"Do you want to know how it began, and where? In such a simple manner, as you will see...but simplicities, as we all understand, can so rapidly become complexities..."
* * *
Interstellar Alliance Experimental Shipyard Number One.
Mid August, 2265.
It was, in his opinion, the worst task he had yet been given...but as always, Varsak had the final word. Varsak had been the one, beyond all expectations, who had invited him into Minbari space to work on this project, less then two standard years before. Varsak, the one responsible for introducing him to concepts and technologies a hundred generations beyond anything his kind could emulate. Varsak, the sometimes smiling, mostly scowling Minbari, who had introduced him to a new world.
And Varsak who had also, quite bluntly, after he had accepted the offer to join the otherwise all-Minbari design team, told him that there was now no going back on his word. That while there was certainly something special about him, ordinarily, they would not have chosen a human to help them. But this unique quality, a quality that none of them, as of yet, had had the grace to tell him about (but what was new in that...they were Minbari, after all) would not keep him alive, if word of this project was to find its way into the hands of the Earth Alliance government.
For they would *know* who would be responsible, if such a thing were to occur; and what happened thereafter would NOT be pleasant...and did he understand this?
He nodded grimly; he had understood all too well the meaning of those words. But now, the construction and testing phase was just about complete!...and the task he had been promised, from the beginning, was about to come to pass. For that, and that alone, the patient wait, the servitude, and the silence had all been worthwhile. In any case, that government was busy at the moment with other matters, and greater concerns. They would not notice what was going on here, because the Telepath Crisis (almost a war, now) overruled all other situations in its importance, for the time being.
Dawson smiled grimly; Varsak had allowed him to escape that madness, a madness that would burn itself out eventually, one way, or the other. For that, he would thank him; for now, however, it was, perhaps for the last time, time to deal with that man, once again.
The man, in his opinion, who did not deserve to run as important a project as this one would eventually end up being.
"When are they due to arrive?" Samuel Drake demanded, his expression its usual mix of superiority and possessiveness. "They're late, Mr. Dawson. I'm disappointed!...in this admittedly simple matter, we have been expecting better performance then...
This. You assured us that they would be on time!"
"You must have patience, Drake..." Nicholas Dawson replied, as he strode up beside his supervisor to look out on the shipyard, and the all important, half-built starships contained within. "I received a message from them not more then ten standard minutes ago."
"And?"
"They left from the waypoint near Minbar slightly behind schedule; that's all. My superior, Chief Engineer Varsak, informed me that there has been a problem with the gravimetric stabilizers."
"I trust the problem has been corrected, then?" Drake replied, a scowl close to forming on his face. "We need to know if the ideas that you and your Minbari comrades have been trying out are at all feasible, and whether or not those ideas can be applied to our ships, out there! If they do not return in the next hour...if there are *more* unforseen complications...it may set the ENTIRE project behind schedule.
That cannnot be allowed, Dawson. The President and his Advisory Board will not stand for it."
"You worry far too much, Drake." he replied, keeping a smile on his face (though, occasionally, with Drake, it was sometimes so difficult...the man could be maddening). "The problems they discovered with the hybrid systems are being corrected as we speak...and the design is a sound one, as I have repeatedly explained to you for weeks now. We are, in the end, as I have said before, dealing with what is esentially a variant on an already tried-and-true design, the Minbari 'White Star' light cruiser...very few things were expected to go wrong during the test run, even with as, ah, unique a variant as this starship ended up being."
"Yes..." Drake murmured, his gaze now far away from the here and now, "You did tell us that, didn't you? Pity we won't be able to utilize this testbed approach for much longer, though, Dawson; I was...hoping to keep moving in this vein for at least another six months."
Inwardly, he snorted. Yeah, right...but spending time among the Minbari had taught him certain restraint, so his face showed none of this. "Unfortunately, Drake, all things and all stages in projects must eventually come to an end. Once we're sure that the limited principles test as envisioned is a success, our design must move on to perform its assigned duties...and then you may proceed with the full systemics installation on the EXCALIBUR and the VICTORY, which is, after all, your real purpose in working out here, isn't it?"
