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I've wanted to write a Star Control 2 and Babylon 5 crossover fic for some time now, but inspiration didn't strike until recently. So, without further ado, I give you the first chapter.

Starship Vindicator


Captain Zelnick watched with satisfaction as a small armada’s worth of Syreen Penetrator-class ships lifted off from the planet where the Ur-Quan had stored them. Having the Syreen on their side would be a great boon to the Alliance indeed, both in terms of firepower and morale. The thought of the latter made him grin. He was, to put it mildly, looking forward to seeing Commander Talana again.

“All right,” he said. “Looks like this part of the operation’s done. Let’s get out of here before the bugs take notice of us. Mr. Katulas, take us into hyperspace and set course for the Betelgeuse system.”

“Aye, sir,” the helmsman said.

The Vindicator, flagship of the New Alliance of Free Stars, pushed into the redness of hyperspace and was on its way to Gaia, the adopted home world of the Syreen.

“I don’t suppose it would be possible for us to take a little shore leave at the Syreen station?” Katulas asked hopefully.

Lieutenant Amy Moraine, the ship’s comm./sensor officer, scoffed. “So you and all the other men can spend time with the Syreen? And of course we women and all the aliens will just get to sit around.”

“Oh, come now,” Katulas said, grinning. “Maybe the Syreen males are as good looking as the females.”

“Even if they are, there’s only—what?—a few hundred of them in the entire species?” Moraine fired back. “They won’t exactly be fighting over us human ladies.”

Katulas opened his mouth to reply, but Zelnick cut him off. “Enough,” he ordered. “Keep your attention on your instruments.”

Normally his officers’ verbal sparring amused him, but not when they were flying straight through space that the Ur-Quan and Kohr-Ah were fighting in.

Indeed, minutes after Zelnick had ordered his officers to keep their mind on the task at hand, Moraine piped up. “Contact detected to our stern. Speed is consistent with an Ur-Quan Dreadnaught. No course change required to evade.”

Of course, that’s how it always starts, Zelnick thought, feeling quiet dread well up within the pit of his stomach. He allowed none of it to show on his face, however, and merely nodded in acknowledgement.

“I’ll be in my ready room if you need me,” Zelnick said, “Commander Yeager, you have the bridge. Keep me informed.”

“Yes, Captain,” his first officer replied.

Zelnick got up and headed over to the tiny office that was his ready room. It was cramped, but it was a quiet place that he could review all the bits and pieces of information they’d acquired from the various alien races and try to form a complete picture out of them.

Or at least it would’ve been, if not for the constant messages about another Ur-Quan or Kohr-Ah ship on the scopes every few minutes. Katulas changed their course each time so they could avoid an encounter, but it was a task that became more difficult each time they spotted a new hostile, he knew.

Zelnick had made it one of his top priorities to install as many engines as could fit onto the Vindicator back when they had begun this audacious crusade. They were faster than anything else in known space, even the Slymandro probes, but going into Ur-Quan territory was still a risky proposition at the best of times.

Finally, the near inevitable message came. “Captain Zelnick,” Commander Yeager said through the intercom. “Three more hostiles have appeared on our sensors. Lieutenant Katulas has informed me that there is no possible course that will allow us to avoid intercepting them all.”

This is why I’m so glad I’m not a Zot, a Fot, or a Pik, Frungy be damned, Zelnick thought as he strode back onto the bridge. “Activate the Quasi Portal generator,” he ordered.

“Aye, sir,” Katulas said crisply, punching the appropriate controls.

The ship suddenly shook violently enough to throw Zelnick off his feet. The lights winked out before he hit the floor, plunging the bridge into complete darkness.

“What the hell happened?!” Zelnick barked. “Status report! And get some damn lights on in here!”

There was some fumbling around in the dark by the bridge officers, followed by dim emergency lights coming on. Zelnick got to his feet and made his way to his command chair.

“Engineering reports that the Quasi Portal generator’s malfunctioned and been damaged. Also, there’s a problem with the valves in fuel tank number two. We can’t get any juice from it until the problem’s sorted out, and fuel tank number one’s empty.”

No fuel meant no engines or thrusters. Not good things to be without when the bugs come bearing down on you.

“Miss Moraine, where are we?” Zelnick asked. “Have we made it into QuasiSpace?”

“That shock knocked the sensors out of alignment, sir,” Moraine said. “I’ll have them working again in a second.”

“You’ve got half that,” Zelnick said.

Despite the direness of the situation, the corners of Amy’s lips curled upwards in a barely perceptible smile of amusement. “Yes, sir…I’ve got it, sir.” She frowned. “Captain, we are still in hyperspace, but I detect no other ships in the area.”

“Nothing?” Zelnick asked.

“No other ships,” Moraine said. “However, there is a QuasiSpace portal immediately to our stern.”

“Ah,” Zelnick said.

They must’ve jumped into Quasi Space but immediately left it again for some reason, probably because the portal generator the Arilou had given them had malfunctioned, Zelnick reasoned. They had either ripped a new portal in hyperspace or simply fallen out of a preexisting one, like the one they had used to enter QuasiSpace for the first time. With any luck they were light years away from anything that wanted to kill them.

“Status of our escorts?” he asked.

“All escorts are reporting no damage,” Moraine said.

“Unlike us,” Zelnick said. “Order our escorts to hold position. And activate the Umgah caster.”

“Aye, sir,” Moraine said.

The Umgah caster was a communication device so powerful that it could send a message across light years’ worth of distance. Zelnick didn’t precisely know why, but it always got the attention of the Melnorme in a hurry. He could buy enough fuel to fill up the undamaged tank from the alien merchant, and they could be on their way.

He didn’t want to wait for engineering to fix fuel tank number two. Not when there was the slightest chance that they had left a hole in hyperspace for the bugs to follow them through. Zelnick didn’t know if that could really be the case, but given how little they understood the portal generator, he operated under the assumption that anything was possible.

Several seconds ticked by and the expected announcement by Moraine that a contact had been detected coming toward them didn’t come. The seconds turned into minutes, and Zelnick turned to give his comm./sensor officer a meaningful glance.

Amy shrugged. “Nothing on my scopes, sir.”

“Fire the caster again,” he ordered.

“Aye, sir.”

Again, minutes snailed by, but no sign of the Melnorme was forthcoming.

“Where are we, Lieutenant?” Zelnick asked at last.

“Unknown, sir,” Moraine answered. “Pinpointing our location while in hyperspace after being disoriented like we were could take hours.”

“Mr. Katulas, think we can squeeze out enough power from the number one fuel tank to return to normal space?” Zelnick asked.

“There’s less than one fuel unit in the number one tank, but I’ll give it a try, sir,” Katulas said.

Zelnick nodded. “Alert the fleet to our intentions, Miss Moraine. Once she’s done, Mr. Katulas, get us out of hyperspace.”

“Aye, sir,” they both said.

The damaged flagship limped out of hyperspace, followed by its escort vessels. Not surprisingly, they emerged in the void between star systems and the other interesting things in the galaxy.

“Commencing scan, sir,” Moraine said. “I should have our position in a few seconds.”

Her fingers flew over her panel with a grace born out of practice and having everyone's lives regularly depending on her ability to do her job quickly. Zelnick waited for her to give him their position, when she didn't after nearly two minutes, he asked, “Something wrong, Lieutenant?”

“Everything seems…off, sir,” Moraine answered, unsure. “Nothing is quite where it should be. It looks as if there’s been nearly a hundred years of stellar drift.”

“Time travel?” Katulas asked, alarmed.

“Let’s not start jumping to conclusions just yet,” Zelnick said. “Miss Moraine, where does it seem like we are?”

“Right in the center of Umgah space. Orionis cluster,” she answered. “But I’m not picking up any sign of the blobs whatsoever, sir.”

“Once tank number two gets fixed, we should have just enough fuel to return to the Sol system, sir,” Katulas added.

Zelnick nodded and pressed a button on his chair. “Captain Zelnick to Chief Montgomery.”

A few seconds later, the voice of Chief Engineer Andrew “Monty” Montgomery came through the intercom. “What can I do for you, Captain?”

“What’s the status on repairs to the number two fuel tank?” Zelnick asked.

“I can’t be sure at this point, sir,” Monty replied. “My engineers are still assessing the problem.”

Monty tried to hide it, but Zelnick could hear the worry in his voice. Zelnick knew his chief engineer didn’t get worried over just anything; Monty had probably been the only other person besides Zelnick himself to keep a cool head when the Vindicator had been locked in combat over Unzervalt with an Ur-Quan Dreadnaught and taking huge amounts of damage.

“Do what you can, Monty,” Zelnick said.

“Aye, sir,” Monty replied.

Zelnick turned off the intercom. “Miss Moraine, begin broadcasting a distress a call. Say we’re willing to pay for fuel with mineral resources.”

Commander Yeager, Zelnick’s First Officer, started slightly at that. “Captain, can I speak with you in private?”

Zelnick nodded and rose from his command chair. Yeager followed him to his ready room. The instant the doors to the Spartan little office had slid shut, Yeager said, “Sir, with all due respect, is broadcasting a signal wise? What if the Umgah are out there and we attract their attention. Or the attention of something worse. Shouldn’t we just wait for Monty to finish the repairs and then head back through the portal?”

Zelnick forced himself not to smile. Yeager was never one to mince words. “I’d considered the possibility of attracting unwanted attention, Commander, but I feel we need to get moving again as fast as possible.”

Yeager frowned. “Why is that, sir?”

“The portal might close. It could take a month to reopen, or it might never reopen,” Zelnick answered. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Commander. I’m not exactly sure where—or when—we are, but I sure as hell mean to avoid getting stranded here. We’ve got a full fleet of escorts in case something nasty responds to our signal, but with the portal generator broken, there’s nothing we could do if that portal goes.”

“I understand, sir,” Yeager said.

His first officer still didn’t like it, Zelnick could tell, but he apparently didn’t disagree enough that he wanted to go on record as calling the distress signal a bad idea. Zelnick nodded and they returned to the bridge.

“Transmit the signal, Miss Moraine,” Zelnick said as he got back into his chair.

“Aye, sir,” Amy said. “To any friendly ship, this is the starship Vindicator of the New Alliance of Free Stars. We have been damaged in combat with the Kohr-Ah and require assistance. We are willing to pay in minerals for fuel.”

Zelnick sat back in his chair. Now they had to do the thing he hated doing the most: wait.


Minbari warship Blue Star


It had been months since the Blue Star’s sister ship, the Black Star had been destroyed by John Sheridan, or the "Starkiller” as he was coming to be known among the Minbari. Yet the lust for vengeance still burned through the Minbari of the warrior caste and the commanding officer of the Blue Star, Captain Enzil, was no exception.

So when his comm. officer informed him that they had picked up a distress signal that was being broadcast in the human’s language, he felt the thrill of anticipation alight within him.

“Let’s hear it then,” he said.

Not that Enzil really cared about what the savage barbarians had to say, of course. But listening to a human in distress would further whet his appetite to take revenge for the Black Star.

The comm. officer nodded and gestured over the crystalline control panel. The sound of an audio transmission filled the bridge.

“…any friendly…starship Vindicat…of the…Alliance…damaged in combat…assistance…pay in…fuel.”

Enzil frowned. “Why was the message of such poor quality?”

“Their communication technology is somewhat unfamiliar,” the comm. officer answered. “I can probably clean the message up in a few minutes.”

“Don’t bother, they’re clearly humans,” Enzil said.

“Captain, I’ve got them on scanners. Several ships, none of which match or even resemble any known human designs,” the sensor officer said.

“Then they’re probably alien mercenaries working for the humans,” Enzil snapped. “They’re broadcasting in a human tongue and identifying themselves as belonging to the humans’ alliance. They’re the enemy all right. Helm, take us in.”

A blue vortex opened before the Blue Star and the mighty vessel was soon barreling through hyperspace. Enzil sat back in his chair. That there may not be any humans was a disappointment, but those who fought for them would sate his lust for battle nearly as well.

“ETA is two hours, Captain,” the helmsman said. “Shall we come out right on top of them?”

“Negative,” Enzil said. “I want to pick them off one-by-one. Drop out of hyperspace a thousand kilometers away. Arms weapons.”

“With pleasure, sir,” the weapons officer said.

Enzil smiled, pleased that the rest of his crew seemed to feel as he did. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the coming slaughter.

It would be delicious.


Author's Note: I probably should've waited to write this; I've got some B5 DVDs and have been gradually watching them, and I've seen In the Beginning and The Gathering but I've far from watched the entire series. But I wanted to start while the idea while fresh. If I've gotten anything wrong, please feel free to point it out to me.

So, questions? Comments? Shall I continue or throw this onto the scrapheap?

Almost 150 views and no comments? Is it really that bad?

Well, anyway here's chapter two. Thanks to wiki for certain details about both. And who says that wikipedia is useless?



Starship Vindicator
2 Hours Later

“Captain!” Amy exclaimed abruptly, causing Zelnick to start. “I’m picking up a contact leaving hyperspace! A thousand kilometers to stern. Unknown ship. Mass is roughly 25% greater than an Ur-Quan Dreadnaught.”

Katulas gave a low whistle.

“Miss Moraine, open hailing frequencies,” Zelnick ordered.

“Hailing frequencies open, sir.”

“Attention alien ship, this Captain Zelnick of the star ship Vindicator,” he said. “If we have violated your space, we are sorry. We are damaged and need stabilized antimatter fuel. We are willing to pay for it with mineral resources. Once we get it, we’ll all be out of your hair.”

The response to their hail came in the form of a bolt of green energy from the enormous ship. It struck the spine of the Vindicator, landing a direct hit on one of the ship’s cargo modules. The Precursor vessel went spinning through space as if thrown across space by an angry god.

Several members of the bridge crew screamed, the ship’s inertial dampeners overwhelmed by their wild spins. They all would’ve been flung painfully around the bridge if not for the seatbelts their chairs were all equipped with.

Katulas grit his teeth as he tried to stop them, ignoring the horrible centripetal force as best he could. Finally, after several endless seconds, the Vindicator slowed and then halted.

“I won’t be able to do that again,” Katulas announced, panting. “We don’t even have fumes in the number one tank anymore.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Commander Yeager said.

Zelnick wasn’t exactly feeling rosy himself, but he forced down the taste of bile rising in his throat. “Miss Moraine, order the fleet to form up around us, Fortress Square formation,” he said.

“Aye, Captain,” she said.

“Status report,” Zelnick ordered.

“There’s a rupture in one of the cargo modules,” Yeager said, still with a green tinge to his skin. “We’ve lost some of our minerals. All decks reporting some injured crew members.”

Zelnick nodded, then punched the button on his chair intercom. “Monty, I need fuel yesterday.”

“Doing the best I can, sir! Just a few more minutes,” the chief engineer said.

“You’ve got half that,” Zelnick replied out of habit. He knew Monty would get it done as soon as humanly possible.

“Fortress Square formation achieved, sir,” Amy reported. “Enemy ship is closing.”

“Order the Terminators and Fwiffo forward,” Zelnick said. “Tell the cruisers to fire as soon as the hostile is in range. Orz space marines are to standby.”

“Aye, sir.”

Two Yehat Terminators and one Spathi Eluder surged forward toward the behemoth warship. The crews of the ships didn’t mind their orders (with the exception of Captain Fwiffo). It was not the first time they’d entered into such an asymmetrical battle.

The enemy vessel lashed out with an almost lazy barrage of green beams. Fwiffo and one of the Terminators dodged with ease, but one of the Terminators was caught right in the path of the bolt. Captain Heep-eep ordered his ship’s shields raised just in time, and the Terminator took the hit unscathed.

Immediately the nature of the enemy’s attack changed. The huge vessel’s rate of fire increased dramatically, and it began to lash out with a pulse weapon in addition to the beams.

The two Yehat captains cackled with glee, pleased to see that their enemy was taking them seriously. Captain Fwiffo let out a yelp of fear, once again wishing he could be nice and safe beneath an impenetrable shield with the rest of his species. Yet his Eluder continued forward anyway.

The trio of fast attackers closed to point blank range and began to pepper their enemy with weapons fire. They were little more than an annoyance to the huge ship, but they had made other large enemies suffer the death of a thousand cuts before. They were confident they could do it to this lumbering giant as well.

Or they were until it launched a number of fighters. Suddenly the tables had turned, and the Terminators and the Eluder were the ones who had to fend off smaller enemies, while avoiding fire from the fighters’ mother ship the whole time.

Back on the Vindicator, Zelnick resisted the urge to swear. This thing was worse than an Ur-Quan Dreadnaught.

“Miss Moraine,” he said. “Order the Terminators and Eluder to slowly pull back towards us. Tell the Cruisers to keep their trigger fingers ready.”

“Aye, sir.”

Bit by bit, the three ships gave ground, seeming to do so with the greatest of reluctance.

“The Cruisers report that the enemy is within range,” Amy said.

“Good. Order the Terminators and Fwiffo to break and pull back and have the cruisers fire at will,” Zelnick said.

The Terminators and Eluder turned and fled from the huge warship at top speed, just as the three Earthling Cruisers each fired off a one megaton nuclear missile, then another. The six deadly projectiles streaked toward their target.

Only to sail straight past it.

“What happened?” Zelnick demanded.

