusty rust colored wind to blow about one lone figure silhouetted by starlight as she stands on the edge of a large ancient canyon. Weak light from the abandoning moons above reflects off the helmet that hides her features as she peers over the edge, considering. Lifting her arm, she reads a small display on her sleeve: “1.8793 kilometers.” Decision made, she moves back a few meters, runs towards the edge and leaps gracefully into the moon kissed darkness below.

Silently she falls, pulled down by the gravity that could no longer contain the satellites, gaining speed until just before she is swallowed in the impenetrable dark of the crater, a chute opens and both slide into shadow.

Moments later standing in the darkness, the parachute sprawled out on the uneven floor of the crater, she searches with eyes made for the dark, for finding what wants to remain hidden, remain unseen… there… a crack in the rock, nearly indistinguishable from all the other flaws in the wall, yet too uniform to be natural. With stealth, she moves towards it and feeling with gloved hands is able to find the simple latch and move inside.

Air… barely… but enough. The helmet is removed freeing her hair that falls nearly to the ground, luminescent as the moons above and braided with trinkets and bits of mementos from battles fought long ago. With deft fingers, she refastens the clasp to keep her hair from her face, revealing to the darkness tiny gills opening and closing with an even rhythm on the sides of her neck, pulling from the atmosphere any extra molecule of breathable oxygen possible.

Without benefit of illumination, she moves along the hallway, sensing light ahead before actually seeing it. Eventually she comes to an intersection of corridors and as she steps into the middle, a drac glides out from the left hallway as silent as she. She curses to herself but before she can act she is thrown against the wall with the telekinetic power granted to it by The Shadows.

Moving in ways contrary to nature, the lone drac slides towards her, hissing in menace as it dances side to side, blurring, making her dizzy. She can’t help but wonder if it was it gloating. Eternally slow, it creeps forward as she struggles against the force of its mind. Reluctantly, in frustration, she gives in and relaxes. Her apparent defeat emboldens the drac and it moves more quickly to her side, peering directly into her eyes, lingering, and taunting.

The drac, to busy inspecting it’s prize, doesn’t notice it's control of her slacking, and with one freed arm she has the grim satisfaction of feeling flesh tear, bones slice. With one cut, she severs the spinal cord and the once dancing body falls heavily to the ground. The knife was crude, as crude as the latch outside, but deadly and more important to her, it was silent.

Without much effort, she drags the drac around the corner into the darkness and kneels next to the body, waiting. After an hour, satisfied that no alarm had been raised by her presence, she moves into the corridor a second time. Navigating only by a map in her mind, she hurries along the rough-hewn hall to another hidden doorway. This lock is crude and simple as well and she is almost disappointed at the ease of her entry, but brushes such pettiness aside as she gazes upon what she has traveled so long and so far for.

The room is cavernous and unlike the corridors outside, these walls are carved with meticulous care, broken only by thousands of pinpricks of light scattered like stars. The floor is the same onyx black, with an intricate mosaic that winds around the 13 coffin-like structures evenly placed in a wide circle, reflecting the lights above. Was the design on purpose? Did the builders intend to mimic eternity?

Lightly jumping over the rail, she lands softly on the reflective stone floor one story below and walks quickly to the sole structure that is untouched. Standing only slightly taller in height then her, she inspects it for an opening mechanism. Disappointed again by the lack of a sophisticated lock, she almost sighs as she reaches around to the small of her back and pulls from underneath her hair one of her fighting pikes. After releasing it to it’s full length with a soft * snit * uses the long weapon as leverage to pry the case open.

Inside is a man, his long curly black hair acting as a cloak over his naked body. She removes two tubes feeding blue fluid directly into his neck intraveniously, but no other restraint held him in place. Without warning he slumps noisily to the ground. She throws the cloak she took from the dead drac over his shivering form, then kneels down as he tries to forces his eyes open. With one arm she props him up as he struggles to speak and brushes his hair from his face.
His voice weak and shaking he says defiantly, “I am Duncan McLeod of the Clan McLeod.”

She smiles, “Good morning Duncan. I am Kierna Sinclair, of the Val’den’kai. You have been asleep for far too long my friend. The gathering is here.”