"Yes, but..."
"Additionally, the use that the Minbari will be putting this ship to is a good one...and follows a tradition laid down by human, and even some Minbari engineers, over the last few centuries. Some of the best projects known have been black projects, and while the White Star Fleet has moved openly for years now, serving the interests of the Alliance, it seems, shall we say, prudent, for there to be a more secret and vastly more powerful Alliance warship, or warships, moving behind the scenes...
Although, of course, nowhere near in the same league as your 'babies', out there..."
Drake snorted. "You give speeches amazingly well, for an engineer, Dawson."
"I learn by observance, Drake. The Ranger High Councillor, Westcastle, was remarkably persuasive in his views when he visited us three months ago to discuss one possible use for our design. He's a good speaker, comes with practice, I imagine. And I'm also given to understand that he and the President are close; hence, it seems that what Westcastle wants, Westcastle usually *gets*."
"Military politicians; the worst of the lot, in my opinion."
"Perhaps." Privately, though, he snickered. What a *fool*.
And then, a warning chime alerted him, and he turned, to observe (as expected) a section of nearspace flash-twist, and then spring open into the familiar blue spiral of a jump point, out of which came a lithe, dark gray, ever-so-deadly and familiar shape.
And what a design is was, he marvelled, as the just arrived starship matched velocities with the station, and quickly came to absolute rest. There would, in all likelihood, never be another like it, if what Varsak had told him was true; but that did not matter, because in the end...if a White Star was a hawk...
Then this ship could end up being tbe the finest eagle that ever flew...until the completion of the EXCALIBUR's, that was...and maybe, not even then! With a now-genuine smile on his face, he turned back towards the still grumpy Drake. "There, Drake...you see? Just as I said."
"Well, they'd better appreciate all the work that's been done for them, putting that ship together." came the reply, as the Project Head of the Advanced Destroyer Project abruptly turned away, intent on other business now that this particular worry was done away with.
"They'd better..." he whispered, turning back towards the viewport, to gaze once more on the ship he's helped to build, silouetted against the distant stars. "Or they'll be hearing from me on the matter.
"In more ways then one."
* * *
Early September, 2265. Interstellar Alliance Headquarters, Minbar.
"Mr. President." Theresa Halloran bluntly began, as she strode into the office of John J. Sheridan, President of the Interstellar Alliance, "Please forgive me if I come straight to the point. As you no doubt understand, due to the current situation in the Earth Alliance, my time here is limited, and having to set aside days from that schedule to make this trip to Minbar doesn't make things *any* easier. In your recent message to Babylon 5, you managed, as usual, to say a lot without saying anything at all, excepting the fact that unless a major galactic crisis were to happen in the interim, I should make best possible speed for ISA headquarters.
Well, here I am, Mr. President. Do you want to maybe be a *little* less mysterious, now?"
"My apologies, Ms. Halloran..." John Sheridan replied, his gaze more serious then it had been the last few times they had met. "But what I have to say to you could not be shared over *any* channel, open or otherwise, and this matter even overrules our concerns related to the Earth Alliance Telepath Crisis, unbelievable as that may sound."
";All right...now you've got my attention."
The President nodded grimly. "As an additional precaution, this office has now been sealed against any and all surveilance methods known to the Minbari...which should, in my opinion, just about cover the whole spectrum of those who might be trying to listen in on our conversation."
"I see; this would be serious, then."
"Serious, yes, but don't get the impression this is bad news...it certainly isn't that. But before we continue, let me ask you a question... what is your current assessment of the secrecy surrounding our Advanced Destroyer Project?"
"The way you've set it up, Mr. President, no one who doesn't know about it *now* is going to find out anything until they're ready to be unveiled."
