Chryse Planitia, Mars - August 8th, 2267.
The Director of the Bureau of Telepathic Integration stood at the pressure-shielded window of his borrowed office, and looked out upon the frost-laced surface of Mars, his face bleak as the cold sands outside. It was just dark enough to see Earth, hovering low above the western horizon where the sun had set, a short time before... and after a moment, he forced himself to look at that harmless-seeming dot of green light, and review what had come before, as well as what might *yet* be.
For about seven months now, as all knew and *could* not forget, the cradle of Mankind had become what amounted to a planet-sized prison... the quarantine enforced by those soldiers of Earthforce who'd survived the disastrous confrontation with the Drakh that had started the crisis. A battle in which one of the Interstellar Alliance's Victory class destroyer prototypes had been destroyed, its crew valiantly sacrificing themselves so that the Drakh's one-and-only planet-killer might be destroyed.
And all for nothing. So many telepaths had been trapped on Earth when the Drakh had unleashed their deadly plague - and now, like the rest, if a cure was not found, they would all die what might amount to horrible, painful deaths.
Like every other human who'd been off world during the attack, the Director had, in the weeks and months since the confrontation in Earth's skies, found himself unable to put this tragedy out of his mind. To date, Captain Gideon's search for the cure had turned up nothing -- *could* a cure even be found in time? The Director wished he had the answer to that question... but he was a telepath, not a precognitive. He had no wish to witness what might yet be - and as the man who'd been chosen to oversee the activities of human telepaths since the end of the war that had very nearly destroyed his kind as well as tearing apart the Earth Alliance - he'd quickly learned that what operatives he had, simply weren't enough to get the job done properly... while governing their operations had become more and more difficult, as well.
As a case in point, there was the matter of Viyana Metois and Edward Cattrall. Metois and Cattrall were two of his best P12 monitors - except... except of course that Metois had never *quite* set aside what amounted to her single most deadly obsession - to track down the powerful 'renegade' P12 named Sheynell Keynes, a young woman who'd once served the infamous Alfred Bester as his most trusted associate... and bring her to justice.
The woman who'd once been her firmest friend, before wars and destinies had torn them apart.
What Metois didn't know, of course, was that he possessed other sources of information - and those sources had revealed to him what Keynes had done, after she'd escaped from EA territory more than two years before. Having escaped the destruction of one of the Psi Corps' greatest bases, Keynes had gone to Tuzanor, seeking asylum - and that request, as it turned out, had been granted by John Sheridan and his advisory council. Just thereafter, Keynes had enlisted with the Rangers - and then, after the Drakh attack, she'd disappeared from plain view, to undertake a mission of critical importance...
While a *single* source the Director had acquired had revealed the truth in full -- a source who had also revealed some of the same information to Metois -- for a price. Some time before the attack, the Minbari warrior caste had built a prototype White Star battlecruiser named the 'Shard of Night'... and in the wake of the plague's release, President Sheridan had assigned the Rangers' best, brightest and youngest the task of protecting Gideon and his crew. Thus far, as near as the Director could tell, the Rangers assigned to that ship had done a damn fine job.
Except... except, apparently in recent days, they'd been cast beyond the Rim of the galaxy in some sort of freak accident... and had only just barely returned alive, or something along those lines. The Director didn't know all the details, but he didn't have to. Sheridan and the Anla'shok High Council had almost certainly recalled the crew of the 'Shard' to Minbar to be debriefed on their adventures - and Metois and Cattrall, who'd been sent to a conference on Minbar involving telepaths from all the races to possess their gift -- were now seeing one of their dreams coming true. Because if *he* knew that Keynes and her crew were returning to Minbar... they probably did, as well.
And wouldn't you know it?... he didn't have any people to spare to try and stop them from doing something that would almost certainly destroy both of their careers.
The Director whispered a curse. What Metois didn't understand was that ever since Keynes had left the Psi Corps, she'd been trying (and mostly succeeding, from what he'd heard) to atone for her mistakes the only way she knew how - no, the best way, the Director mentally corrected himself -- in service to the Anla'shok. To bring her back here would be a mistake of the greatest caliber - because even if Metois succeeded in capturing her, the Rangers would probably seek to challenge his operative's actions... and if things went badly, they might even succeed in bringing her *and* Cattrall up on charges. The Director scowled -- no one, *least* of all him, wanted another Brianna Tolmanes situation to develop. Most of the Bureau's senior telepaths, especially him, remembered what she and Lyta Alexander had done in the spring of 2265...