It wasn’t unusual for the Earthling Cruiser’s main weapon to miss, of course. The targeting mechanism in each missile was far from the most advanced bit of technology in known space. But it only missed when the target was small, when the target was quick, or when the shot was taken at an angle.

The three Cruisers had all had a perfect shot, and the huge enemy warship hadn’t even tried to dodge.

“The Cruisers report that their missiles couldn’t lock onto the target,” Amy said. “It seems to have some kind of stealth.”

“Damn,” Zelnick said softly.

The Vindicator’s skipper was quickly running out of options. He had lured the enemy near only to find that his trap was toothless. If he sent Orz space marines, they would be shot down by the enemy fighters before they could hope to board the enemy capital.

Right now, Zelnick was forced to consider all options, even sending the fleet’s Shofixti Scout forward to use its Glory Device. But by the looks of it, even that might not be enough to stop the monster that was coming toward them.

“Miss Moraine, order the Cruisers and the Nemesis ships to switch places in the formation,” Zelnick said.

“Aye, sir.”

The ships did as ordered, placing the Cruisers further away from the enemy. Ostensibly, this was done because it would take several moments for the human ships to reload their missile tubes and they were almost totally vulnerable until then. And without them, they would not be able to maintain the Fortress Square. All this was true, but it was not Zelnick’s motivation for doing it.

He did it because the nose of the Vindicator was pointed roughly toward the Orz ships, and the flagship was configured with only forward guns.

As he had hoped, the enemy ship maneuvered to face the cruisers, hoping to pick them off before they could become a threat again.

“Captain?” the weapons officer asked.

“Wait for it,” Zelnick ordered. “Wait for it.”

The enemy ship’s weapon emplacements began to glow with malevolent green energy.

“Fire at will!” Zelnick ordered.

The Vindicator’s mighty hellbore cannons erupted again and again, firing spheres of molten plasma at the enemy until they ran out of ammunition. Most of them missed, thanks to the enemy’s stealth, but one struck dead on, burning through the ship’s armor and leaving a huge, smoldering crater in it. It was obvious that if every shot had struck home, their foe would be a burning wreck.

But they hadn’t, and the enemy ship was, while badly damaged, far from destroyed. And it was safe to presume that it was also very, very pissed off.

“Enemy ship has locked weapons onto us.”

Zelnick nodded. The dynamos would not create new plasma in time to fire off any more shots, and his escorts could not hope to destroy the enemy in time…

If the Vindicator was destroyed, the New Alliance of Free Stars would almost certainly follow.

It was, ironically, the Kohr-Ah that saved them. One of their black Marauder-class warships burst from hyperspace and began to head straight for them.

“I’m picking up a broadband communication from the Kohr-Ah vessel,” Amy reported.

“Gee, I wonder what they have to say,” Katulas grumbled.

“On screen,” Zelnick ordered.

The all too familiar image of an enormous insect with red, segmented eyes hanging above a pit of bones appeared on the screen. “We are the Ur-Quan Kohr-Ah,” the Talking Pet spoke for its master. “We cleanse our destiny. You will soon die. Make whatever rituals are necessary for your species.”

“Captain! The Marauder is closing on the unknown hostile,” Amy reported. “The unknown hostile is turning away from us to engage.”

“Well, then, I think I’ll hold off on speaking ‘the words,’” Zelnick said. He hoped it wasn’t too apparent to his crew just how relieved he was.

The unknown enemy’s remaining fighters got close to the Kohr-Ah vessel before it could. The Kohr-Ah vessel responded in the way they usually did to such attackers: it unleashed its Fiery Ring of Inevitable and Eternal Destruction (or FRIED), a deployment of deadly superheated gases.

The fighters were clearly unfamiliar with this tactic, and virtually all of them were caught by the fatal ring. Zelnick winced, feeling an involuntary stab of pity. His forces had taken a considerable number of casualties from that weapon whenever he’d clashed with the Kohr-Ah.

“Sir!”

Captain Zelnick started slightly at the sound of his chief engineer’s voice coming from the intercom. “What is it, Monty?”

“We’ve got the valves working again, Captain,” Monty reported.

“Well done, Monty,” Zelnick said earnestly. “Let’s get the hell out of here before more Ur-Quan show up. Mr. Katulas, set a course for Sol. Miss Moraine, inform the fleet.”

“Course set, sir.”

“All escorts report ready for transit to hyperspace.”

“Engage.”

The Vindicator and her escorts pushed into hyperspace, leaving both the devil they knew and the devil they didn’t behind.

Minbari warship Blue Star

To say that things were not proceeding as Enzil had expected would be an understatement of galactic proportions.

The first unpleasant surprise had been when one of the tiny, crescent shaped ships had demonstrated its energy shields, a technology even the Minbari did not possess. It was then that he realized that this would be serious clash.

Then the largest ship in the enemy fleet had dealt his ship a most grievous wound.

And now he had this monstrosity to deal with.

“Only half a dozen fighters remain, sir. All others were destroyed by the enemy vessel.”

“Recall the fighters,” Enzil said. “We’ll destroy that abomination ourselves.”

“Sir, our neutron guns are off-line,” the weapons officer warned.

“Then we’ll destroy it without them,” Enzil replied. “Ready fusion guns.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Kohr-Ah vessel fired a slew of black, spinning disks out into space toward the Minbari war cruiser. Had a human been around, he might’ve said that they looked like giant shurikens. But the humans had fled, and to the Minbari the weapons just looked very dangerous.

The vaunted Minbari stealth continued to prevent a weapon’s lock, but the Kohr-Ah vessel fired so many of the spinning projectiles that one managed to connect.

The bridge shook violently, and more than one Minbari was thrown off his feet. Part of the ceiling collapsed and missed crushing the ship’s navigator by a hand’s breadth.

“Damage report!” Enzil shouted.

“The damage is substantial. All weapons are inoperable save for electro-pulse guns and our sensors are damaged. Auto-repair will take approximately fourteen hours.”

“Damn it,” Enzil swore. Victory was out of his grasp now. “Full reverse and prepare to come about. Ready the jump engines.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Minbari war cruiser began to move backwards. But before they could get a sufficient distance between them and the Kohr-Ah ship to turn and try to flee into hyperspace, the ship again shook violently with the force of another explosion.

“Now what?!” Enzil demanded.

“It appears that the enemy projectiles eventually cease moving through space if they don’t collide with anything and become mines,” the sensor officer said mournfully. “I’m sorry, sir. I would’ve spotted them if our sensors were fully functional.”

Enzil pounded his fist on the arm of his chair. “Damage report!”

He was starting to hate saying that.

“All engines are down, sir. We’re dead in space, sir.”

The Minbari captain looked around the bridge, desperately seeking some kind of inspiration. He found it when his gaze settled upon the communications officer, a petite Minbari female.

“You,” he said. “You’re a telepath, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir, but I’m not very—”

“Never mind. Just see if you can influence our enemy,” Enzil ordered, and in so doing unknowingly wrote his place in history as the Minbari equivalent to Captain Michael Jankowski.

Kohr-Ah Marauder

Death 23 felt the horrible sensation of another being’s mind probing into its own, like cold and clammy tendrils creeping into the darkest recesses of its brain. And along with it came the equally horrible sensation of fear, an emotion the mighty Kohr-Ah death dealer had never experienced before.

Immediately it responded as all Ur-Quan—Kohr-Ah and Kzer-Za both—were taught from the day they emerged from the egg. It activated the Excruciator that was always worn as a precaution against the return to the Days of Slavery.

Pain ripped through Death 23’s entire body, and it released a strangled scream, the tendrils of its proboscis writhing wildly. The invading mind immediately retreated and Death 23 deactivated the Excruciator, relieved. This one was not nearly so powerful as the Dnyarri had been.

<Telepaths> Death 23 hissed, in the chilling language of the Ur-Quan, which the other races were fortunate enough to be spared.

<Shall we destroy them?> Death’s Hand 3 asked.

Death 23 gave a very un-Kohr-Ah-like order. <No. I want them alive.>

Here I will reply:
It is good so far, but I want to see more to truely judge your fic. Also give your fic a name depending what you want it to be.

Thanks for the comment, fusion. I will take your advise and give this fic a working title.


Minbari warship Blue Star

Boarding actions were not something that the Kohr-Ah did frequently. There was rarely any reason for it, after all. When one’s aim was to annihilate all other intelligent species, taking prisoners usually wasn’t a high priority.

However, even the most obstinate of the Kohr-Ah admitted that knowledge was a weapon, just as their spinning disks and the FRIED were, and often just as necessary. As a result, all Kohr-Ah crews were drilled in boarding procedures, in the event that something like this occurred. It also helped that for all their weakness to telepathy, the Kohr-Ah were physically damned tough.

Death’s Hands 24, 35, and 53 prowled through the enemy warship. The corridors were dark, and they were unfamilar with the layout of the ship. But if a ghost of fear whispered in their minds, it was only because they knew at least one person aboard this ship had telepathic abilities. Their enemy’s weapons and physical strength, unknown though they were, failed to stir any anxiety in the dark insects.

Suddenly, they spied movement.

“In Valen’s name!” an alien voice cried.

A bolt of energy came from a nearby corner, striking Death’s Hand 35 on the thorax, scorching its exoskeleton but doing little other apparent damage.

Immediately the three Kohr-Ah went into action. Moving with shocking speed for their large size, they advanced on the corner. Death’s Hand 24 rushed up onto the wall and then the ceiling, making use of the adhesive appendages that all insects in known space seemed to enjoy. Death’s Hand 35 moved up to the wall, while Death’s Hand 53 remained on the floor.

As they rounded the corner, a small squad of their foes began firing at them with small, silver energy guns. Thanks to the speed of the Kohr-Ah and the panic that the huge, menacing insects inspired, the vast bulk of these shots missed. Those that did connect were just as ineffective as the one which had first struck Death’s Hand 35.

The Kohr-Ah carried weapons, but when faced with such squishy prey, they didn’t even bother to draw them. The Death’s Hands struck with their sharp, iron hard legs, impaling enemy after enemy with the sharp tips until only one remained. The fight took less than twenty five seconds.

The last enemy, who they had deliberately spared, raised his weapon. Death’s Hand 35 knocked it from his hand with a casual flick of one of his legs. The three Kohr-Ah surrounded him, trapping him between a wall and themselves.

Death’s Hand 24 reached for a small pouch that it wore, opened it, and withdrew a Talking Pet, looking somewhat worse for the wear from all the bouncing around it had endured. Still, it obediently translated for its master. “Where is the bridge?” the Talking Pet demanded.

“I’ll never tell!” the enemy replied. “I am Warrior Caste!”

Death’s Hand 24 raised a single, blood soaked appendage to the enemy’s face. “Where is the bridge?” the Talking Pet demanded again. “You cannot stop us. We will cleanse you. The only question is how much the filth will suffer in the process.”

The enemy gulped, a gesture that the Kohr-Ah knew usually signified fear in humanoids. “T-three levels straight up from here.”

“Thank you,” the Talking Pet said, as Death’s Hand 24 impaled the enemy’s torso.

Death’s Hand 24 put the Talking Pet away again and scurried back up to the ceiling. It reached up and ripped out a section of it large enough for the Kohr-Ah to get through.

<Follow me> Death’s Hand 24 ordered his comrades.

Bridge

All attempts at activating self-destruct had failed. In this kind situation, the quantum singularity that powered the ship was normally manipulated to make it consume the entire ship, but that was not going to happen today.

At first, the self-destruct mechanism had refused to function because of all the battle damage that they had sustained. Enzil had ordered his engineers to get it working, but the boarders, these “Kohr-Ah,” had seized engineering before they could.

Reports were coming in from warriors all over the ship. The invaders were unstoppable, and the Minbari were taking casualties and giving ground everywhere.

At least he had managed to get off a message to Home.

Enzil and the rest of the bridge crew all stood behind the consoles, weapons drawn and pointed at the door to the bridge. Even the comm. officer stood ready to fire, though her hands shook. He didn’t know what exactly the telepath had experienced, but it obviously hadn’t been pleasant.

Enzil heard a low, creaking sound. He frowned. “What is that?”

The weapons officer’s expression mirrored Enzil’s. “I don’t…” he trailed off, comprehension dawning.

Part of the floor was torn away from beneath and three enormous black insects exploded from the hole. Enzil and the others opened fire, shooting frantically, but the bugs were so damnably quick that all they managed to hit was the walls and ceiling.

Enzil felt something as thick as his torso and as hard as bone strike him with enormous force, throwing him into the air. The Minbari captain slammed into one of the walls and then collapsed down to the floor.

His mind screamed at him to get up and rejoin the battle, but his body refused to cooperate. He could only watch.

One of the Kohr-Ah knocked the gun from the comm. officer’s hand. In desperation, she again tried to utilize her telepathic powers, directing them at her attacker.

In response, the Kohr-Ah slapped a small device that it wore around its body on a thick belt, then released a deafening wail of pain. Yet even in its obvious agony it was able to advance on the offending telepath and run her through with one of his appendages.

Enzil suddenly realized that she was the only one of his bridge crew that the Kohr-Ah had killed. These insects wanted them alive.

Being a member of the Warrior Caste, he knew that if there was anything his foes wanted which he could deny them, then he must keep it from them.

Enzil looked about and saw a gun that one of his comrades had dropped about ten feet away from him. Gritting his teeth at the immense pain that moving brought, he began to drag himself to it. He stretched his arm out, trying to grab it before the Kohr-Ah finished with the rest of the bridge crew. His fingers brushed the cool metal of the weapon.

One of the Kohr-Ah knocked the pistol away from him, well out of reach. Again one of their powerful limbs came down on him, and Enzil knew no more.

Kohr-Ah Marauder
1 Hour Later

“All of us!” Enzil shrieked. “All of us are telepaths! Please, just turn it off! Turn it off!”

Death’s Hand 2 made a sound of disgust and deactivated the Excruciator that he had fitted to the Minbari.

“Thank you! Oh, thank you,” Enzil said, starting to weep from relief.

“Be silent, Alien,” the Talking Pet that Death’s Hand 2 was using commanded.

Enzil closed his mouth so quickly that there was an audible click as his teeth came together.

Death’s Hand 2 left the tiny room where the Minbari captain was held, taking the Talking Pet with him. He found Death 23 waiting for him just outside. <How is the interrogation proceeding?>

<These Minbari have proven as fragile as most other species> Death’s Hand 2 replied in frustration. <Mere minutes of the Excruciator reduces them to babbling fools, telling whatever they think we wish to hear. Only those things which they all tell us may be trusted.>

<It is of no consequence.> Death 23 replied. <My First Hand has succeeded in accessing the Minbari computers.>

Death’s Hand 2 hesitated. He knew better than to demand information from his superior, but he was very curious. Since they had found and traversed the “tunnel” that the human filth had somehow created, everything had been so strange that he burned with curiosity.

<May I ask what you found?> Death’s Hand 2 asked at last.

<This place is full of threats.> Death 23 said. <I must speak with our leader.>

Star ship Vindicator
En route to Sol

Getting the number two fuel tank working again and escaping the battle hadn’t put much of a damper on activity in the engineering section. Engineers and technicians were still hurrying about, some carefully dissecting the broken portal spawner, others performing maintenance tasks or repairs.

“How does she look, Monty?” Zelnick asked.

The chief engineer sighed. “She’s been better, Captain. I’m afraid I had to do a lot of jury rigging to get the fuel flowing as soon as I did. We’ll get back to base all right, but we’ll need a few days—and help from the engineers at the star base—to get back to a hundred percent.”

“What about the portal spawner?” Zelnick asked. “Any hope of repairing it?”

“We’re giving it a look over, as you can see,” Monty replied, gesturing to it. “But I doubt it, sir. We never understood the thing to begin with. Never even had a clue how long it would last. Maybe if we take it to the Arilou, they’ll be able to fix it.”

“Hopefully,” Zelnick said. “Because if they need another warp unit from a Dreadnaught—”

“Captain Zelnick, please report to the bridge,” the ship’s intercom cut him off.

“Duty calls,” Zelnick said. “See you, Monty.”

Zelnick made his way back to the bridge, where Commander Yeager quickly relinquished the captain’s chair. “Report,” Zelnick ordered.

“Captain, I am detecting hyperspace beacons,” Amy said. “They are of human construction.”

Zelnick sat up straight. “Are you certain, Miss Moraine?”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “They are broadcasting coordinates in Arabic numerals.”

Most ships needed beacons in hyperspace to guide them in order to safely traverse the red plane. That was why most ships rarely left their race’s sphere of influence; to do so was to risk getting lost in hyperspace. There were ways around this, though they all involved certain drawbacks. It was possible, for example, to modify a ship so it could travel away from the beacons reasonably safely, but then it was good for little else. The Vindicator, with its Precursor technology, was an exception to the rule, and that was one of the reasons it was invaluable.

A ship that could travel away from hyperspace beacons was necessary, because the space station at Earth was the New Alliance’s base of operations, and Earth’s small array of beacons had been dismantled following her defeat at the hands of the Ur-Quan.

And now they were picking up signals from Earthling beacons.

“The stellar drift,” Zelnick said. “Could we have really traveled forward in time?”

“I asked Science Officer Hawthorne before I summonsed you,” Commander Yeager said. “But he said there was no way to tell. We don’t know enough about QuasiSpace, or time travel.”