Sheridan smiled at that...and once again, she saw how fast he had aged over the past several years. There had been a time, not so long ago, when his hair and beard had been dark; but now, the silver in that beard was rapidly becoming predominant; not that this wasn't to be expected. He'd been through so much over the last ten years...and *especially* in the last five.
"Exactly! But as it turns out, there are other projects afoot within the Alliance that make the secrecy I ordered placed on the Destroyer project look almost...simple. In fact, before three days ago, even I didn't know about the matter we will shortly be discussing."
This was going to get irritating in a hurry, she decided...although, she knew that the President occasionally enjoyed this sort of wild goose chase. And since he hadn't known about it, that meant only one thing. "From that comment, may I assume this project is of Minbari inception?"
"You may."
"And since that;s true, the individual responsible for alerting you about the 'matter' would, therefore, have been Delenn."
Sheridan ruefully nodded. "Every once in a while, you remind me of the reason I gave you your job, Ms. Halloran. As you know, Delenn's had a lot of practice, over the years, at keeping secrets...but now the ball's in my court, I need to decide what we should do about this; and what do you know?...it's time for the little tour I planned. Time to go for a walk."
"A tour?" she exclaimed. "Mr. President! Forgive me if I'm falling a little bit behind the power curve, but what exactly *are* we talking about here? A ship of some sort?"
"Follow and learn, Ms. Halloran..." was Sheridan's only reply, as the President briskly strode out of his office, leaving her only one option. "Follow and learn."
"Follow, where?" she demanded, as she caught up with Sheridan a short time later, beneath the blazing Minbari sun.
"Look up." was his reply, and she did...oh, how typical! So intent had she been on catching up to the President that she hadn't thought as to the matter of transportation. Above them, a winged Minbari craft hung, and even as she watched, a circle at the base of the craft began to glow...matching an all-too similar circle around their feet.
"The ride gets interesting from here on in." Sheridan confided, a broad grin now on his face.
"You've *got* to be kidding..."
"Relax, this is perfectly safe. The first time that Delenn and I did this, she told me that the Minbari have had this technology for almost a thousand years."
"Right. And that's supposed to make me feel better?"
* * *
Shortly thereafter, and in a shorter time then she would have believed possible, the winged Minbari craft had achieved orbit. And as usual, Tessa couldn't escape from the fly-on-the-wall feeling their visual technology always gave her. The President and her were standing alone, in one of their holographic 'viewing' chambers...unfortunately, this meant, for all intents and purposes, that to all visual purposes, there didn't appear to be any walls.
Or a floor, for that matter.
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" she muttered, as the vast northern icecap of Minbar swung below them, half in, and half out of night, and partly in shadows.
"I don't have *any* idea what you're talking about, Ms. Halloran." the President replied, a look of combined surprise and amusement on his face (yeah, right). "I've always enjoyed how this lets me get out and away from it all...but if you prefer, we can bring the floor back."
And back it was, to her relief. "But let me finally come to the point of bringing you here...the reason we've come up over the north pole of Minbar. The Minbari have recently given the Alliance what amounts to one Hell of a gift...a ship which, while it won't compare in sheer firepower and complexity to the Advanced Destroyers we're building, is certainly far more then equal to anything else its size in the local galactic region."
At that, she turned sharply. "If this new class of Minbari ship is so powerful, why not simply build a fleet of them, like the White Stars, Mr. President?"
"That would be an easy way out, wouldn't it? To build bigger and better ships until no one can stand against you. No, it is *precisely* for that reason that the Minbari insisted the numbers of this class be extremely limited...but there is another reason, as well. As you will soon see, this new ship isn't all that big, no more then about twice the size of a White Star...but the cost? It cost them more to build this prototype then it does to build one of their full-sized war cruisers."
Now this was *really* starting to sound interesting. "I see. And why is that, exactly?"
"You'll see, soon enough. As a matter of fact, we've almost reached the docking orbit...if you look closely, right over there, you should be able to see her."
