"STAR AND CIRCLE: THE SEEKER'S FIRE"
EPISODE THIRTEEN: "THE FLAME IN THE CRYSTAL"
* * *
Starring,
ETHAN HAWKE as Renly Moreau
SHARI BELAFONTE as Dr. Elizabeth Trent
JASON PRIESTLEY as Nathan Gardinier
MEGAN WARD as Rebecca Anderson
JOHN CORBETT as Raiphin
ED WASSER as Aazhvar
With,
WAYNE ALEXANDER as Lorien
*and* GARY OLDMAN 'as' Zhe'chal
* * *
(disclaimers and associated descriptions in overture)
* * *
<<ACT ONE>
The 'Shard of Night' -- Captain's Ready Room -- enroute to star cluster Messier 2. Aug 5th, 2267 -- 2217 hrs, EST.
"And now, of course, will come your inevitable question --" Lorien dryly allowed, as he and Julia retired into her 'inner sanctum' to discuss matters. "What does the oldest intelligence in this region of space find to laugh about, after witnessing as much as he has?"
"I had wondered that, actually --" Julia replied, her voice just a *bit* tart. "But because I respect what you've already done for us --"
Lorien's eyes twinkled with something *resembling* amusement. "You decided you should preserve my pride... my dignity? An admirable intent, young Observer -- if unnecessary. What I find so... amusing is your concept of home -- where, exactly, is your home?"
She opened her mouth to reply -- and then froze. This was unbelievable -- but it *was* happening, all the same. He'd done a similar thing to William at one point -- she remembered her friend and commander telling her about it one night during a particularly memorable dinner in Tuzanor. Lorien seemed capable of asking the *truly* important questions -- of laying bare secrets and concepts that needed to be explored.
"It is a more difficult question to answer then you expected, isn't it?" the First One commented, his expression contemplative. "This has always been your way, though -- from your years as an innocent under the sun of your lost homeworld -- through the pain you endured under the tutelege of she who was at one time your mentor... and the warrior your kind names Rimstalker -- to now. Commander of this vessel named *Shard of Night* -- a ship of destiny, lost upon an ocean of fate. You seek to return to your home -- but I ask again, where is that place? Lost Earth, laid low by the Drakh and their revenge? The Minbari homeworld, perhaps -- the Valley of Sorrows, where so many of your teachers and friends reside?
Or is this your home, now? Where you are needed most -- as guardian to the vessel of search, as it travels between one place and the next. If this is who you are -- you must embrace the only home you have, and the only home you may ever have, in this life."
She laughed, the sound bitter in the stillness of the room. "You may be right -- but if so... will this be my lot in life from now until the grave, to command one ship after another... or many? Will the end of the line never come? Will the mission never be over?"
"Difficult questions to answer, those are --" Lorien gravely replied, "But there is something I *can* tell you at this time. Before the end, there will come a moment when you will be given a choice between the only home you will ever have and an exile more final then any you have ever known. And when that moment comes... only you can make the decision that will make all the difference."
"And what... what does that mean?"
"I cannot tell you -- you will understand my words, however, when the moment arrives. For now... we have other matters to attend to, however. Soon enough, you and your crew will emerge into the congregation of stars where the ancients reside -- and you must be ready to deal with what you will find there."
* * *
ISAS 'Night's Dagger' -- enroute to begin patrol pattern near the *Excalibur*. 0435 hrs, EST... Aug 6th, 2267.
His eyes narrow with exhaustion, Veyshahk gazed out upon the shimmery veils of hyperspace -- and while exhausted he was, he could not sleep -- would not, he suspected, sleep deeply again until those he counted as comrades and yes, as friends as well, returned to his side.
And if they did not? Veyshahk briefly glanced over at the candle burning at his bedside -- the Sech'sha, no doubt, would tell him that 'this too would pass in time' -- although he quite honestly believed that there was in all likelihood one of them who was also holding vigil as he was -- waiting for word of *An'shaka-Dal*'s fate. That 'member' of course, was Sech Westcastle. In time, if the worst came to pass, perhaps there would be time for them to exchange words -- but that time was not yet.