“Well, let’s look on the bright side here,” Katulas said. “If we are in the future, then this means that the Ur-Quan were defeated somehow and Earth was freed.”

“Hmm. It seems like the only way to be sure is to ask the natives,” Zelnick said. “If Earth is free and back in business, then showing up unannounced at Sol might not be such a good idea. Mr. Katulas, see if you can’t find us a system in Earth space that’s likely to have a colony or two.”

“Aye, sir,” Katulas replied.

The helmsman called up a list of all the worlds that were known to be naturally hospitable to human life and found the ones between them and Earth. “Changing course, sir. New ETA is three days.”

“Good,” Zelnick said, sitting back in his command chair.

“Now let’s just hope they’re not too pissed at us for up and vanishing on them about a hundred years ago,” Amy said.

“As usual, your optimism fills the room like a warm spring breeze, carrying the scent of new greenery, my dear Amy,” Katulas said in a mock-dreamy voice.

“Going to be a long three days, Captain,” Commander Yeager commented.

“Indeed,” Zelnick replied, grinning.

Uncharted planet in Kohr-Ah space

Many cultures throughout the known stars had names which might adequately describe the adopted home world of the Ur-Quan Kohr-Ah. Most of these names would have to come from the darkest, most frightening parts of those cultures’ ancient myths, the kind of myths that were created to frighten people into obedience, and retained the power to send chills up one’s spine even after the culture finally abandoned superstition.

A human, if he ever had the misfortune to lay eyes upon this world, would likely label it Golgotha—Place of the Skull. For that is exactly what it was. The dried head bones of alien species without number were practically everywhere on this world, a grisly testament to the lengths that the Kohr-Ah were willing to go to in order to avoid any chance of ever being enslaved again.

The Kohr-Ah, of course, didn’t care what humanity or any other race would call their planet if they were to see it. They called it Matra-Von: Trophy World. The meaning was twofold. First and most obviously, every skull was a trophy, a reminder of a sentient or semi-sentient species exterminated by a Kohr-Ah, a token of a job well done.

Secondly, deep below the surface of the planet was a device of Precursor construction. While it had little in the way of military applications, it was still a marvel, even when compared to other Precursor artifacts. For this device could be used to move the planet through hyperspace and into the orbit of whichever star the Kohr-Ah desired.

After their defeat in the first Doctrinal Conflict, the Kohr-Ah had been reduced to murderous nomads. Ur-Quan evolved to be fiercely territorial by nature, and not having any permanent territory distressed the Kohr-Ah. But traveling through the galaxy and cleansing everything in their path prevented them from settling a new world. Or so they had thought, until they found Matra-Von. Now they were able to take their world with them as they rampaged across the stars, leaving a trail of blood. It was a great comfort to them.

On the ground above the Precursor device sat a great building, made entirely of the bones of cleansed species. It was in this structure of death that the supreme master of the Kohr-Ah resided. He was known as Genocide. No number, because there could only ever be one Genocide at a time.

“My Lord Genocide,” one of his attendants said. “A message is coming in from one of our Marauder commanders. Death 23. The transmission is marked Ultra-Top Priority.”

Genocide turned to face his attendant. Any starship officer could transmit such a message and get Genocide’s immediate attention. The punishment for doing so frivolously, however, was extremely severe, and Genocide subjectively determined what constituted a frivolous transmission. Death 23 must have discovered something of incredible importance to risk such a message. “Show me,” Genocide commanded.

The view screen in Genocide’s chamber lit up, showing the bridge of a Kohr-Ah Marauder. “My Lord Genocide,” Death 23 greeted him respectfully.

“What news have you that warrants an Ultra-Top Priority transmission?” Genocide demanded.

“My ship pursued an independent vessel that dared to encroach upon the battlefield of the Doctrinal Conflict. Somehow, it created a passage into a parallel universe,” Death 23 explained. “We pursed them to this new universe, and have found it full of potential threats. We have discovered that this universe may contain telepaths that rival the Dnyarri in power. I am transmitting all the data we have gathered to you now, My Lord Genocide.”

“Stand guard by the passage,” Genocide commanded. “I will have other vessels join you shortly. You have used the Ultra-Top Priority signal well, Death 23.”

“Thank you, My Lord Genocide,” Death 23 said, closing the channel.

Genocide immediately began to review the data that Death 23 had sent him, and he agreed with the Marauder commander’s assessment. This new universe was filled with filth and, even worse, potential threats. Its cleansing must take priority, but for that to happen, Genocide had to make a call he had never expected to make.

He gave the order to one of his attendants, and waited until the desired being appeared on his view screen.

“Genocide,” Master One of the Ur-Quan Kzer-Za said. “Why have you contacted me?”

Genocide stared evenly at his counterpart. “I wish to declare a ceasefire in the Doctrinal Conflict so we may unite to address a great threat. Allow me to explain...”

What the heck did B5 do to you?

Definitely an interesting crossover.

Well, there was this one time me, Londo, and G'Kar went for a drink...

Seriously though, the way I've got it planned, things won't be so bad for the B5 races...mostly...and with a few exceptions.

Uncharted Planet

The universe had never been kind to the Androsynth. Created to be genetically ideal, they had been enslaved thanks to the paranoia of their parent race, humanity. Through courage and cleverness, they had broken their chains, fled from Earth, and made a new home in the Vulpeculae cluster.

They did not have much time to enjoy their freedom. The Ur-Quan had swept through the galaxy like a hurricane, enslaving all those that they conquered, and the Androsynth had had no chance against them. They had opted to become battle thralls, to at least gain a chance for revenge against humanity in return for their forced servitude. They had taken their rage at their new masters out on their old ones.

And when the war was won, the Ur-Quan had disappeared, leaving their battle thralls to their own devices. The Androsynth had dared to believe that they had seen the last of them, and they had returned to the pursuit of science and building their civilization.

Then, the Androsynth had disturbed something best left alone, and they had attracted the attention of Them.

Only a few hundred Androsynth had escaped, using the Interdimensional Fatigue technology, the very thing that had brought their downfall, to flee to a different world in a different dimension.

And of course it would have to be a hellish rock like this, CRC-16 thought, as he went about the work of trying to plow the hard, barren fields. No vegetation we’re aware of, but somehow there’s still plenty of predators! What did we ever do to deserve this?

“Good day, Governor.”

CRC-16 looked up to see Windows 3.0, one of the youngest survivors. Like CRC-16, he was going about the possibly futile task of trying to farm the rocky land.

“I’m not exactly governor anymore,” CRC-16 said. “And this certainly isn’t Server.”

Windows 3.0 grunted in reply as he tried to pry up a shovelful of iron-hard earth. When he finally managed to achieve this small feat, he said, “AK-47 dreamed about Them last night.”

“Damn,” CRC-16 swore. “How…how was he?”

“Same as everyone else who dreams about Them,” Windows 3.0 said sadly. “Dead, his corpse covered in cuts. Governor, the drugs we used to erase our memories of Them…they weren’t sufficient. We need more.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” CRC-16 demanded. “Our final rush here was so hectic, we didn’t bring many of the things we need! If we had more of the drugs, I would order them to be used!”

“I…I apologize, Governor,” Windows 3.0 said, bowing his head respectfully.

CRC-16 sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s not your fault that the final evacuation was so hectic that many of us grabbed the wrong things. We may not have the drugs we need to keep Them away or the technology to reproduce, but we’ve got the schematics for our Guardian-class warships.” He shook his head sorrowfully.

Windows 3.0 gave the elder Androsynth a grim smile. “As useless to us as the gold and silver from the ship was to Robinson Crusoe.”

CRC-16 rolled his eyes. Not long before the IDF research had brought the attention of Them, Windows 3.0 had gotten into the old archives of Earth literature they had. He’d developed a habit of quoting the various works, which irritated most of the others, who wanted nothing to with anything from Earth. Yet Windows 3.0 continued to do it, in spite of (or perhaps because of) how much it annoyed people.

“Not unlike your knowledge of Earth literature,” CRC-16 grumbled. “What would be useful would be the ability to go to sleep without having to worry that They’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“They hath murdered sleep.” Windows 3.0 said.

CRC-16 sighed. “Shakespeare?”

Windows 3.0 nodded. “Macbeth.”

CRC-16 was saved from hearing any more Earth poetry by a scream from nearby. The two men ran toward the source, finding another of their number under attack from a huge, white flying creature.

CRC-16 and Windows 3.0 struck out with their simple farming tools, striking the alien beast while avoiding its razor sharp claws. “Get off of him, you harpy!” Windows 3.0 shouted, bringing his shovel down for a particularly hard blow to the monster’s hide.

Outnumbered, the creature flew off leaving its prey, but the damage had been. The bird’s victim, NECRO-99, was sprawled out on the ground, bleeding freely from deep cuts all over his body. He looked eerily like he had dreamed of Them.

A great pang of sorrow welled up within CRC-16. The Androsynth seemed doomed to slowly dwindle away into extinction, and he was helpless to stop the death of his people.

“This is how the Androsynth end,” Windows 3.0 breathed, “not with a bang, but with a whimper.”

Sa-Matra

Unlike Matra-Von, the enormous Precursor relic that the Kzer-Za used as their portable capital would not have repulsed an outsider. Quite the contrary, in fact. Not only was the Sa-Matra a feat of engineering that was as exotic and interesting looking as it was devastating, much of it was absolutely packed with great treasures and works of art, so much so that it rather resembled an overcrowded museum.

The vast bulk of these treasures, however, came not from the Ur-Quan. They were the works of the many great civilizations that the Ur-Quan had conquered. It wasn’t exactly plunder, as the Ur-Quan didn’t take it from those they had conquered to enrich themselves, but because they were afraid of what might happen if their slaves were allowed to keep it. When the Ur-Quan conquered a new world, they identified everything on it that was potentially an important Precursor artifact and, depending upon whether or not circumstances allowed them the luxury of time, they either took them or destroyed them. Of course, they usually took or destroyed a great many things made by the natives in the process, but the Ur-Quan didn’t allow a little thing like that to bother them.

While the artifacts of a thousand enslaved civilizations practically littered the ship, there was one chamber that nothing alien was ever allowed to touch: the Central Nest. It was from this immense room that the Thirteen Masters reigned.

Of course, the Ur-Quan Masters rarely, if ever all convened at once in the Central Nest, but holographic technology allowed the Masters that were away to be present in all but fact.

After speaking with Genocide, Master One had immediately gathered his fellow leaders to discus the Kohr-Ah’s proposition. “You have all already reviewed the information sent to me by Genocide,” Master One began. “How do you believe we should respond to his offer?”

“We should reject it,” Master Ten said. “It is probably a trick.”

“Deception has never been the way of the Kohr-Ah,” Master Four disagreed. “They are a people who often feel compelled to explain their motives to their victims. And as of now they have no need for ruses; they are winning the Doctrinal Conflict.”

“Which is exactly why we should accept their offer,” Master Two said. “Stopping the Doctrinal Conflict for a time and fighting these new threats may disrupt the balance of power between us. If we have a chance at that, we must accept.”

“Do not be so naïve as to believe that accepting the Kohr-Ah’s offer will end the Doctrinal Conflict. It will merely change the nature of it,” Master Eleven snapped. “Accepting the offer will give the Kohr-Ah free rein to kill everything we do not enslave first. It will become a race, and the Kohr-Ah’s path will be awash with blood.”

“If we were that concerned with lower forms of life, we would not have allowed the Kohr-Ah to leave after the first Doctrinal Conflict was won,” Master Five said. “This galaxy that the Kohr-Ah have discovered is full of great threats. They must be neutralized as soon as possible.”

“Indeed. After we win the Doctrinal Conflict,” Master Eleven said.

“Enough,” Master One broke in. “Let us put this to a vote.”

Decisions among the Thirteen Masters were made by simple voice votes. It took only a few moments for them to decide. Masters Ten and Eleven voted against accepting Lord Genocide’s offer of a ceasefire. The other Masters all voted for it.

“Very well,” Master One said. “It is decided. Now the question is, will we bring our combat thralls with us?”

“All of you know my feelings on this matter,” Master Three said. “Having slaves to augment our strength is an essential part of what makes the Path of Now and Forever superior to the Kohr-Ah’s Eternal Doctrine. We should have used them to help us fight the Doctrinal Conflict, and we should bring them with us now.”

“The Kohr-Ah would view us as weak for relying upon the strength of lesser beings,” Master Five said.

“What the Kohr-Ah think is not important,” Master Three replied. “If the Kohr-Ah had been in our place in the last war, only the might of the Sa-Matra would have saved them from destruction at the hands of Alliance. It was not so with us.”

“We do not need our battle thralls to equal the Kohr-Ah,” Master Eleven said peevishly.

“Then why are we losing the Doctrinal Conflict?” Master Three asked.

“Because the Shofixti found a Precursor bomb!” Master Eleven replied.

“Stop,” Master One commanded. “We will vote on this as well.”

This time there was only one dissenting vote. “It is decided, then,” Master One said. “We will not bring our combat thralls to this new galaxy. This meeting is over. Return to your duties. I must contact Genocide and tell him of our decision.”

Valen’tha

The chamber of the Grey Council was in total darkness except for ten spots of light upon the floor. Nine of these were arranged in circle, with the tenth in the center. From the darkness emerged nine hooded figures, each stepping into one of the outer points of light.

“The war continues to go as expected,” Satai Coplann told the rest of the Council. “We estimate that within a few months, we will reach Earth and be able to finish annihilating the humans.”

Another Warrior Caste Satai, Narial, cleared his throat. “There is a small mystery which we should address. Not long ago we received a message from Enzil, captain of the Blue Star. He reported that he had encountered a small fleet of mercenaries working for the humans, engaged them, and sustained damage. The message became garbled at this point, but he seemed to have said his ship was then attacked by a race identifying themselves as the ‘Kohr-Ah.’ The rest of the message was lost. I sent a ship to investigate, and it found only the wreckage of the Blue Star.”

“Then perhaps we should investigate further,” Delenn suggested. “If there is a new threat in the galaxy, we should not ignore it.”

In truth, Delenn was not terribly worried about these Kohr-Ah, whoever they were. But she had been looking for a way to end this war practically since it had begun and was willing to grasp at straws by now.

“I doubt that we have anything to worry about,” Coplann said. “I knew Enzil. He was loyal and brave, but he had a quick temper as well. Most likely, he began a fight he could not finish with his ship damaged. No one will go to war because of a hot headed captain.”

“We did,” Delenn pointed out.

Coplann frowned. “With a clearly inferior race that killed our greatest leader. No one will dare attack the mighty Minbari Federation. This I assure you.”

more, nice. However, it seems alittle bit garbled at some points

The reason for the garbledness is probably that I recently switched over from just writing this without having any real idea to where I was going to having a whole outline from start to finish. The first couple of chapters didn't fit perfectly with the outline. Perhaps after I'm done I'll go back and revise the first few bits so they fit more neatly with the rest. But enough of my ramblings and excuses, let's get to the next chapter.



Beta 7 System
EAS Lexington

“I hate this,” Commander Sheridan complained over breakfast.

Captain Thomas chuckled. “So eager to go back into battle against an enemy that hates you…specifically?”

Ryan Thomas was a white haired, old man whose commission in EarthForce had been recently reactivated in response to a shortage of experienced captains. He was a veteran of the Dilgar War and had some reputation for remaining cool even in the most stressful of circumstances. So far as Sheridan had seen, this reputation was richly deserved. Thomas liked to say that he was able to keep calm in this war because he was so old, and he’d been able to keep calm in the Dilgar War because he’d been so stupidly brave.

If Sheridan had the power to go back in time and replace Jankowski with anyone of his choice, it would be Captain Ryan Thomas.

“Eager to be doing something—anything—not necessarily fighting, sir,” Sheridan said, answering his superior’s question. “When I went to try and make peace with the Minbari, that was something, but all this waiting is driving me crazy. Every time they advance, we’re ordered to pull back even further away from the front.”

Thomas shrugged. “EarthDome can’t let you get killed; it’d be too much of a blow to morale. The Lex won’t see combat again until the Minbari are right on Earth’s doorstep and morale doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Sheridan said, taken aback by how bluntly his CO had put it.

“I hope not either,” Thomas said softly. “But you’ve already done your part in trying to stop it. You might as well try and relax while you can. Nothing’s going to come here before they tell us to move back again.”

Captain Thomas’s link beeped suddenly, as if on cue. Frowning, the aged officer slapped the little device. “Thomas here.”

“Sir,” came the voice of the ship’s second officer. “We’re detecting multiple unknown ships on the edge of the system. They are approaching our position.”

“I’m on my way,” Thomas said.

“Nothing’s going to happen, sir?” Sheridan couldn’t help grinning.

“Even the best of us can be wrong sometimes,” Thomas replied as the pair made their way to the bridge.

Sheridan was tempted to ask what that had to do with Thomas, but decided against it. It wasn’t a good idea to take jabs at one’s immediate superiors, no matter how good their sense of humor was. The trip to the bridge was a silent one.

“Report,” Thomas replied as they strode onto the bridge.

“We’re detecting eleven ships of unknown design and origin, sir. One of them has roughly the same mass as a Minbari Sharlin-class. They appeared in the system just a few moments ago, but didn’t generate a jump portal upon leaving hyperspace.”