She followed the President's finger, but all she could see was stars and the blackness of space. "You'll forgive me, Mr. President, but I don't..."
And then, she did.
"Oh, my *God*."
"That's one way of putting it, I suppose." Sheridan turned away for a moment. "This is President Sheridan on Flyer ZHAUDRA; we are on final approach. I'm going to assume you gentlemen are ready for the tour?"
"Greetings to you, as well, Mr. President." a cultured, obviously Minbari voice returned. "The crew of 'Vi'dalae An'Shaka' await the visit of you and your companion, Director Theresa Halloran; we stand ready for your arrival."
"Glad to hear it; Sheridan out."
"Ah, 'Vi'dalae An'Shaka', Mr. President?"
Sheridan smiled, a little grimly, now. "It's a Minbari name, Ms. Halloran, and an old and distuinguished one. In our language, it can best be translated...
as SHARD OF NIGHT."
* * *
Sector 91 by 7 by 14.
"They just never learn, do they?"
"Indeed not. It is the way of Raiders; knock them down, and they return. Destroy them, and they regroup, and rebuild, and hope that they will not be noticed."
"How many ships are there, Larieken?"
"It would appear that there are only three, for now, accompanied by a small number of fighters."
"Get me the Sha'vei. We're going in."
"As you wish; stand by."
* * *
Elias Wenzel had not yet learned his lesson. That this would soon change had not even entered into his worldview. He believed himself and his small group of ships to be unstoppable...after all, every raid they had attempted, thus far, had succeeded admirably. The attack on this convoy would be their ninth, and Wenzel knew that it would succeed, as always. They had already managed to isolate the ship he wanted from the rest of the convoy, and now, it was only a matter of time until success was at hand.
Unfortunately for Wenzel, nine was *not* his lucky number. Not today.
A harsh chiming on his board broke him out of his gloating. What the Hell?
"Waagh!" one of his pilots, Ezzen, wailed. "I told you!...I told you this might happen! It's the..." And then, as Wenzel watched in numb astonishment, Ezzen and a couple of his other fighter pilots abruptly ceased to exist; but not all, not the rest of them apparently needed much coaxing, what with four of the most advanced warships in known space suddenly knocking at their door.
Wenzel gritted his teeth, and then sighed. The game was up, far sooner then he had hoped. Who was the blighter who had sold him out? Who?
"This is the White Star Fleet to Raiding Party." a ruthless, ever so youthful, and *female* (female?) voice announced. "You are to break off your attack immediately. You will recall your remaining fighters, and prepare to be escorted to the Misura Prime colony, on the edge of Brakiri territory. There, you will be turned over to the local authorities and charged with the crimes you have committed, as is applicable to the laws of Brakir. Failure to comply with these orders will result in lethal force being applied against you.
Do you understand these orders?"
After a fractional hesitation, his left index finger came down on the toggle. "We...we understand your orders, Ranger squadron; we will comply."
* * *
White Star Four.
On the bridge of the flagship of the White Star Fleet, a young woman in Ranger blacks sat in the Captain's chair of that bridge, her expression set and determined, but at the same time, pleased.
The young woman appeared to be in her early twenties, and unless you knew her better, you would assume this to be the case, especially given the weight of knowledge, responsibility and occasional pain visible in her dark brown eyes. Her shoulder-length black hair was tied sharply back into a tight double braid, for she had learnt the hard way that in battle, it would not do to let *that* get in the way.
Over the months she had been aboard this vessel, she had proven to her crew, again and again, the reason she was here. Those Rangers had learned, the hard way, that to meet her gaze was difficult...it was almost, at times, like facing a hawk, ready to stoop on its prey, so intense her gaze could be. But then again, they hadn't needed to look into her eyes to see that she was amongst the finest Rangers ever to earn the jade sigil.