Damn it all, what a horrible mess this was - was there anything he could do to stop this from getting right out of hand?
"Director." A pleasant contralto voice whispered from behind. "I thought I might find you here."
The Director whirled, shock emblazoned on his features, as a gray-cloaked figure, her features nearly invisible within the cloak's hood, strode into view around the corner behind him. This... this was simply impossible. He knew that voice, knew the feel of her mind better than almost any other - what was she doing here? The Director moved towards the figure, step by trembling step, wanting to believe, wanting to...
A single shake of head was all he was given... but it was enough. What was past could not be reclaimed, as someone had told him once -- but that was sometimes the way it had to be. Never- theless, there were some things that still had to be said -- and the first thing that came to mind was...
"My God - is it really you?"
"You know that it is -- and I think you know why I've returned here, as well."
"I think I'd like to hear your version, before I make any judgment calls, actually -- especially after what you said to those ISN reporters last year..."
The cloaked figure laughed, the sound mirthless in the stillness of the office. "Oh... that. I suppose you're referring to the 'I will never return to Tuzanor; there would be too many painful memories involved' speech."
"That *would* be the one, yes." the Director replied, his tone wry.
"What I said was the truth -- at that point. I've been... abused *and* used by too many -- the Vorlons, Bester... and others. I've been blackmailed, and I have done terrible things to those I love and care about -- and I have known great shame because of my actions and choices. And for a very long time now, running away from my obligations has been easier then facing them."
"And now?"
"I can't take it anymore!" the other telepath suddenly exclaimed, her voice raw and emotional. "I'm so tired of being lonely -- I need to find somewhere where I can *belong* again, somewhere I can escape from my past -- and reclaim the life I once had, the only pleasant years I've had in a lifetime of sadness."
"And to get that, you're going to try and save her, aren't you? To try and open a door you thought shut forever."
The cloaked telepath raised her eyes to meet the Director's -- and nodded. "Then you understand -- I was hoping you would. Needed you to, actually."
"Of course I do." And even as he said the words, they suddenly moved into a fierce embrace, the embrace of two close friends who suspected this might be the last time they would see one another for a very long time... if ever. "I've always understood. Now *go* -- she needs you now, more than ever before. Metois must be stopped -- and now that Alexander's dead, you're probably the only one capable of pulling this off."
"A burden I've long since accepted." the cloaked telepath sadly replied. "Remember this night, Director -- for if I succeed, and if *they* succeed*, perhaps..."
"Perhaps there will be a party such as no one has ever seen." he replied. "I'll be there -- will you?"
The other telepath finally smiled -- and then, with a rustle of gray fabric, she vanished into the night -- and the Director whispered four words -- the only words that seemed to fit. Words that whispered to him of memories bright as a flame.
"And so it begins."
But how it would end -- now that had yet to be determined.
* * *
Minbar nearspace -- 13:30 hrs Earth Standard Time. August 9th, 2267.
The gate had a history matched by few others in Interstellar Alliance territory. From this gate, the Minbari had taken their first tentative steps into a realm they knew not -- the colony ships which had left to establish their colonies had begun their journeys here... and from here, Valen had walked forth with his armies behind him to face the Darkness... and drive it away. That darkness had returned eventually, of course... but eventually a new and different age had dawned, and the planet the gate watched over had become the capital of a new Alliance. An Alliance of peace -- and as necessary, an alliance of peoples still willing to fight for what they believed in.
An alliance guarded by a force named... Anla'shok. And then, it happened -- on the nearby watcher-station, resonant chimes warned of the event at hand... even as bright flashes of light ran down the tines of the gate, and a brilliant bluish-white portal flared into existence... out of which emerged the Anla'shok battlecruiser named *Shard of Night*.
The crew of that ship had travelled far in recent days, farther than any of them had believed they would since mission's commencement -- and now, they had returned to a place which, while it was not their home, as the ancient being named Lorien had explained to their captain in recent days, was certainly a place that was dear to all of them.
And the reasons this was so? Now they were numerous, *indeed*.
* * *
"Captain Tikopai!" John Sheridan began with a grin, "So -- it appears as if we can now list 'returned from the dead' to your list of accomplishments..."
"Hardly that, sir!" Julia Tikopai replied, her smile not much fainter, as she reclined at her ease in the *Shard*'s captain's ready room. "Although -- Lorien did mention that we should 'inquire after your health if we were so willing', upon our return."