“Never heard of a ship that could do that,” Sheridan said softly.

He went over to the tactical station, where wire frame images of the unknown ships were cycling through on the screen. Some of them looked vaguely like something out of a 20th century science fiction show. Three looked slightly fish-like, and two had a crescent shape that made them look like boomerangs. One reminded Sheridan of the plastic models of molecules from his high school chemistry class, and another diamond-shaped ship was so small it was barely bigger than Starfury.

But the one that really caught his attention was by far the biggest of the little group. It was a long, fairly thin ship, with two thinner…nacelles? Landing pylons? They didn’t know. But the weapons emplacements near the front were easily apparent, as was the battle damage the ship had, even on the tactical readout.

Sheridan silently prayed that these people were allies, or at least not enemies. He knew it was unrealistic to expect some mystery force to swoop in from nowhere and save the Earth Alliance, but he didn’t think it was too much to ask for that no new foes arrive to make the situation even worse.

“Captain, we are being hailed by the lead ship.”

“Let’s hear it,” Thomas ordered as he seated himself in the command chair.

Loud static suddenly came from the bridge speakers, causing everyone to wince. Captain Thomas gave the communications officer a look. “Ensign Janson?”

“Sorry, sir,” the ensign said, looking sheepish. “They’re using an unfamiliar transmission format. Adjusting receivers to compensate.”

This time actual words came from the speakers. “—I say again, we are not here with hostile intentions.”

“Well that’s good news,” Sheridan said softly.

Thomas nodded to Janson to begin responding and said, “We missed the first part of your transmission due to some…hardware problems,” he said. “Could you please identify yourself again?”

“Of course. This Captain Augustus Zelnick of the star ship Vindicator. We are from the New Alliance of Free Stars. We have, ah, lost our way. Please, who are you and where are we? And what year is this?”

The last question caused Thomas to frown in confusion. “I am Captain Thomas of the EAS Lexington,” he answered, “and you are in Beta 7, which is the territory of the Earth Alliance. The year is 2247.”

There was a long pause before Zelnick spoke again. When he did, he sounded very uncertain but hopeful. “Earth Alliance? Then the Ur-Quan have been defeated and the Earth freed from the shield?”

Thomas and Sheridan shared a bewildered look. “Captain Zelnick,” Thomas said. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never even heard of these Ur-Quan.”

Again, there were long moments of silence before Zelnick replied. “Have you lost all historical records somehow? The Ur-Quan enslaved Earth after their victory in the Great War. It's impossible that they could've been forgotten otherwise.”

Zelnick hid it well, but Sheridan was able to detect just a tinge of desperation in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” Thomas said. “Our historical records are all very much intact, and Earth has never bended knee to any alien race.”

“In that case,” Zelnick replied, “it looks like things are even more complicated than I feared. Captain Thomas, I think it would best if we met in person.”

“Very well,” Thomas said at once. “You may come aboard the Lexington in twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes it is, then. Zelnick out.”

The bridge of the Lexington was quiet for a few seconds, until Sheridan commented, “Well now, there’s something that doesn’t happen everyday.”

Thomas grinned ruefully. “All I care is that it doesn’t look like they’re about to start shooting at us. You have the bridge until they get here, Commander. I need to send a report back to command about this.”

Starship Vindicator

Whenever circumstances forced Zelnick to reveal his first name, Katulas usually had to force himself not to snicker aloud. Have the surname Zelnick, it seemed to him, was bad enough, but to have Augustus as one’s given name as well was just too much. Once, while they were both off duty, Katulas told Zelnick that as soon as one of them was out of the military or if Katulas ever had an equal or greater rank than Zelnick, he would always refer to him as “Gusto.” Zelnick had replied by saying that he’d rise to the position of the Star Control Chief of Staff and make sure Katulas was never allowed to leave the military.

Now, despite the reminder of one of his favorite jokes, Katulas didn’t feel at all like laughing. Indeed, everyone on the bridge felt stone cold sober as the realization that they were even further from home than they’d thought sank in.

Zelnick sighed. “There’s no way we’ll be able to dock with the Lexington. Commander Moraine, signal the Quickpaw. We’ll use it as a go-between.”

“Aye, Captain,” Amy said.

“And contact Science Officer Hawthorne,” Zelnick added. “I want you and he to accompany me on the Lexington.”

“Shouldn’t you take a Xeno-Protocol officer along with you as well, Captain?” Commander Yeager suggested.

Zelnick smiled. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Commander. We are dealing with humans, after all. The fact that we didn’t need to use the translator to understand them corroborates their claims to be from Earth,” he said. “You have the bridge, Commander.”

Zelnick left the bridge for his little office, planning to make a log of recent events and hopefully clear his head a little bit before it was time to head to the Lexington. He had feeling he was in for a confusing experience.

Better than the last one, but there are mild cases of unclearness (unreal word) . However, not bad continue, I want to see this keep going

What's unclear to you? Am I making too many unexplained references to the backgrounds of the B5 and SC2 or is it something else?

Anyway, please keep up the reviews. I couldn't keep writing this thing if it seemed like I was telling it to myself.



Starship Vindicator

Science Office Hawthorne was anxious.

Actually, that was an understatement. Hawthorne was so nervous that he felt like he was going to vomit any moment now, and they hadn’t even left for the “alien human” ship yet.

They had apparently created some kind of anomaly in QuasiSpace, a realm that humanity hadn’t had the slightest clue existed a few years ago, using the Arilou Portal Spawner, a device that no human even claimed to understand. Now, they were in some kind of future that had no memory of their foes.

And the captain was going to want him to figure all this out. He knew he never should’ve accepted this job.

The previous Science Office of the Vindicator, Bukowski, had gone insane as a result of investigating the notes about Interdimensional Fatigue Technology, found in the ruins of the Androsynth’s world. Hawthorne, then an ensign, had been on that away mission. He had witnessed Bukowski, once a gregarious and confident man, turned into a raving lunatic who was a danger to himself.

The memory of Bukowski ranting about how “They” could see him was enough to send shivers down Hawthorne’s spine all over again.

When Captain Zelnick had offered him the post of Science Officer, Hawthorne had very seriously considered refusing. He might well have, if not for the fact that by then they knew enough about the nature of the Kohr-Ah and the Doctrinal Conflict to know that the clock was ticking. If they didn’t make the New Alliance of Free Stars into a fighting force even more potent than the old Alliance had been before the Ur-Quan were finished with their little family feud, every sentient race in the galaxy besides the Kohr-Ah was in grave danger of extinction.

Every single day was precious, and training someone from the star base to be the ship’s new Science Officer would take time. Hawthorne had had enough experience to take up the role right away, and he had done so, despite his considerable misgivings.

It was times like these that made him regret that decision.

“Mr. Hawthorne?”

He started suddenly. “I’m sorry, Captain,” he said sheepishly. “I must’ve gotten lost in thought for a moment there.”

“I need you with us in mind as well as body, Mr. Hawthorne,” Zelnick said, amused.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

The door to the ship’s main airlock opened, revealing the inside of the Quickpaw, the fleet’s lone Shofixti Scout. One Shofixti was waiting for them. Hawthorne again marveled how fierce the marsupial beings could look, despite having an average height of only a meter.

“Captain Sagara,” Zelnick greeted. “Permission to come aboard?”

“Always, Daikon,” Sagara said. “We are honored to have you on our ship.”

Sagara showed them to a bench where they could sit until they docked with the Lexington. Unsurprisingly, it was very cramped, but they would only have to endure it for a few minutes.

“Sir, if I may ask…Daikon?” Hawthorne said.

Zelnick merely scowled, but Amy grinned softly and quietly explained, “Daikon was a great hero from Shofixti myth. According to the myth, Daikon would return in the Shofixti’s darkest hour and bring about the rebirth of the Shofixti race. When we gave the Shofixti maidens in the cryo-chambers to Captain Tanaka so they could repopulate the species, they decided that the captain was Daikon reborn.”

Zelnick nodded. “Letting them think I’m Daikon ensures that the Shofixti give a hundred and ten percent to the cause, and God knows I’ve done worse for Earth and the Alliance, but I don’t like it.”

“It’s not exactly fraud, sir,” Amy said. “You do qualify.”

“How? Daikon was a Shofixti wasn’t he?” Zelnick hissed. “How could I possibly be him?”

“The myth of Daikon specifically states that when he returned, Daikon would be a ‘Shofixti who is not a Shofixti.’” Amy said. “You’re a human, therefore not a Shofixti. But if you’re the reincarnation of Daikon, then you are a Shofixti, in a way.”

“Ridiculous,” Zelnick scoffed. “The Shofixiti only believe that nonsense because they were only uplifted by the Yehat such a short time ago. No race that’s been sophisticated and space faring for very long could retain those kinds of crazy beliefs.”

They felt a small jolt go through the ship, and Captain Sagara returned and announced that they had docked with the Lexington. The three humans got up and filed back toward the airlock. Sagara stopped Zelnick as he was heading out.

“Daikon,” Sagara said. “It is all right that you do not believe. It was written that you would not know your past life when you returned, nor would you accept it easily.”

Zelnick started. He’d been sure that the Shofixti wouldn’t have heard them. Sagara grinned, revealing several razor sharp teeth. He pointed to one of his large ears. “Shofixti have much better hearing than humans, Daikon,” he said, amused.

Zelnick nodded and hurried to the airlock.

EAS Lexington

Thomas and Sheridan stood by the airlock as it cycled, waiting for Captain Zelnick. Thomas looked as placid as ever, but Sheridan was burning was curiosity. Who were these people? They had strongly implied that they were humans, but where had they come from? Were they the descendants of some long lost human colonists, perhaps? Why was their fleet such a strange hodgepodge of radically different designs? And most importantly, could they help fend off the Minbari?

Finally the airlock door opened with a hiss, and they got their first look at Zelnick. Sheridan was shocked by what he saw. Augustus Zelnick was an unremarkable enough looking man, fairly tall with dark brown hair, and a medium build. The uniform he and his human associates were wearing would’ve had to be dresses to look less like EarthForce uniforms. They were almost all red, with white collars, cuffs, and shoulders. Gold buttons and rank insignia adorned them, but that wasn’t what so surprised Sheridan.

Zelnick was young. Very young. He looked like he might not be out of his late teens yet. An officer that young should’ve been dealing with some minor post on the graveyard shift, if he was lucky enough to see the bridge of starship at all. Commanding a small fleet? Hell no, not even if his daddy was an admiral.

He was accompanied by a petite blond woman with vivid green eyes and a sandy haired man, both roughly the same young age as Zelnick. Sheridan glanced behind them and, to his further surprise, noticed a furry, bipedal alien. It looked a little scary, even though it only came up to the woman’s waist.

“Welcome to the Lexington, Captain Zelnick,” Thomas said, shaking the younger captain’s hand. “This is my first officer, Commander John Sheridan.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Zelnick said politely. “This is my comm./sensor officer Lieutenant Commander Amy Moraine, this is Science Office Hawthorne, and this is Captain Sagara, who was kind enough to ferry me here.”

“It was my honor, Captain,” Sagara replied. “I shall return to my ship and await your return.”

He gave a quick bow to Zelnick, then one to Thomas before striding back into the airlock. Sheridan watched the odd little creature go. This just kept getting weirder.

“Please, follow me,” Thomas said, heading off down the hall. “I must apologize in advance for the accommodations. The Lexington isn’t a diplomatic or command ship. I’m afraid my quarters are the best we can do for a meeting place.”

“Please, there’s nothing to be sorry about,” Zelnick said. “After all, we were the ones who showed up here unannounced. We should be the ones apologizing.”

“No need there, either. We were just getting bored,” Sheridan quipped.

They reached Thomas’s quarters and went in. They were simple, but larger than anyone else’s onboard the Lexington. Sheridan wondered idly if the very young captain Zelnick had bigger quarters. “Please, sit,” Thomas said, gesturing toward a small table and a number of chairs.

The chairs were mismatched; some of them had been brought in just for this meeting. Zelnick and his two officers sat down without comment.

“So you were the one who requested this meeting, Captain Zelnick,” Thomas said, prompting Zelnick to explain.

“Right,” Zelnick said, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “You see, the last time I knew where—and when—my fleet was, we were fleeing from Ur-Quan forces. I ordered the activation of a device called a Portal Spawner, which had been given to us by allies of ours, the Arilou Lalee’lay. It usually allows us to escape from Hyperspace into a realm called QuasiSpace. Our enemies can’t follow us. But this time, the device malfunctioned.”

“And you wound up here,” Thomas said.

Zelnick nodded. “First we were attacked without provocation by some huge, blue ship we’d never seen the likes of before. And now we seem to be ninety years in the future. It was 2157 when we left. But you’ve never heard of the Ur-Quan, so we don’t have a case of ‘simple’ time travel on our hands.”

“Huge, blue warship?” Sheridan asked.

Zelnick nodded. “It looked vaguely fish-like. Actually kind of pretty, really,” he said. “We transmitted a distress signal because we had some damage from the Spawner’s malfunction. The portals between QuasiSpace and Hyperspace usually last only a few seconds. This one wasn’t closing, but I still wanted to get back as soon as possible. Anyway, this blue ship shows up in response to our distress call and just opens fire on us.”

“Sounds like a Minbari warship,” Sheridan said.

“Minbari?” Moraine asked.

“They’re a race we had a disastrous first contact with not too long ago,” Sheridan said. “They’ve declared a jihad on us, and whenever one of our ships transmits a distress signal, they come to finish them off. They’re very powerful. I’m impressed that you managed to survive the encounter.”

“Dumb luck is all that saved my ship,” Zelnick admitted. “The Kohr-Ah were able to follow us, and they started fighting with the Minbari. We were able to finish repairs and slip away while they were at it. That’s the reason we can’t head back to the portal; the Kohr-Ah are almost certainly guarding one side or the other.”

“Kohr-Ah?” Sheridan asked.

“They’re a subspecies of Ur-Quan that we had the displeasure of encountering fairly recently,” Moraine supplied. “Unlike their cousins, the Kzer-Za, who wish to enslave all sentient life that isn’t Ur-Quan, the Kohr-Ah want to wipe out everyone besides them.”

“Sounds like they and the Minbari deserve each other,” Sheridan commented.

“I think we’re getting off track here,” Thomas said. “Captain Zelnick, I’m willing to believe your story so far, if only because of how unusual your fleet’s ships are. You’re obviously not from around these parts, at least. But if you’re not our past, then what are you? From some alternate reality perhaps?”

Zelnick shrugged. “Crazy as it sounds, that’s starting to seem like the most feasible answer. But I don’t know if that’s even possible.”

He looked to Hawthorne, who could only spread his hands helplessly. “Captain, I wish I had answers for you, but I don’t. We didn’t even know that a place like QuasiSpace existed before we began this campaign. We never even guessed that it could. I just can’t accurately speculate on where you can get from QuasiSpace, no human can.”

“This is indeed very complex,” Thomas said. He smiled. “I like leaving the complexities to the politicians and the eggheads whenever I can. Captain Zelnick, why don’t you allow the Lexington to escort your fleet back to Earth? Perhaps we can help each other.”

Zelnick only had to consider briefly. They were lost and alone in an alien galaxy, and they were starting to run low on fuel. “I’ve always wanted to see what the Earth would look like without the slave shield, Captain.”

Interlude, Several Months Later

G'Khamazad, Narn

In a future that had died the instant the Arilou Portal Spawner malfunctioned and created a bridge between two galaxies, Londo Mollari would have described the planet Narn as “dry, red, and depressing.”

It was certainly an apt description. The hundred years of Centauri occupation had reduced the once lush forest world into a wasteland. But the state of the planet was not on G’Kar of the Kha’Ri’s mind as he strode through the capital city.

Followed by his personal assistant, Na’Toth, G’Kar entered the huge building that served as the headquarters for the Narn space fleet. He was greeted respectfully by security and ushered into the office of an Admiral Fa’Tan.

“Ah, G’Kar, an honor and a pleasure as always,” Fa’Tan said cheerfully, pumping G’Kar’s hand and completely ignoring Na’Toth. “I hadn’t realized that you’d returned from your post as diplomat to Earth yet.”

“The Minbari armada draws very close to the human home world now,” G’Kar said. “Their time as a major player in galactic affairs—or indeed, as any player in any affairs at all—will soon be over. We don’t need an ambassador on Earth anymore, and I obviously didn’t want to be there when the Minbari arrive.”

“I should think not,” Fa’Tan chortled. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“I believe that you have a report on the current and projected status of our fleet for the Kha’Ri,” G’Kar said.

“Indeed, I do,” Fa’Tan said.

The admiral pressed a button on his desk and the large screen on the far wall changed from displaying a picture of the Narn system to showing several charts and lists of figures. “As you can see,” Fa’Tan said, gesturing to one of the charts, “the steady growth of our G’Quan fleet continues unabated, thanks mostly to the funding you were able to procure for us from your arms deals with Earth.”

“Hopefully the humans will get the chance to use those weapons, and it will cause the Minbari to attack the Centauri,” G’Kar said.

Admiral Fa’Tan nodded. “Even if we are not so fortunate, we estimate that within two decades at most, we will have the strength to sufficiently pay back the Centauri for the hundred years of oppression.”