And more a warning, were the twinned second sigils on either side of her uniform collar. A five-pointed jade star set in a circle of silver. For this Ranger was *also* an Observer, one of only two known to the Anla'shok. The other, the First, had been wife to the man that some named Rimstalker for more then four years now, and served honorably as an instructor of the noble arts in Tuzanor. The other...the younger; the Follower? She was the Ranger who lead them, here and now, as first officer to their Sha'vei.
Julia Tikopai turned abruptly to her operations officer, the Minbari who had stood loyally by her side for almost five years now, and allowed herself to smile. "Well, now, that wasn't too painful, now was it?"
"As you expected." Larieken drolly replied, "They have capitulated to your demands."
"What other choice did they have, Larieken?" Julia replied, settling herself back down into the command chair. "For the most part, the Fleet has been cutting the Raider groups into smaller and smaller pieces over the past few years. Eventually, if we keep on as we have been, we're going to get them all in the end."
"One can only hope that will *eventually* be the case."
At that point, the bridge doors rather abruptly slid aside, and Julia shot to her feet as the master of her White Star, and of the Fleet, for that matter, entered the chamber, his face showing a grim little smile. "Anla'shok Tikopai. Report!"
"Sha'vei Tashann. It is with respect that I can report that we and the triad accompanying us have successfully engaged and neutralized a small group of Raider vessels. White Stars 97, 107 and 112 have been dispatched to escort the Raider Group to Misura Prime. The Raider commander has agreed to all our stipulations."
"As expected." Tashann replied, settling into the seat that Julia had recently vacated. "Yes, the choice that you and the other triad first officers made here today was a just one...I, and the other captains, are pleased with your actions here today."
At that, she bowed slightly, but did not hide her pleased smile. "We live to serve the One, Sha'vei. In all things."
"Perhaps...we will yet see whether your true promise will eventually be realized, young Tikopai. You have a long road to walk before that day arrives."
"Of course, sir. If I may inquire, now that this operation is deemed a success, what is our next destination?"
Tashann pursed his lips thoughtfully. "It has been some time since we have visited the Narn-Centauri frontier, Anla'shok Tikopai, some time indeed. And even now, three years after their war with the Alliance, the Centauri are not pleased to see us about. We must be careful...even more careful then we were in our recent mission related to the human telepaths."
"We are Rangers, sir; we walk where no others will follow, to see the things that must be seen, to ward against the darkness. What danger are the Centauri, compared to that?"
"Well said, Julia, as always. Very well, then, you may set course."
Mere moments thereafter, the White Star that commanded all others in the field prepared to depart, to join its sister ships in another place, and another front. But no one on that ship, not Larieken, not Julia Tikopai, and certainly not Sha'vei Tashann, noticed the tiny black globe that followed them through space, undetectable, and undetected.
And that, of course, was the whole point.
* * *
Elsewhere...and elsewhen.
Beneath a icy-black sky, a fire burned in the middle of a ring of stones. On either horizon, the moons of this forgotten, unknown, peaceful world could be seen. Peaceful for a reason. And for that reason, the order that now called this place home had come here, to escape a Darkness. A Darkness that the elders amongst the Order declared *not* yet passed from the Galaxy.
But there were others amongst this Order who chose to be not quite so strict about such matters. And one in particular, who would involve himself *so* much that the inevitable would eventually occur.
But that time was not yet. The crisis that would bring this about was still in the future; predictable, but there was a little time, yet. A little time to attend to other matters. Matters that, for now, seemed to be insignificant on the grand scale of things; but how often had *insignificant* matters proven to be the snowflake that set off an avalanche?
Far too often, as all of his Order knew.
With calculating, amused gaze, he raised the globe of glass in his hand, and watched it spring to life.
"So; you think you know and understand your path, do you? You will soon come to understand that nothing is ever that simple. Prodigal Daughter, some have named you, and 'Promise of the Future', others have cried forth! Ah, yes...but *which* future is that? The future that is wished, or the future that is wanted?"
Galen raised his face to the star-dappled sky, and sighed. "I fear, young Julia Tikopai, that you will find out, sooner then you might like."