Sheridan's eyebrows rose. "Now hold on... are you trying to tell me that you actually ran into *Lorien*, out there?"
Julia nodded. "Yes, sir -- we did. I... thought I should hold that and a few other things back from the preliminary log my comm officer forwarded to ISA headquarters shortly after our rendezvous with the *Night's Dagger* -- you never do know who might be listening."
"That is a fact." Sheridan admitted -- but then he began to frown suspiciously. "Ah... what *else* have you 'held back', if you don't mind me asking?"
Julia's expression sobered. "I think *that* should wait until I and my senior staff reach the surface, Mr. President."
Sheridan nodded. "The others and I will be waiting, Captain." And with that said, the President's image faded from sight -- at which point Julia rose to her feet with a frown, and moved over to the small travel-bag that was sitting in the chair nearby, along with her captain's cloak. Was there anything she'd forgotten to pack?
* * *
"You want to do *what*?" Klairika exclaimed, as she and Sheynell moved down the corridor towards the hanger bay together.
"It's a quite simple request -- I just haven't had time until *now* to take the final step." the other Ranger replied, her expression one of challenge. "After all, you have one, Larieken has one -- our captain, of course, has one that was sent across a thousand years to her by Valen, if you can believe *that* story -- why, even our happy-go-lucky doc has one..."
Klairika began to smile at that description -- Veyshahk, of course, had been almost beside himself with joy ever since the *Shard* had emerged from the darkness to aid Nathan Gardinier and the Rangers of the 'Night's Dagger' some days before -- while he and his assistants Jharais and Taylene Nividia had been inseparable ever since. "So -- you mean to bring your case before F'hursna Sech Durhan and Sech Westcastle, then?"
"I do." the telepath confirmed. "I've been practicing my movements ever since we left Minbar -- but after that whole thing that happened on Brakos when we broke into your mother's fortress to rescue you, I decided I should try and earn my fighting pike, simply because..."
"Because you relied entirely on your abilities to keep you safe during that mission," the Brakiri finished for her, "And if my mother had cast a telepath against you during the crisis point of your rescue..."
"Things could have got a little sticky -- let's just leave it at that, shall we?"
"Quite understandable -- while your reasoning is sound. For now, however, perhaps we should concentrate more on what we will be saying to the Advisory Council later today..."
* * *
Far below the Ranger battlecruiser, a single, long haired figure in black stood upon a stone ledge in the City of Sorrows, and looked up towards the sky -- and the target she knew had finally arrived in- system. A target that would, all too soon, come within her grasp. Viyana Metois had waited for this moment for a *very* long time. And soon enough...
She would have the answers she sought -- at last. A pleasant family reunion, this would not be...
"But even now, after all that's happened, that link remains..." she whispered.
"And everyone knows what happens to children who've been bad."
* * *
[Cue Dramatic Music]
KLAIRIKA ALIDIAE
We are the Watchers...
[Klairika standing on the bridge of the SHARD OF NIGHT, an image of the EXCALIBUR hanging in the air in front of her.]
SHEYNELL KEYNES
We are the Warriors.
[Images: Sheynell at the tactical station, the battlecruiser firing its main gun and destroying a Drakh capital ship]
LARIEKEN
We are the Guardians...
[Image: Larieken defending his Captain against Z'shailyl attackers, warrior pike in hand]
VEYSHAHK
We are the Healers.
[Image: Veyshahk at his desk in MedSection, an image of the Drakh virus on his computer screen.]
DASOURI and NICHOLAS DAWSON
We are the exiles...
[Image: Nicholas in Engineering, Dasouri at the helm of the SHARD]
JULIA TIKOPAI
And I am the Seeker.
[Image: Julia's face, lit by candles, the stars of the Galaxy beyond]
KLAIRIKA ALIDIAE
We are the Rangers of the SHARD OF NIGHT, in this, the Earth Year 2267.
[Image: The SHARD OF NIGHT enters, from the left...]
JULIA TIKOPAI
This is our story.
[... before engaging darklight mode, and going into hyperspace.]
* * *
STAR AND CIRCLE:
"THE SEEKER'S FIRE"
* * *
"STAR AND CIRCLE" created by David Goldingay
<dgolding@connect.ab.ca>
* * *
Legal Disclaimer:
BABYLON 5, CRUSADE and all characters and situations thereof are the creations and copyrighted property of J. Michael Straczynski and Babylonian Productions. This series is a non-profit creation for the purposes of private entertainment only. Original characters and situations are copyright of the author, 1997-2000.
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