The admiral handed G’Kar a data crystal. “All the details on that.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” G’Kar said. “I wish I could stay and chat, but I’m afraid I have other business to attend to.” He turned to leave.

“If I could bother you for one more moment,” Fa’Tan said, causing G’Kar to stop and turn back. “I’ve heard rumors of a new power arriving in the galaxy. A New Alliance of Free Stars, I believe. The military needs to be kept informed of such things.”

G’Kar laughed. “Not of this thing, my friend. The New Alliance of Free Stars is a pathetic ruse by the Earth Alliance to try and garner more help from us. They put some of their diplomats in unfamiliar uniforms and sent them here with a fantastic tale of traveling through parallel universes and fighting giant, tyrannical insects. Just the desperate actions of a desperate people.”

“Good,” Fa’Tan said. “I was afraid this New Alliance of Free Stars might complicate things.”

“The New Alliance of Free Stars will change nothing, that I can assure you,” G’Kar said.

He left, followed again by Na’Toth. He was feeling quite pleased with both himself and the status of the Narn fleet. He could sense that Na’Toth, however, was disturbed about something, though he couldn’t guess why. After several minutes, G’Kar finally relented and asked, “All right, Na’Toth, just what is bothering you?”

“I was just wondering if the money from the Earth Alliance couldn’t have been better spent,” Na’Toth admitted guiltily. “The military is always well funded, and the groups working to restore our forests are always short on money.”

G’Kar shook his head, disgusted with his aide’s lack of foresight. “What would be the point of restoring the forests, if the ones who razed them to begin with could conquer us again and again destroy them?”

“But how do you know the Centauri wish to come back?” Na’Toth asked.

“The Centauri,” G’Kar said the word with visible distaste, “are nothing but violent warmongers. If we make our world something they want again, they will come and try to take it if they think they can.”

Imperial Palace, Centauri Prime

The throne room was usually bustling with the various members of the Royal Court, but at the moment it was empty save for Emperor Turhan and Prime Minister Malachi. Turhan didn’t want the various hangers-on that came with the throne to hear such important and probably unpopular discussion.

“In truth, Highness,” Malachi said, “I really don’t see why you place so much importance upon this issue. The Centauri Republic is despised by many.”

“But none of the others who dislike us have such fresh wounds to sustain their animosity,” Turhan said. “The Narn are a rising power in the galaxy, and they will be in a good position to claim several of the Earth Alliance’s planets after the Minbari are done. It is both politically and morally right that we do all we can to soothe the enmity between us.”

Malachi nodded. “You are wise, Majesty. How do propose that we improve relations?”

“That I’m not sure of,” Turhan said. “We must remain vigilant for any opportunity at atoning for what we’ve done to the Narn.”

Geneva, Earth

“We’ve been here for months now,” Amy said. “Don’t you ever get tired of looking at that?”

“Nope,” Katulas replied, not taking his eyes off of the night sky.

“Well, I suppose it’s understandable,” she said. “It’s not like you get to see the stars very much, being the helmsman of a starship and all.”

Katulas smirked. “You grew up on Unzervalt. You don’t understand.” He still didn’t take his gaze away from the sky.

She walked next to him and turned her own eyes skyward. “So why don’t you explain it to me?”

He was silent for a long time, and Amy began to suspect that he couldn’t put what he felt into words. Just when she was about to tell him that it was all right if he couldn’t explain, he began to speak.

“Growing up on enslaved Earth, it was completely impossible to forget that you were a slave, ever,” Katulas said. “The slave shield was always there, that sick, pulsing red glow always reminding you what you were. It was the symbol of our enslavement, and when I was offered a place on the station I took it just so I could see the stars again and feel like I was a free man. But it didn’t work, for whatever reason, I couldn’t fool myself for even the shortest moment. Maybe it’s because the stars don’t twinkle when you look at them from space. But here…here it’s so easy to pretend that the war’s won, and Earth’s liberated. I know it’s not true, but it’s such a wonderful feeling. One I’ve craved my entire life, I think.”

“Wow,” Amy said softly.

“Yeah,” he agreed. Then he grinned, and suddenly he was his usual, impish self again. “So, enjoying the negotiations?”

She stuck her tongue out. “I like trying to figure out what the Mycon and the Orz are talking about more,” she replied. “God, but diplomacy’s complicated in this galaxy.”

He patted her comfortingly on the back. “Well, you just keep at it, slugger. Like Hayes said, we need all the allies we can get. So does this Earth, for that matter.”

Amy sighed. “That’s the problem. Nobody wants to touch this Earth with a ten light year pole, so I can’t get anywhere. Most of the aliens here just think that we’re some lame trick by EarthGov, and nobody believes anything we say about the Ur-Quan.”

“Why not send out some of our aliens?” Katulas asked. “People won’t think that they’re just an EarthGov trick.”

“Who should we send? The Orz? ‘Will you be *campers* with us?’” she asked, imitating the bubbly voice of the water dwelling creatures. “Or maybe Fwiffo? ‘Attention, big, mean, scary alien…?’ And of course, the Yehat and the Shofixti don’t want the job.”

“Yeesh, all right, I’m sorry,” Katulas said.

She sighed, “No, I’m sorry. I’m just so frustrated with going to all these negotiations and not getting anywhere,” she paused. “Could be worse. I could be the captain, or Monty.”

“What do they have to deal with?” Katulas asked.

“Monty’s been working with EarthForce, trying to integrate some of our technology with theirs,” Amy answered. “It’s a damned difficult task, from what I understand. And these people are so desperate, they want more than the captain’s willing to give them. They’re constantly trying to pressure him into letting their R&D department take apart one of the Terminators so they can try and figure out the energy shields.”

“Talk about ungrateful,” Katulas said, disgusted.

“I can’t blame them,” Amy said. “The Minbari are getting closer every week.”

Katulas nodded. “So, what’re we going to when they get here?”

Amy shrugged. “Hell if I know. We might have to try and make a run for the portal back to our galaxy. I’m not looking forward to that. EarthForce sent a couple of scout ships to the portal. Neither of them came back.”

“Wait a minute,” Katulas said. “Make a run back for the portal? And leave these people to burn?”

“S’not our war,” Amy said. “I don’t want to die for it.”

“But…but this is Earth,” Katulas protested. “Not our Earth, sure, but it is an Earth, with humans on it. We should fight for it.”

“We fight for this Earth, we’ll die and we’ll doom our own Earth, not to mention the rest of the New Alliance of Free Stars,” Amy retorted. “Besides, at least these people did something to earn what happened to them.”

“One guy did something,” Katulas said, growing angry. “Did we all earn the eternal hatred of the VUX when Jeffery Rand called them ugly?”

“Captain Rand didn’t shoot at anybody!” Amy said.

“You completely missed my point,” Katulas replied.

“And you completely miss the point that dying here would serve no purpose,” Amy said. “You just want to be able to looked up at the damned stars.”

“Freedom is worth dying for,” he replied.

“But the illusion of it isn’t,” she said. “I’m going to bed. Enjoy your star gazing. Good night.”

EarthDome

In the opening days of the war, the Strategic Planning Room had bustled with information as the leaders of the Earth Alliance had planned for battle with a foe they barely knew. The room had been occupied for twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for over a year, as news of one defeat after another came in.

Lately, the constant bustle of the SPR had rapidly begun to dwindle as humanity’s demise began to look more and more inevitable and people went off to see their families. At the current moment, only two people occupied the room.

“How’s the situation look?” President April asked. “Will the help we’ve gotten from Captain Zelnick save us?”

“No,” General Lefcourt said, not tearing his gaze away from the transparent map of space before him. “We don’t have enough time to make use of it. We just managed to get the stabilized antimatter plant online, and we don’t even have any ship designs that can take advantage of it yet. Right now all it’s good for is giving the Vindicator the refueling we promised Zelnick. If the Minbari decided to stop and wait for ten or twenty years, we might be able to turn them back, but we know that won’t happen.”

“So there’s no hope? Not even if Zelnick turned his entire fleet over to us?” April pressed.

“No,” Lefcourt said, turning to look at her shrewdly. “And don’t bother entertaining ideas of seizing those ships. With the exception of their Cruisers, you need an alien at the helm to make it work. Except for the Vindicator, which only Zelnick can captain for some reason.”

“I guess I’d better see about the emergency colony vessels, then,” April said, clearly desiring for the general to contradict her.

He did not.

Falayalaralfali

The Arilou were possibly the happiest race that the Arilou knew about, and the Arilou knew of a lot of races. Of course, this wasn’t terribly surprising. The Arilou had a lot to be happy about, especially compared to their neighbors.

The poor beings who were forced to live in normal space suffered with virtually every little twist of fate, for they did not understand the workings of the flow of destiny. The Ur-Quan had ripped through the galaxy for eons, ever since the end of the Sentient Milieu, and many, many races had been killed or enslaved. Some had not, but if the current course of destiny was followed to its ultimate conclusion, they soon would be.

The Arilou had no need to worry about any such things. Their world was safely hidden in QuasiSpace, contained within a TrueSpace eddy. Even if the Ur-Quan should find the naturally occurring portal into the realm *above* hyperspace, they would never make it to Falayalaralfali. For there were things that lived in QuasiSpace that would incite terror in even the Ur-Quan. The Arilou had worked hard to make themselves immune to these predators and parasites. These creatures of nightmares slept most of the time, most of them being lazy things by nature. But should the Ur-Quan attempt to assault their home, the Arilou could rouse these terrors to drive off the invaders without fear of having to face the monsters themselves.

So the Arilou enjoyed a pleasant existence, confident in their safety and having a great many things to keep themselves occupied. Capturing *Nnngn* in the easy places, or indulging in the natural wonders of their home world like the Tangible Wish and the Mountain Clouds of Thought were favorite activities of theirs.

But like every other sentient race they’d ever encountered, the Arilou had an agenda. And one of the most important elements needed for the achievement of their agenda had apparently vanished. This caused the normally cheerful Arilou to become unusually concerned and distressed. They had been working toward the fulfillment of their agenda for a very long time, even for beings that didn’t quite stick to the rules of linear time anymore.

“One of our favorite children has disappeared,” Recon Chief Wewalia announced telepathically to a room full of assembled Skiff captains. “The human Zelnick has vanished from our sight.”

This came as no surprise to the captains; the Arilou were too telepathic for anything to remain secret among them for very long. Still, the reminder sent a wave of unease through them. The Arilou had secretly nurtured and enhanced Zelnick’s natural ability to reroute the river of fate since before he was born. If he did not fulfill his destiny, the Arilou’s plans would be in very great danger of complete failure indeed.

“Have the Ur-Quan destroyed him?” Captain Patooi asked.

“No. We would have known if this had happened,” Wewalia answered. “He has simply disappeared, not died. The only way he could have done this was if he somehow made it to a different *time*. That is why I have called you here. You must go to all the other *times* that we know of, find Zelnick, and do what you can to get the *plan* back on track.”

The captains acknowledged their orders, and soon over a dozen Skiff-class saucer vessels departed from the true space eddy, into QuasiSpace, and then into pathways through realities that only the Arilou knew.

Sa-Matra

Merely having the holographic image of Genocide inside the sacred Sa-Matra, the symbol of Ur-Quan dominance, was enough to bring Master One to the edge of uncontrollable rage. The Kohr-Ah had not won the Doctrinal Conflict, had not won possession of the Sa-Matra, but ever since the two Ur-Quan subspecies had come to a truce, it had seemed like he was dealing with Genocide more often than his fellow members of the Thirteen.

“Are your forces ready yet?” Genocide demanded. “It’s been months since we agreed to this joint invasion.”

“Perhaps if you’d been quicker to issue the ceasefire order to your servants, my ship lords would’ve been prepared sooner,” Master One snapped.

“You have not answered my question,” Genocide pressed.

“We will be ready soon,” Master One said. “I have been reviewing the potential targets. This League of Non-Aligned Worlds—”

“The Minbari will be our first target,” Genocide said flatly.

“Why?” Master One asked, surprised. “The Minbari possess no particularly powerful telepaths.”

“The Minbari dared to attack one of my Marauders,” Genocide stated.

“Do not take me for a fool!” Master One shouted. “You and the Kohr-Ah are not so sensitive that you need to avenge a failed attack. Your Marauders give others little choice but to fight them anyway. Tell me the real reason you wish to fight the Minbari.”

Genocide looked amused. The Kohr-Ah had the larger fleet and thus dominated the alliance, for the moment anyway. He didn't have to worry about Master One's motives or desires and could withhold the truth. It was another thing that made Master One seethe.

“I wish to strike the Minbari first," Genocide said. "That is all you need know. We will kill them all. Then perhaps we can strike at this League of Non-Aligned Worlds you seem so interested in."

“To strike the strongest foes first and to kill all is not the way of the Kzer-Za,” Master One said.

“This invasion is not merely going to be done by the Kzer-Za,” Genocide replied curtly.

“Fine, we will do this your way, for now,” Master One said.

He cut the transmission, and Genocide’s guise vanished like so much smoke. Moments later, twelve new holograms appeared: the rest of the Thirteen.

“I have spoken with Lord Genocide,” Master One began without preamble, as usual. “We have decided that we will strike at the Minbari first. No mercy will be shown. We will kill all that we find.”

The other Masters exchanged confused looks. “Killing all is not the Path of Now and Forever,” Master Three said.

“The Path of Now and Forever has always left room for the destruction of races that have committed certain atrocities or those that are too dangerous to be allowed to live,” Master One said. “The Minbari earned annihilation when they dared to use a telepathic attack against an Ur-Quan.”

It was a poor excuse and all of the Thirteen Masters knew it. Both the Syreen and the Arilou had utilized their telepathic powers in combat during the war. The Syreen Song, which allowed the Syreen to recruit crew from Hierarchy colonies and ships, had been a constant thorn in their side during the war. Yet none of the Masters had ever even suggested exterminating either race once the war was won.

But one did not become an Ur-Quan Master by being foolish. They could read between the lines and knew that Genocide was forcing Master One down this path. They did not object; all it could achieve was to embarrass their leader.

The meeting lasted for only a few minutes longer, as the Masters reported the readiness or lack thereof of their ship lords. After that, Master One dismissed them, cutting the channels and causing their holographic images to vanish from the Central Nest as Genocide’s had earlier.

The exception was Master Three. He seemed surprised that Master One apparently wanted a private word with him, but looked levelly at his leader.

“I have decided that you will be one of the Masters to lead this invasion,” Master One said.

Master Three blinked his many eyes in surprise. Why was Master One sending he, who was staunchly against the invasion and the way it was being done, to lead this fight?

“I thought that Masters Nine and Two would be handling the invasion,” Master Three said.

“They will, along with you,” Master One said.

Given an order from his leader, Master Three had little choice but to comply. “As you command,” he said.

Geneva, Earth

The Rusty Rocket had been a favorite officer’s club of EarthForce since 2090, back when EarthForce had actually still be using rockets to get into space. It was here that the military men of the Earth Alliance had come for well over a century to rub elbows with their comrades and enjoy a drink while they were off duty.

And it was also the only place where the Starkiller and the oddity named Zelnick could come for some relative peace during their down time. The two men sat in a booth and both ordered a drink. Zelnick’s was non-alcoholic; he still had a couple of months to go before his twenty-first birthday.

“John, I am really sorry that you got pulled off your ship because of me,” Zelnick said. “If there’s anything—”

Sheridan held up, quieting Zelnick. “Look, Zee, it’s not your fault EarthForce took me off the Lexington,” he said. “The brass has just been waiting for an excuse to get me as far away from the shooting as possible. Besides, serving as your liaison is better than constantly withdrawing anyway. At least this way I get to see Anna.”

“Ah yes, your lovely wife,” Zelnick said, recalling his brief meeting with Mrs. Sheridan. “You’re a lucky man, John.”

A smile briefly graced Sheridan’s face, but it soon withered and vanished. “As lucky as any human can be,” he said. “Us with the Minbari are your people with the Ur-Quan. Somebody up there must really hate humanity.”

Their drinks came, and the two men were silent for a time as they sipped without much enthusiasm. “God, I hate this,” Zelnick said abruptly. “I should be back home fighting the Ur-Quan, not sitting here, doing nothing.”

Sheridan grinned despite himself. “Trust me, I know the feeling.”

“Yeah, I guess you do,” Zelnick said.

An uncomfortable silence fell. Wanting to break it, Sheridan took a gulp of his drink and said, “Tell me something, Zee. Why are you supposed to be the only one who can captain the Vindicator?”

“EarthGov want to know why?” Zelnick smirked.

“Probably,” Sheridan said, “but I’m just curious.”

Zelnick nodded. He only half believed that, but he couldn't see the harm in telling Sheridan. “Well, the big V is a ship of Precursor design. It works for me because I have some kind of innate knack for Precursor tech. The stuff just seems to make sense to me in a way that it doesn’t to anyone else. Sometimes my being nearby is enough to get it to start working, believe it or not.” He smiled wistfully. “I remember back when I was a kid on Unzervalt. Monty and the other engineers were always after me to come down to the Precursor factory to help them figure it out. I’d rather go play with the other kids.”

“Heh, I bet,” Sheridan chuckled. “ ‘I wanna go play ball with Billy!’ ‘No, lad, we need you to work in the factory.’”

Zelnick smirked. “It all seemed worth it, though, when they built the Vindicator and told me I was her skipper. I was so excited I nearly started jumping up and down,” he paused. “I never expected for even a second that I’d get to Earth and find out that the Alliance had lost the Great War. That the Great War was still ongoing, yes, I was prepared for that. But that humanity had been defeated? No, it seemed inconceivable. Foolish of me, really.”

“After we won the Dilgar War, we didn’t think there was anything out there we had to worry about,” Sheridan said. “That was foolish of us.”

“Mm, well, no point in kicking ourselves over past mistakes,” Zelnick said, then raised his glass. “Here’s to the day when we can back to work, helping making things the way they should be.”

“Here, here,” Sheridan said, clinking glasses with Zelnick.

Little did either of them know that they’d both be planet bound until it came time for Earth to draw a line in the sand against the advancing Minbari horde.

Was planning a story on similar lines, but never had the time to get it done. Anyhow this is good, keep it going.

Sorry I miss the last chapter so please continue. Continue writing is seem to improve like wine over the ages

Serpentis Constellation, Yehat Space
Yehat Terminator Razor Talon

“Captain, we’re detectin’ an unidentified ship within our borders. Speed is consistent with the alien vessel under human command that the Swift Wing reported encountering several months ago.”

Donna tell me the human is that foolish! Captain Cheep-Guava thought, feeling dread well up within him. Meeting the human meant having to choose between disobeying his Queen’s commands and attacking a former ally and friend. It was not a choice he looked forward to, but to ignore the vessel and allow an intruder to romp freely through the empire was unthinkable.

“Change course to intercept,” he ordered.

“Aye, Cap’n,” his helmsman replied. “Intruder is not attempting to avoid us and is changing their own course to rendezvous with us.”

The two taskforces soon met in hyperspace, and the viewer of the Razor Talon displayed exactly what Cheep-Guava had feared it would: the squashed, beakless face of a human.

“Human, what are you doing back here!? Are you totally off yer perch!? We have sympathies fer yer cause, ‘tis true, but we must obey the orders of our Queen, however much we may disagree with them!” Cheep-Guava exclaimed, dismayed.

The human tugged on his red uniform shirt nervously and said, “This may come as a shock, but the Shofixti are alive.”

Pah, impossible! Cheep-Guava thought, but he felt a tiny spark of hope nevertheless.

“If this is being a true thing, there will be many changes. But we are a species long wise in the ways of deceit. Ye must be proving these words ye say, Captain. Send the Shofixti to us as a way of proof,” Cheep-Guava replied.

Cheep-Guava fully expected the human to refuse, to see this foolish trick fall apart. So he was very surprised when the human replied, “All right, I'll send over the Shofixti... but don't mess with him, okay?”

The implication that the human suspected he might harm a Shofixti made Cheep-Guava want to peck the mammal’s eyes out, but he withheld any outburst. It was understandable. The Yehat had fallen far since the Great War, and the human’s previous visit had made him aware of it, at least partially.

“We are scanning the separation of a vessel from yer fleet, Captain and indeed, its configuration matches that of a Shofixti Scout vessel. This had better not be a trick, Captain! We are knowing the power of a Glory Device, and if you detonate the weapon near us the price for you shall be dear, very dear.” Cheep-Guava glanced at his tactical officer, who nodded, ready to raise the shields at a moment’s notice.

“The Scout has docked, and we await the pilot's appearance at the airlock. The atmosphere cycle is complete... the door slides open... and…” the suspense was torture by now. Cheep-Guava wanted so much for a Shofixti to be standing in the airlock, he wanted that more than anything. Yet he was all too aware of the enormous repercussions that would have.

The door finished opening.

“IT IS TRUE!!! THE SHOFIXTI ARE ALIVE!!!” Cheep-Guava squawked. “Look at that furred muzzle, those shining black eyes, the sweet claws! Our children have returned from oblivion!!”

All thoughts of what this would do to the empire momentarily forgotten, Cheep-Guava rushed forward to wrap his wings around the dear Shofixti and embrace him.

The Shofixti flinched and took a step back. Cheep-Guava stopped, horrified that a Shofixti would feel the need to fear a Yehat. He reminded himself that this would have to be a young Shofixti, somehow sired well after the Great War. He couldn’t know that he had no reason to fear the Yehat.

Then it struck him like a meteor. The Yehat were Ur-Quan battle thralls now. And the Shofixti—the brave, noble Shofixti who had never wavered from the path of honor, even when it had required their self-annihilation—they had undoubtedly thrown their lot back in with the Alliance.

The Yehat and the Shofixti were enemies. As if their children returning to witness their dishonor wasn’t enough, the Queen’s machinations had placed them on opposite sides of a reborn Great War! Cheep-Guava hadn’t felt so horrified since the Queen had ordered them to abandon the Shofixti to the Ur-Quan.

“But now we are faced with the cruelest truth!...We who have sacrificed our honor! We who have lain with the enemy! WE ARE NOT WORTHY! WE ARE NOTHING!...We are less than nothing.” Cheep-Guava lamented.

Years of resentment toward the High Perch suddenly came to a head. Their shame had barely been bearable before. Now, with the Shofixti returned to see it…it was simply intolerable! Their honor must be regained, no matter the cost!

“But wait! We are not Spathi. We are Yehat... OF THE STARSHIP CLANS! We will NOT live this lie any longer! Listen as I speak these words! If our Queen makes the dishonorable command,” he paused, aware that he was about to go against every thing he’d been taught since he’d been a hatchling. But his rage demanded satisfaction, “then it is THE QUEEN WHO HAS NO HONOR! And a dishonorable Queen is NO QUEEN AT ALL! We, the Zeep-Zeep, are the only Clan who remember the TRUE MEANING of honor we shall TEAR THE QUEEN FROM HER THRONE! The two-thousand year reign of the Veep-Neep Queens IS OVER! THE REVOLUTION HAS BEGUN!”

Cheep-Guava suddenly jerked awake, pulling his head out from under his wing. He had dreamed of that fateful moment almost every time he slept. He wasn’t about to complain, though. The memory always filled him with fresh resolve to see this war to the end, despite being all too aware of the fact that he was potentially opening the door to the past and its bloody Wars of Ascension.

He strode to the bridge of his modified command Terminator and squawked, “Report!”

“It’s been quiet today, Cap’n,” his tactical officer replied. “The Royalist scum have nae tried any attacks.”

Cheep-Guava nodded and lumbered over to the strategic map. Many of the worlds within the traditional Yehat sphere of influence were the bright pink color signifying them as rebel holdings. Only the planet that held the Clan home of the Feep-Eeep Clan and those within the energized nebula that made Yehat space so unique remained in Royalist hands. The rebels had already forced all the minor Clans that had sided with the Veep-Neep harpy to surrender.

Unfortunately, Gamma Serpentis was one of those systems inside the nebula. And the High Perch of Caer Zeep-Reep was on Gamma Serpentis I. Without it, the rebels could not realistically claim victory. But the nebula made for a mighty natural defense, even against those who knew it well. Thus far, the rebels hadn’t quite been able to muster a force potent enough to invade the systems within and finish the revolution. And the royalists couldn’t do much besides send out the occasional raiding party; they were effectively trapped. Hence, the revolution had fallen into an unpleasant stalemate. As leader of the revolutionaries, it was Cheep-Guava’s duty to figure out how to break it.

“Captain!” the sensor officer’s call interrupted his ponderings. “I’m detectin’ a battle in the Capella system!”

“What?!” Cheep-Guava exclaimed. “We don have any forces there, do we?”

“Nay, Captain. It’s not our forces that are in battle. What appears to be a small squadron of royalist Terminators are engaging an entire fleet of vessels. I’m sorry, Captain, but I canna identify them from this distance. Our Deep Radar just doesn’t have the range.”

“An entire fleet, you say?” Cheep-Guava asked, incredulous.

“Aye, sir. Well over a hundred vessels,” the sensor officer answered.

“Why haven’t they destroyed the royalist scum then?” Cheep-Guava asked.

He knew that the Terminator was one of the toughest, deadliest warships in known space, of course. But against over a hundred vessels, a small squadron should’ve been blown away fairly quickly.

“Because, Captain, whoever the royalists are attacking are nae shooting back,” the sensor officer said, clearly amazed by this fact.

“Then I guess the question is: are they unarmed or daft?” Cheep-Guava said. “Ack, never mind. Set course for the Capella system. Let’s roast the royalists and see who our uninvited guests are.”

Fortunately, Cheep-Guava’s fleet happened to be nearby Capella, and the journey didn’t take long. The rebels arrived in the system a few short hours later, well before the royalists could destroy the entire mystery fleet.

“Sir,” the sensor officer chirped moments after they entered the system, “the royalists have spotted us and are fleeing into hyperspace.”

“Let them go,” Cheep-Guava said absently.

He was staring at the viewer, looking at the multitude of colorful ships that occupied the system. Their design made him think of the flying insects back on the home world that the Yehat loved to feast upon.

“Are those ships what I think they are?” Cheep-Guava asked.

“Aye, Captain,” the sensor officer said darkly. “Pkunk.”

“I’ve got them in my cross-hairs, Cap’n,” the tactical officer said. “Shall I fire?”

“Nay, not just yet, anyway,” Cheep-Guava said thoughtfully, recalling something he’d once heard Zelnick had mentioned. “Hail them.”

The view screen soon displayed the image of Pkunk, a race which had clearly grown very dissimilar from the Yehat over the centuries indeed by the looks of it.

“Greetings, brethren!” the Pkunk said cheerfully. “My name is Braky Girdy, and we are the Pkunk. We have come so that our two species may reunite and heal the wound that has kept us apart for so long. Those other Yehat seemed unwilling to allow the healing to begin, but I can clearly sense that you are more caring, understanding souls than they.”

“I’ve got half a mind to finish what they started,” Cheep-Guava said.

Braky Girdy’s eyes rolled about crazily for a moment. “Oh, well in that case—”

“But,” Cheep-Guava interrupted, “the other half of my mind is havin’ some crazy thoughts indeed. Tell me, Braky Girdy, has your kind encountered a human named Zelnick?”

“Indeed we have,” Braky Girdy replied. “He came to us a couple of years ago seeking spiritual enlightenment and aid in his fight against the Ur-Quan. We provided him wih the mysterious Clear Spindle device, which we sensed he would need, some of our Fury-class star ships, and, most importantly, our love!”

Ack, that voice is unbearable, Cheep-Guava thought but he kept his face pleasant.

“Then it seems like we have a common ally, Pkunk,” Cheep-Guava said. “Tell me something: are ye able to fight?”

Braky Girdy’s eyes rolled about again. “The fight, always the fight,” she sighed. “Yes, we can kick some serious tail feather when we need to, but we are a peaceful people at heart.”

“Then why did ye just let the royalists fire upon yer ships?” Cheep-Guava asked.

“We want to return home to our Yehat brethren, not start a war with them!” Braky Girdy exclaimed.

“I see,” Cheep-Guava said, stroking his beak thoughtfully. “In case ye haven’t noticed, Braky, we Yehat are in the middle of civil war right now. I lead the honorable rebels against the false royals and their sycophantic followers. If ye will help us to take the High Perch and finish this fight, I will see to it that yer allowed to return home.”

Braky Girdy looked delighted. Cheep-Guava just knew that the leader of the Veep-Kreep Clan would be flapping mad over this.

Geneva, Earth

The day had arrived. Everyone had known that it was coming but on some level none of them had truly expected it.

The Minbari were approaching Sol. By the end of the day, the war would be over, one way or another.

Panic was starting to consume the populous. Riots had begun in some places, though local authorities were doing a surprisingly good job at putting them down. Even in the most tranquil parts of the world, the tension was palpable.

Yet in Geneva two men walked down the street looking purposeful but as calm as if it were any other day. One wore the dark blue uniform of a member of the EarthForce Navy. The other wore the bright red uniform of Star Control.

“I wish you could stay and fight with us,” Sheridan said, “and not just because your fleet’s pretty damned powerful.”

“I wish we could, too, but this isn’t our battle. The non-humans in my fleet won’t fight this fight, and I can’t really blame them,” Zelnick said. “I hear they’re letting you back into the action.”

Sheridan nodded. “I’m boarding the Lexington soon. Hopefully the Minbari will do something stupid to get at me.”

“Well, it sounds like you’re going to have your hands full,” Zelnick said. “I hope you don’t mind if I ask you to try and keep an eye on the Tobermoon.”

Sheridan frowned. “The Tobermoon? Wait a second, that’s one of your ships!”

Zelnick nodded seriously. “Yeah, it is. A number of the humans in my fleet said they want to stay and fight, enough to crew one of the Cruisers. Against my better judgement, I decided to grant their request,” he gave Sheridan a small grin. “So you should be okay, now, John. The Tobermoon is the ship that will not die; it’s incredibly lucky. Nothing can kill it.”

Sheridan laughed grimly. “Bet the Minbari will see it, turn around, and flee.”

“If they’re smart they will,” Zelnick said.

The two men reached the space port, from which they would depart for their ships. “Well, Zee, it was good knowing you,” Sheridan said.

“Same to you, John,” Zelnick replied. “Same to you.”

The two men shook hands and then went their separate ways, expecting to never see each other again.

Tobermoon, Hours Later

“Commanding Officer’s log. I, Lieutenant Commander Paul Katulas, have taken command of the Tobermoon and await the arrival of the Minbari armada along with the remnants of EarthForce. Captain Zelnick and the rest of the Alliance fleet are waiting on the edge of the system, watching and keeping out of the fight.

“It’s funny, the Tobermoon was the only Earthling Cruiser from the Great War that avoided either being destroyed in the final, failed defense of our Earth or getting scrapped by the Ur-Quan afterwards. And now I’m taking it into a different last stand, the odds of which are about as good as the one that took place almost twenty years ago back home.

“Whoever’s listening to this log: you probably think I’m crazy for getting into this fight. Maybe you’re right, but I don’t think so. A good friend of mine and I had an argument over this recently. I said that freedom was worth dying for. She said that the illusion of it isn’t. She was right, but there’s more to why myself and the others with me are doing this.

“Sometimes it’s worth dying to make a point. And the point we’re going to make is this: humanity, no matter which reality, will never ever go quietly into the night. If you want to kill us, you’ll need to be ready for us to make you bleed for every human life you take, for every inch you conquer. If all that’s to be left of us in the future is a page in a history book, that book will say that we fought valiantly until the very end. End log.”

Katulas took a deep breath, and strode from the tiny captain’s office onto the bridge, hoping he could act as bravely as he’d just sounded. He sat down in the command chair. It felt like a very strange place to be, and his hands itched for navigational controls.

“Report,” he ordered.

“The enemy’s ETA is roughly five minutes from now. We are at full red alert. All systems are nominal and missile tubes are armed with nukes.”

Katulas nodded silently, preparing himself for the excruciating five minutes before all hell broke loose.

“Sir, the Earth Alliance President is transmitting a wide beam message to the fleet,” the comm. officer reported.

“Let’s hear it then,” he ordered.

"We will not lie to you," the President said in broken tones. "We do not believe that survival is a possibility. We believe that everyone who joins this battle will never come home. But for every ten minutes we can delay the military advance, several hundred more civilians may have a chance to escape to neutral territory. Though Earth may fall, the human race must have a chance to continue elsewhere. No greater sacrifice has ever been asked of a people, but I ask you now, to step forward one last time, one last battle to hold the line against the night. May God go with you all."

Katulas watched on the view screen as jump points without number opened up, spewing forth the Minbari armada that intended to wipe out the human species.

Valen’tha

Delenn watched sorrowfully as the human fleet began to advance on the attacking Minbari warships. So noble. Where a lesser race would’ve scattered, the humans stood united in the defense of their world.

If only she hadn’t failed in her efforts to stop the war.

“Don’t worry, Delenn,” Coplann said. “It will all be over soon.”

She nodded silently, not taking her eyes off the hologram of the two great fleets as they approached one another.

“Excuse me, exultant Satai,” the disembodied voice of the ship’s captain suddenly filled the chamber. “I’m sorry for interrupting you, but we are receiving a priority distress signal from the Governor of Nocalo.”

“Put it through,” Delenn ordered before any of the others could reply.

The holographic picture of the two fleets was replaced by a grainy image of a panicked Worker Caste Minbari. “…repeat, we are being invaded by a vast armada of unknown ships. Thousands of ships. They are identifying themselves as the Ur-Quan Kohr-Ah and Kzer-Za. This can only be the first step of a major invasion. Send help! Please—”

The message abruptly cut off.

Delenn silently stared at Coplann, remembering his confident assertion that nothing would come from the incident with the Blue Star. Coplann simply glared back at her.

“We are the closest force to Nocalo,” Lamar, a worker caste Satai said. “We must go to help them.”

“Agreed,” Delenn said.

The Grey Council had a quick and unanimous vote on the matter, and they ordered the fleet to come about. Before the Minbari armada jumped away, however, Coplann took a moment to send the humans a final message.

EAS Lexington

“We’ll be back for you, humans,” came from the ship’s speakers, confirming what the crew hadn’t dared to believe when they’d seen the Minbari fleet turning.

“They’re leaving,” Sheridan whispered.

“But…why?” Thomas asked.

“They saw the Tobermoon?” Sheridan suggested, suddenly recalling his brief conversation with Zelnick.

Thomas, not in on the joke, was naturally confused. However, he simply replied, “Well, no matter why they did it, let’s hope we’re ready for them when they come back.”

Nocalo

The colony’s little defensive force of fighters had fallen in record time to the Kohr-Ah’s FRIED and the Kzer-Za’s own fighters, well before the Minbari armada could have hoped to arrive.

Immediately afterwards, the Kohr-Ah had begun to fire upon the colony with their usual genocidal abandon. The Kzer-Za did not interfere, but they did not participate, either. The Kohr-Ah didn’t demand their cousins’ assistance, satisfied to exterminate the Minbari present themselves.

With the might of the entire Kohr-Ah fleet crashing down upon it, the colony was destroyed within minutes, and the system was left devoid of any intelligent life besides the Ur-Quan. This was, so far as the Kohr-Ah were concerned, only right and proper.

But the Ur-Quan did not leave the system. They had been expecting some kind of Minbari counterattack and one of the Kzer-Za’s Dreadnaughts had remained in hyperspace to watch for incoming enemy vessels. When it detected the Minbari armada, it quickly returned to normal space to warn the others.

The Kohr-Ah used the time to saturate the space around them with as many mines as they could. The Kzer-Za, having no ability to lay such a trap, got into attack formation, and waited.

Valen’tha

Ignoring their fellow Satai for the moment, the three warriors of the Grey Council—Coplann, Narial, and Vernar—were doing their best to plan some sort of strategy for the coming battle.

“I can’t believe these Ur-Quan would have the gall to attack the Minbari Federation,” Vernar, youngest of the warriors, said.

“Enough, Vernar,” Narial said. “Wondering at it will not help us to expel them from our boarders.”

Coplann was silent, studying the holographic map of the Nocalo system with great intensity. He silently cursed the difficulty of seeing between normal space and hyperspace; even with the Minbari’s powerful sensors, they couldn’t get any specific data on the mysterious Ur-Quan. Their ships appeared only as featureless dots on the hologram.

Yet even that was enough to expose some important knowledge on the attackers, at least to one as skilled in the art of war as Coplann was. “They’re waiting for us,” he said.

“What?” Vernar asked.

“They’re in formation, two formations, actually” Coplann said. “They’re unfamiliar, but there’s no doubt. They’re expecting a fight.”

“Do you think they can detect us here in hyperspace, or are they just expecting retaliation for striking our colony?” Narial asked.

Coplann shook his head. “No way to tell. We don’t know enough about this enemy,” he said. “But that’s not important right now, the only relevant thing is that we know they know we’re coming.”

“We need to do something to surprise them, to turn the situation around,” Narial said.

“Exactly,” Coplann said. “We should come out right on top of them, use the jump points to get in a first strike.”

“With a fleet as big as this one?” Narial asked, incredulous, “Is that even possible?”

“Obviously we won’t be able to hit them all,” Coplann said. “But disorganizing them should be enough to tilt the odds in our favor. We can strike at the front of that formation,” he pointed to the hologram, “with the first wing of the fleet. The rest of our ships will emerge behind us.”

“Is it wise to be trying this with an enemy we know nothing about?” Vernar asked.

“Do you have a better idea?” Coplann asked.

“No,” Vernar admitted.

“Then I suggest we do it my way,” Coplann said.

Nocalo

The instant the Minbari emerged from hyperspace, chaos erupted across the blackness of space.

The jump points opened right on top of the Kohr-Ah formation as planned, tearing apart the ebony ships. Unfortunately, the rest of the fleet that entered real space right behind them emerged right in the midst of the Kohr-Ah’s minefield.

The result was that the front of the Kohr-Ah formation was destroyed, while the rear and center of the Minbari formation crashed into the mines, being destroyed or at least grievously damaged by the explosions.

The Minbari and Kohr-Ah were instantly thrown into complete disarray, confusion reigning as both fleets tried desperately to regroup. The Kzer-Za, in a separate formation from the Kohr-Ah, had been barely touched by the Minbari’s first strike. They pounced, spewing fusion blasts at the Minbari and sending their fighters to duel with the Minbari’s Nials.

The Minbari ships fought back fiercely but without coordination. However their stealth nearly made up for it. Nearly. The Kzer-Za could barely hit the Minbari, landing barely one shot in ten. But, even if the Kzer-Za hadn’t been present, the Minbari would still have had a great deal of problems. For as they scrambled to reestablish some kind of coherent formation, many of the Minbari warships were colliding with still more of the spinning Kohr-Ah mines.

The Kzer-Za had not been the scientists and the thinkers of the Dynarri Empire for nothing. They were experts at problem solving, and they soon detected that they could lock onto the quantum singularities that the Minbari used to power their ships. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was much better than previously. Accuracy jumped to about one shot in every three landing.

Just as they made this discovery, Kohr-Ah finally got themselves in order and pressed the attack. Space lit up with hundreds of brief, tiny suns as Minbari warships exploded under the withering attack.

Orange portals opened as the Minbari vessels that could flee did so, escaping into the relative safety of hyperspace. The Ur-Quan let them go. They had destroyed hulks to turn into raw materials for their war machine, and powerless but intact vessels to capture and study.

The first major clash between the Minbari and the Ur-Quan had ended after less than an hour of fighting. The Ur-Quan had lost dozens of ships, the Minbari had hundreds destroyed and thousands severely damaged.

Vreetan

Meanwhile, far away from the carnage of battle, the Vree were finding themselves with a completely different reason to get worked up.

On their home world was a huge, ring shaped artifact that they never allowed an insider to lay eyes upon. It stood on the very peak of a tall mountain, like some kind of huge and bizarre ornament. It vaguely resembled a jump gate, sans the pylons, but it was no simple jump gate. Their galaxy had only ever seen something similar to it once, an ill conceived venture made by the Vorlons long ago. But even that device was crude compared to the one the Vree secretly possessed, but lacked the knowledge to utilize.

And it was coming alive. After countless years of laying dormant, the great device was becoming active once more.

The Vree kept a constant watch on the device. The instant the lights on it began to flicker, the military was put on alert and Chancellor Quantum was notified.

After the several minutes it took for the startup cycle for the ancient machine to finish, there was an intense flare of green light. When it had dimmed, a blue, saucer shaped ship hovered nearby. Any outside would have mistaken it for a Vree vessel, but it was not.

Chancellor Quantum was frantically hailing the ship from his office the moment the Vree’s sensors picked it up. After a few seconds, the ship responded, the image of its captain appearing on the Chancellor’s wall view screen.

“Greetings, cousin, I am Captain Patooi.”

The Arilou was refusing to speak verbally, not a good sign, but Chancellor Quantum forged ahead anyway. “Welcome…cousin. It has been too long since you have been home.”

“Oh, indeed. I had forgotten how lovely Vreetan could be,” Patooi agreed cheerfully.

“So, Captain Patooi,” Quantum said nervously, “have you finally decided to take us with you?”

Quantum felt a strange tinkling sensation in his mind. It took him several seconds to realize that Patooi was telepathically laughing at him.

“No, no, no,” Patooi said, obviously very amused. “We have returned to see to other, completely separate matters.”

“Fine, traitors, continue to refuse to share your knowledge with us,” Quantum said bitterly, dropping his façade of friendliness. “We would be as First Ones now, if your kind hadn’t selfishly taken your secrets and abandoned us.”

Quantum’s accusations did nothing to dampen Patooi’s amusement. “Your desire for such power and status proves that you are unready for it. Clearly you do not yet *understand*.”

“Understand what?” Quantum demanded.

Patooi did not reply. He merely smiled elfishly at Quantum. It made Quantum furious, and the Chancellor was seriously tempted to order the military to attack the Arilou vessel. The only thing that stayed his hand was the continued desire that someday the Arilou would return and share their secrets with the Vree.

The Arilou captain was unsurprised by the impotent rage he sensed from Quantum. “Good day, Chancellor. I wish you and your people well.”

Quantum was sure that Patooi was mocking him, but there little he could do about it. The Arilou vessel was already on its way out of the atmosphere. It pushed into hyperspace and was gone.

Veep-Kreep Clan Home

“Please, me next!”

“No, me!”

“I’ve been waiting for over an hour now!”

“Patience, patience, please!” Braky Girdy called. “I have more than enough psychic energy for everyone. Ah, you, why don’t I read you next?”

A young Yehat crewman stepped forward, looking pleased. Braky Girdy threw a handful of twigs, small bones, and what looked like a few severely dazed insects at his feet. “Hmmm,” Braky stroked her beak thoughtfully, “ah, yes…”

“Well, what do they say?” the young crewman asked eagerly.

“They say that you will earn glory and fame in the coming tumultuous times,” Girdy replied. “You will rise to as high a rank as you desire. In a few years from now you will meet your ideal mate. You will be very happy together and have twelve chicks with her.”

The young crewman was given hearty congratulations by the other Yehat still waiting to have their fortune told. He bowed playfully to his clan-brothers and left so the others could have their turn.

Cheep-Guava and Veep-Zareep, the leader of the Veep-Kreep Clan, stood alone in a corner of the room. They went unnoticed by the young soldiers who were vying for Braky Girdy’s attention.

“That’s the third time I’ve heard her give that particular fortune,” Veep-Zareep said softly to Cheep-Guava.

Cheep-Guava chuckled quietly. “That’s because ye haven’t known her for as long as I have,” he said. “Their philosophy’s more formidable than their fortunate tellin’, though. Just speakin’ to Girdy has been enough to make me think of things I never even considered before.”

Veep-Zareep shook his head. “How in the world did ye ever think to absorb the Pkunk?”

Cheep-Guava shrugged. “ ‘Twas just a matter of bein’ pragmatic,” he answered. “I want to end this terrible civil war as soon as possible.”

“Have ye thought about what we’re goin’ to do when we succeed in pulling the Queen from the High Perch?” Veep-Zareep asked.

“Constantly,” Cheep-Guava sighed, “I just wish that all that thinkin’ had produced a good idea of what to do after the war’s over.”

“We need to come up with somethin’ soon,” Veep-Zareep said firmly. “If we don’t, it may be the end of the empire. After all, ye restarted the Wars of Ascension—”

“Nay, I’ve done no such thing!” Cheep-Guava interrupted. “The Wars of Ascension were fought because of the greed of the warlords. I declared the Zeep-Zeep Clan in rebellion to restore our honor. I’ve nae desire to sit on the High Perch myself.”

Veep-Zareep spread his wings in a placating gesture. “Whether or not the Wars of Ascension are truly renewed right now is irrelevant. Someone’s got to take the High Perch after we remove the Queen, and if either of us tries, then the Wars will begin again.”

“Aye, but if not one of us, then who?” Cheep-Guava asked. “It’s a devil of a problem.”

Suddenly the crowd around Braky Girdy erupted in cheers. The Pkunk had apparently delivered another very favorable fortunate to some young Yehat warrior. Veep-Zareep noticed a wild light appear in Cheep-Guava’s eyes. He decided he didn’t like it.

“Veep-Zareep, my friend, I’ve just had a crazy idea,” Cheep-Guava announced.

Geneva, Earth

In the weeks following the non-Battle of the Line, humanity reacted to their salvation in a number of ways, ranging from fairly normal to completely bizarre. The various churches, temples, mosques, and synagogues across the plant enjoyed attendance almost as high as just before the Minbari arrived, as worshippers thanked their deities for the save. In France, a whole new sub-philosophy of existentialism was created by a small group of well known scholars. In New York City, a huge, red-headed man regularly dressed up as a Viking and took to the streets, shouting at people to, “Praise Thor, the thunder god! For he hath taken his mighty hammer and smote the Minbari invaders!”

ISN gave this particular gentleman more air time than was strictly necessary.

Most people, however, simply relished the prospect of watching the Minbari and the Ur-Quan bleed each other white across the blackness of outer space. For the news of the Minbari’s huge defeat at Nocalo had spread across the galaxy faster than the speed of light.

And with that news came the realization that the New Alliance of Free Stars was not simply a trick of the Earth Alliance but a genuine, independent organization. Zelnick suddenly found his time in high demand as governments that had turned his envoys away without a second thought rushed to Earth to seek him out.

They all wanted to know everything he did about the Ur-Quan. What strategies and tactics did they usually use? Was their any way they might be reasoned with? What weaknesses did they have? How good was their technology?

Zelnick was fairly free with this information, selling it to the alien ambassadors for relatively modest sums. He probably could’ve gotten more for the information, but he didn’t want to risk that any of the alien ambassadors would refuse to pay and leave without knowledge of the Ur-Quan. He wanted everyone to know how great a threat they presented.

In any case, the payments added up to a considerable fortune, especially since the alien ambassadors paid Zelnick in their own currencies, and the Earth Alliance dollar was still weak because of the war.

Unfortunately, there really wasn’t anything that Zelnick needed very badly from Earth businesses, and he was getting tired of playing information broker. He was a man of action by nature, and sitting behind a bargaining table was making him restless.

“A pleasure doing business with you, Captain Zelnick,” the Lumati ambassador said, shaking Zelnick’s hand.

He took his data crystal of intelligence on the Ur-Quan and departed, leaving Zelnick with Command Yeager and Sheridan, who’d been recently reappointed to his position as Zelnick’s liaison.

Zelnick leaned back in his chair. “I am Trade Master Zelnick, of the Alliance starship Inevitably Successful in All Circumstances,” he muttered in a rather poor imitation of the Melnorme captain Greenish.

“Hilarious, sir. Now, the Tal-Kona’sha ambassador has requested a meeting with you as soon as possible. When would you like me to pencil him in?” Yeager asked with the complete seriousness that made him known as the stiff of the Vindicator.

Zelnick was spared from having to respond by a knock on the meeting room door. “Come in,” he called.

A man in a brown uniform entered, carrying a clipboard. “One of you guys named…” he checked the clipboard, “Augustus Zelnick?”

“That’s me,” Zelnick said.

“Delivery for you, Mr. Zelnick,” the man said, showing a large manila envelope. “Just sign here.”

“Okay,” Zelnick said, taking the clipboard and signing, “how’d you know I’d be here?”

“Instructions from the sender,” the courier replied. “Weird, I know, but they were right.”

Zelnick handed the clipboard back to the man and took the envelope. The courier left and Zelnick opened the envelope, removing a letter.

“That’s strange, nobody sends physical letters anymore,” Sheridan commented.

“I think the fact that the sender knew the captain would be here at this time is slightly more puzzling,” Yeager said.

Zelnick ignored them both and began to read, “ ‘Dear Captain Zelnick, we thought it might interest you to know that the last of the Androsynth are in this galaxy, at the system the Earth Alliance refers to as K0631. They are in a desperate situation and will soon die out if left alone. This is your species’ last chance to redeem itself for the sins caused by a used car salesman’s honeyed words. Signed, an old friend.’”

Zelnick and Yeager shared shocked looks.

“Captain, this reeks of a trap,” Yeager said. “Nobody here would know about the Androsynth besides us and the Ur-Quan.”

“Deception’s never been the Ur-Quan’s way,” Zelnick said. “And I don’t think they’d even realize that we’d go to save the Androsynth; they just don’t think that way, you know?”

“But if the Ur-Quan didn’t send this, then who did?” Yeager said.

“I have no idea,” Zelnick said, “but we can’t just ignore this. Not after what our ancestors did to the Androsynth. Get the fleet ready. I want to be en route to K0631 ASAP.”

Yeager nodded. “I can get us ready within the hour.”

He strode off, leaving Zelnick with Sheridan. The latter took the opportunity to ask, “Who are the Androsynth, Zee?”

Zelnick sighed. “Long story, but they’re a race our ancestors kept as slaves. They escaped and were forced into the Ur-Quan Hierarchy. If there’s even a chance that they’re actually here I feel like I have to pursue it. You and the Lexington can accompany us if you can get approval for the trip by the time we’re ready to go.”

Sheridan nodded. “I wouldn’t want to miss this.”

Valen’tha, Grey Council Chambers

Beneath their hoods, every member of the Grey Council looked tired and haggard as they stepped into their respective circles of light. The members of the Religious caste had been busy running around the Minbari Federation at a hectic pace, trying to rally the people to the war and keep morale up. The Worker caste Satai’s had likewise been moving about, but they had been overseeing shifting the Minbari economy to full war footing, something that had not been necessary while fighting the Earth Alliance. And the Warror caste Satai’s had of course been leading the efforts to turn back the Ur-Quan advance.

So far the war was going badly. The heavy losses they had taken at Nocalo had thrown a monkey wrench into the powerful Minbari war machine and the Ur-Quan had been pressing the advantage of surprise ever since, rampaging into Minbari territory and utterly destroying every colony they came upon.

Satai Coplann removed his hood. There were bags under his eyes, but those eyes blazed with determination even now. “The Ur-Quan have slowed their advance in the past few days,” he told his fellow Satai. “We believe they are running into logistical problems, and that we will finally have the time we need to organize an appropriate counterattack.”

“Is it not possible to talk with these Ur-Quan?” Delenn asked. “Perhaps apologize for the actions of Enzil? Remember, the Enemy comes and we cannot afford to lose so much blood and treasure in this fight.”

Satai Narial snorted in derision. “There is no proof that they are returning. And we have discovered much about the Ur-Quan since the first battle. They are not a race that one can negotiate with.”

Delenn frowned. “What have you found out about the Ur-Quan? And how did you obtain this information?”

Coplann answered for his fellow warrior, giving a brief run down about the Ur-Quan’s origins from another dimension and how Zelnick and his fleet had been trapped in their galaxy for some time now. “The human Zelnick has been selling information on the Ur-Quan to other races ever since they’ve appeared in this galaxy in number. The Narns bought that information from Zelnick and we bought a copy of it from the Narns.”

“And what is that information?” Delenn asked.

“The Ur-Quan are broken into two groups, one of which seeks to enslave all other intelligent life, and one which seeks to exterminate it,” Coplann answered. “I will have all the relevant data sent to you, but suffice to say that negotiations are not an option. We fight for freedom and survival.”

“We have also gained a wealth of information on the capabilities and tactics of the Ur-Quan,” Satai Vernar. “No blunder similar to what occurred at Nocalo will happen again.”

“It seems as if we must give the Warrior caste free rein to do what is necessary to defend the Minbari Federation,” Delenn said.

“As is right and proper,” Coplann replied, a touch of smugness in his voice.

No objections came from any of the others, and the lights illuminating the Grey Council winked out one by one until the room was completely dark.

After leaving the Council Chambers, Delenn headed straight for Dukat’s sanctum where the Vorlons waited. There was little the religious caste could do to contribute when the Minbari were at war, save for assuring the people that their fight was just and Valen would have fought as well.

But asking the Vorlons for help was something Delenn alone could do, now that she was the only one who knew of them. She walked into their chamber, unable as always to keep from finding the low lighting and the purple clouds of methane slightly spooky.

The two encounter-suited beings regarded her silently.

“We have ceased our war upon the humans,” Delenn said.

“We know,” Kosh replied.

“Then…then do you also know about why we stopped, just before reaching the planet Earth?” Delenn asked.

“Yes,” was Kosh’s curt reply.

Delenn decided to just push forward and state her request. “I have come to ask you for help. The Ur-Quan are killing us by the millions. Please, I know that many of us lost our faith over the centuries, but when the Great Enemy returns we will fight. But if the Ur-Quan destroy us before then, we will be unable to fight with you.”

The two Vorlons said nothing for a moment. Then Ulkesh, the other Vorlon, spoke. “Go,” he ordered. “If we decide to help, help will arrive.”

Delenn was disappointed by this non-answer, but she bowed respectfully and left. Once she was gone, Kosh turned to Ulkesh, “We must help them,” he said, “A wheel with broken spokes will not turn properly.”

“We must not risk waking the Others before it is time for the Circle to turn again,” Ulkesh said. “Time reveals all. Waiting will shine light upon the mysteries.”

Even if Vorlons were not so powerfully telepathic, Ulkesh would have known that Kosh was not pleased. Still, he did not argue further.

The Vorlons would stay out of the Minbari’s war with the Ur-Quan, at least for now.

Ur-Quan Dreadnaught SlaveMaster

“Master Three, there is a transmission for you for from Master One,” Lord 999 said. “You may take it in my office.”

Master Three thanked the ship lord, noting that apparently they were finally having some success at the inter-dimensional communications. He wondered what Master One wanted with him. For that matter, he wondered why Master One had assigned him to this attack force to begin with.

Master Three entered Lord 999’s small personal office and activated the view screen. “Master One, to what do I owe the honor?” Master Three asked.

“I have a task for you,” Master One said. “As you know, we are having difficulty getting enough supplies through the portal for the war effort. The Kohr-Ah are choosing not to acknowledge this problem, so we must be the ones to remedy it.”

“We require slaves in the galaxy,” Master Three said. It was not a question.

“Yes,” Master One said. “We have taken much knowledge of this galaxy from the Minbari, and I have decided upon a target to be the given the honor of becoming our first slaves of this dimension. I have ordered a third of our fleet to your command. You are to conquer them as swiftly as possible. And do your best to persuade them to become battle thralls rather than fallow slaves.”

Now Master Three understood why Master One had sent him on this campaign. Of all the Master, he was the most diplomatic with lesser races. He had been the one to broker the Yehat’s entry into the Hierarchy as battle thralls, a task the rest of the Thirteen had believed impossible. Master One must’ve foreseen that skill coming in handy at some point.

“I obey,” Master Three said. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you have reviewed the data and assembled your fleet,” Master One said. “I am transmitting all we know of your target now. They are relatively primitive, but there are weaker races in this galaxy. I have selected them as your target because they utterly lack any telepaths to use against us.”

Thought it was dead, didn't you? Well, I'm pleased to inform my adoring fans (all three of you ), that it lives yet. I hope you'll forgive the exposition at the beginning of this chapter; the details of the Androsynth's enslavement on Earth isn't covered in the game, and I felt it important enough to leave in.


Starship Vindicator
En route to K0631

“Okay, we’re on our way, now would you mind telling me who exactly these Androsynth are and why you’re in such a danged hurry to save them?” Captain Thomas’s disembodied voice asked from the speakers.

Zelnick sighed quietly. It was quite irksome to be unable to see who he was talking to, but it couldn’t be helped. The EarthForce ships had no means for visual communication, only audio.

“It’s a long story, and one we’re not proud of,” Zelnick said. “Still, I guess you deserve to know.”

He paused for a moment, wondering on how to begin. He’d never liked learning history as a child, but the tale of the Androsynth was something that had been frightening enough to catch his interest. Their empire had been a monument to both human ingenuity and human stupidity.

“In the aftermath of the Small War of 2015, the UN on our Earth was given supreme political power. One of its first acts was to lock away every nuclear missile in Peace Vaults and to ban research into weapons of mass destruction.

“Many scientific institutions, no longer allowed to research nuclear technology, turned to biotechnology,” Zelnick continued. “At one of these, a Swiss scientist named Hsien Ho created a race of ‘designer people.’ They had ‘perfect’ genes. They all had high potential for athleticism, high intelligence, balanced personalities…you get the idea. No capabilities that are impossible for a normal human, but no naturally born person could hope to hit the genetic jackpot like that and have such a combination of talents. They were also all male and sterile, to avoid flooding the gene pool with too much of almost exactly the same DNA.

“Then came Jason MacBride—a used car salesman, of all things,” Zelnick said. “He created this crazy cult and soon gained literally billions of followers. I guess people were more vulnerable to that sort of thing in the aftermath of the Small War. Anyway, he decided that artificially creating people was sacrilege of the worst kind. He called his followers ‘Homo Deus’ and Hsien Ho’s designer people ‘Android Synthetica.’ That’s where the name Androsynth comes from. MacBride used his influence to reduce the Androsynth to slaves.”

“My God,” Thomas said. “It’s unbelievable. What happened to the bastard?”

“Well, he was foolish enough to set an exact date for when what he called the Millennium—which was basically a repackaged version of the Rapture—was going to come,” Zelnick answered. “When it came and nothing happened, MacBride fell from grace very quickly. But a lot of people were making a lot of money off of Androsynth slaves. No efforts to free them ever got off the ground.”

“Let me guess: they eventually revolted,” Sheridan’s voice this time.

“Of course,” Zelnick said. “Personally I found it surprising that it took them so long. In 2085 they staged the Clone Revolt, seizing control of several space ports and then a number of orbital habitats. They’d discovered hyperspace and how to travel it and kept that knowledge to themselves. When they left the Sol System, there was nothing Star Control could do to pursue them.

“We later found out that they eventually settled in the Eta Vulpeculae system. The Ur-Quan conquered them at roughly the same time Earth joined the old Alliance of Free Stars. As you might expect, they were only too pleased to fight against us,” Zelnick said.

Zelnick finished by explaining how the Androsynth and Earth had been on opposite sides of the Great War, and the morbid and mysterious discovery his fleet had made on Eta Vulpeculae II. He omitted the fact that he had reason to suspect the Orz had a hand (or fin) in the Androsynth’s disappearance.

“But how could the Androsynth possibly be in this galaxy?” Thomas asked.

“The Androsynth were researching something called Interdimensional Fatigue just before they vanished,” Zelnick answered. “It’s not impossible that some of them traveled here with it.”

There was silence from the Lexington for a moment, then Sheridan said, “And you plan on recruiting the Androsynth into your Alliance?”

“I’m going to try,” Zelnick answered, “but I’d be happy if I could get them to stop hating humanity. Even though they did a lot of damage to us during the Great War, I always felt bad for them. To be enslaved once and then conquered again by someone else, and so soon? It must’ve been terrible.”

Quadrant 14, Narn Regime

Quadrant 14 served as a major military outpost for the Narn Regime, refueling and servicing the star fleet that they had such great faith in and had spent so much of their wealth building. As a result, it was quite well defended; only a major power could even consider striking it. No minor power or even the League of Non-Aligned Worlds would ever be able to muster the necessary forces.

Unfortunately for the Narns, the Ur-Quan definitely qualified as a major power.

The outpost’s sensor officer on duty at the time was a young Narn named G’Mar. Having no reason to suspect that anything would attack and nearing the end of his shift, G’Mar didn’t notice the hundreds of unidentified contacts on his screen for several seconds. When he did, he had to rub his eyes before he believed it. After this waste of precious time, however, G’Mar finally went into action.

“Commander! I’m detecting several hundred contact closing on our position!” G’Mar shouted.

“What? Identify!”

G’Mar had to go through all the known ship profiles they had on file before he was able to answer his CO. “Ur-Quan Dreadnaughts, all of them.”

“Damn!” the commander swore. “Scramble all fighters! Signal all our ships in the area to form up and attack. And get on the line to Homeworld and alert them of what’s happening!”

The Narn had long ago bought the information on the Ur-Quan that Zelnick was selling. They knew that the Kzer-Za conquered and enslaved. The Narn had long ago sworn they would never be slaves again.

Soon twenty G’Quan-class heavy cruisers and every fighter that the Narns could muster stood between their outpost and the advancing Ur-Quan forces. It was a pathetically small defense next to the attackers.

The huge green vessels launched hundreds of fighters between them. The little red spacecraft immediately got into formation and approached the Narn fighter screens.

Ur-Quan fighters were known for having an extremely short range, possessing fuel enough for only for several minutes of flight before they had to return to their Dreadnaughts. The Narn defenders knew this, and their fighter squadrons were instructed to draw out dog fighting for as long as possible.

The Ur-Quan didn’t know that the Narn were aware of their fighters’ weakness. What they did know was that in exchange for larger fuel tanks, their fighters had enormous speed and power. And in this particular engagement they outnumbered the enemy fighters by at least four to one.

The Ur-Quan fighter squadrons struck the Narn fighter screens like battering rams, not attempting anything resembling finesse. Guns blazing, they overwhelmed the Narn screen with pure power and numbers. Once it was in tatters, the fighters headed back to dock with their mother ships and the Dreadnaughts moved forward.

The G’Quans advanced, charging their powerful forward guns. The Narn knew they were beaten, but if they concentrated their firepower, they could take a few Dreadnaughts with them.

The Ur-Quan struck first, unleashing an apocalyptic assault of atomic blasts upon their enemies. For a brief moment, the area was as bright as a star.

Ur-Quan Dreadnaught SlaveMaster, minutes later

“Master Three, all enemy forces and the outpost have been destroyed,” Lord 999 reported.

“Casualties?” Master Three asked.

“Minimal losses of fighters,” Lord 999 said. “One ship lost when the enemy rammed it.”

Master Three was unpleasantly reminded of Shofixti tactics, but he brushed the similarity aside. Any species might resort to such a thing when facing death anyway. Only the Shofixti equipped their ships with large bombs for such a purpose.

“Acceptable,” he said. “Continue to the next target.”

Starship Vindicator
In orbit around K0631

“Are you getting anything, Miss Moraine?” Zelnick asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “Multiple life signs. Several hundred are clustered in a fairly small area. Sensors are picking them up as human.”

“Then it’s probably them,” Yeager said.

“Yes, sir,” Amy agreed. “Nobody would settle this world voluntarily. I can tell just from the initial readouts that it’s not very friendly. Also, I’m not detecting any artificial energy sources down there; they’re living in the stone age.”

Zelnick nodded. “Prep the lander. I’m going down there.”

“You? Sir, are you sure that’s wise?” Yeager asked. “I could go if you feel we need someone on the senior staff down there.”

“No, I need to do this,” Zelnick said. “Don’t worry, I’ll take a full security complement with me. You have the bridge.”

He went to the elevator and was gone. Yeager sighed softly. “Commander Yeager to Security Chief Shinzeki,” he said, activating the intercom. “The captain wants to go down to the planet. I want yourself and your best men down there to protect him.”

Docking bay of the Vindicator

Zelnick wasn’t surprised to find Lieutenant Shinzeki waiting for him by their planetary lander. In fact, he would’ve been much more surprised if Yeager hadn’t ordered the chief of security to accompany him.

What did surprise him was the fact that Shinzeki was apparently alone in the docking bay. “Where’s your team, Lieutenant?” he asked.

Shinzeki gestured toward the lander. “Already inside, sir. I wanted to have a word with you.”

“Good ahead,” Zelnick said.

“Sir, I have to strongly protest you going down to the planet,” Shinzeki said. “It’s dangerous, and nobody on this ship can take your place if we lose you down there.”

Like Monty, Shinzeki was one of the officers from the Star Control mission to Vela that had founded the colony and he had worn the uniform before Zelnick was even born. As a result, Shinzeki was one of the members of his crew that Zelnick secretly felt uncomfortable about ordering around. Still, that didn’t mean he was going to let Shinzeki dictate what he did.

“That’s why I’m taking you and your team with me,” Zelnick said, “to ensure that nothing happens to me.”

“Sir, we can’t trust those bastard Androsynth not to attack us en masse,” Shinzeki said. “They’re animals, sir.”

Zelnick crossed his arms. The hate in Shinzeki’s eyes was plain to see. “Do you have some particular problem with the Androsynth, Lieutenant?”

“My father,” Shinzeki said slowly, “was killed by the Androsynth Hit-and Run Squadron.”

Zelnick nodded. “I see,” he said. “Listen, Lieutenant, I intend to go down there and try and recruit the Androsynth to our side. The last thing I’ll need is a security officer who can’t control himself. If you don’t think that you can, I’ll get someone else to replace you on the mission. No discommendation will be put into my logs.”

“I feel that it’s my duty to personally guard you, sir,” Shinzeki said. “I give you my word I won’t damage your attempt at an alliance.”

Zelnick nodded. “Then let’s go.”

EarthDome

G’Kar paused to make sure that his outfit was on straight before knocking on the presidential aide’s door. These humans could be almost as preoccupied with appearance as the damned Centauri sometimes.

He had never bothered over such small details before, but circumstances were very different now than they had been just a few weeks ago. He knocked on the oak door.

“Come in,” the familiar voice called.

G’Kar entered. “Good day, Mr. Foxtrot,” he greeted the human as cheerfully as he could. “I hope you are well.”

“Very well, thank you, Ambassador,” Foxtrot replied, smiling.

Every human that G’Kar had encountered since the Minbari had arrived at Earth’s doorstep only to turn and leave without firing a shot had been very happy and grateful to be alive.

It was insufferable, really.

“So,” G’Kar said. “I take it that you have heard about your saviors invading the Narn Regime.”

“The Ur-Quan? Of course,” Foxtrot said. “The invasion of a major power is hardly something that can happen quietly.”

“Indeed,” G’Kar agreed, barely able to keep the growl from his voice. “And I’m afraid that we’re having some…minor difficulty with repelling the Ur-Quan advance.”

“How terrible,” Foxtrot said noncommittally.

“Yes,” G’Kar said. “And while we are aware that the Earth Alliance has a great deal of rebuilding to do in the wake of your war with the Minbari, we were hoping that you could assist us in defending our hard won freedom. Do not forget that we were the only race to help you in your fight against the Minbari.”

“You wish for out help?” Foxtrot asked, feigning surprise. “Well, as you know, EarthForce was decimated in the war. We’re not in much of a position to help anyone right now. Still…”

“Still?” G’Kar prompted him after several moments of silence.

“As you may be aware, the New Alliance of Free Stars has generously provided us with quite a wealth of advanced technology,” Foxtrot said. “The recipe for stabilized antimatter fuel. Powerful weapons called hellbore cannons that may be on par with Minbari guns…it might just give you a fighting chance against the Ur-Quan.”

“Why, Mr. Foxtrot—” G’Kar began.

“Of course I must warn you that it won’t be cheap,” Foxtrot interrupted. “Narn currency’s been greatly devalued ever since you were invaded.”

G’Kar recoiled as if struck. He himself had said almost the exact same thing to Foxtrot not long ago, when it was the humans who needed help. The malicious gleam in the presidential aide’s eyes was all G’Kar needed to see to be absolutely sure that Foxtrot had merely been toying with him this whole time. Even if he were willing to demean himself by going through the charade, the humans would not share with the Narns the technological secrets given to them by the New Alliance of Free Stars.

“Why you—!” G’Kar rose, fuming.

Foxtrot merely looked innocently at him. “We are only returning the deed that your people did for us,” he said.

Wordlessly, G’Kar stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Fine. If the humans wouldn’t help them, they would drive away the Ur-Quan by themselves.

Even in his fury, G’Kar knew that the Narn Regime didn’t have the forces to do that.