For he did not, in his heart, believe that the 'portal' his captain and her crew had traveled into had destroyed them -- for every portal, there *was* an other side... and thus, the possibility of return. And until then... there was a still a purpose to fulfill.
With a deep sigh, he crossed to the other side of the room, activated the holographic display housed there -- and a moment later, an image of the Drakh nanovirus hung in the air in front of him. This valuable piece of data had been acquired only short weeks before, during the same time frame his captain and her crew had been battling the Drakh. It was to stop this... abomination that he had left Minbar to walk at her side -- and it was, perhaps, only this that kept him on this path for now.
And then it was that the door-chime sounded. "Open." he commanded -- and turned to see who else could not find sleep... and was surprised to find the slim figure of Rebecca Anderson standing there. "Ah... Na'lai. How can I help you?"
"Actually, Veyshahk -- shouldn't that be the other way around? You've just lost your entire crew -- and there's no way in Hell we're going to replace those you've lost... not this quickly. That may change in time, of course -- if they don't return -- but damn it, I didn't come here to talk about that... anything but that."
"Agreed -- but they will return." Veyshahk assured her. "However, I do appreciate your intent. To begin with, if you do not mind me asking..."
"Why I can't sleep?" Anderson's expression sobered. "The rest of the crew, and even Nathan, don't like to talk about it -- but I guess I can tell you. It's that *thing*... that virus -- I can't help but get the feeling it's watching our every move. And every once in a while... I find myself worrying that no matter what we do, no matter what the crew of the *Excalibur does... nothing any of us do is going to make a difference. How many humans has it killed already? And how... how many more are going to die before we find the cure... if we find the cure?"
"And so you worry -- and cannot find rest. An understandable malady."
"And what would your prognosis be... Doctor?"
"That we do, indeed... have a great deal to talk about. And that, for a time, we should find a way to set our problems aside. This, I fear, is the only way we will find rest."
Anderson smiled. "Sounds like good advice to me."
Veyshahk gestured her to a nearby seat. "Then let us begin our discourse."
* * *
Beyond the Rim, an ancient vessel hung nearly motionless in hyperspace, its hull flickering in tune with the dischordant flashes of the realm around it... thus making the entire vessel more or less invisible to *normal* sensors. This ability had kept the vessel's pilots alive during the war with Darkness -- and even now, in this new age of peace, the pilots were loath to change their ways.
But then, to their surprise, they observed the passage of another vessel through the place-between that sustained them, and their interest grew as they briefly sampled the taste of the livings minds within... for a great many of the entities appeared to be...
Human. Accompanied by those called Minbari, of course... and also -- the First One? The one-who-was-first reached out his will, and after a moment, those-who-served agreed with his assessment of the situation, as their craft silently turned on its long axis and moved off in pursuit. This vessel was a vessel of the Younger Races... but what were they doing here, beyond the Rim?
More specifically, of course, they recognized this craft as a Ranger vessel -- more advanced, of course, than the warships they had known, the craft their ally Westcastle had named 'White Stars' -- but they remembered the promises... they remembered the alliance that had been made, before their departure beyond the Rim with the Others. That the First One was involved implied that the Rangers might have arrived here by accident. And if that were the case...
Another moment passed, and then the one-who-was-first made another decision... and in due course, he willed himself to be heard. And when the reply came, he explained what he had learned, and asked...
What shall we do about this matter?
The elders communed for a time -- but then, an consensus was agreed upon -- and the answer he had been hoping for came to him.
We are coming, he was told -- we are coming, and shall give aid to those who are in need. We remember the promise, and the alliance.
And with those assurances did he order his crew to follow the Ranger vessel -- for one never knew who *else* might be lurking out here -- watching and waiting.
* * *
The *Shard*'s dining hall -- 07:40 hrs.
"Okay, Renly," Elizabeth Trent muttered, as she sat down next to her colleague to eat breakfast, "I know you're not happy -- what I want to know is..."
"What are you going to do about it?" Renly Moreau shot back. "Gimme a break, Doc -- things may be status quo for the time being, but don't forget those Craneori things are still living in the walls of this ship. The presence of that ancient whass-his-name notwithstanding, they can take over the ship again any time they want to, especially if they don't get what they want! What happens if we don't find their damn creators? What are they going to do, trap us out here beyond the Rim until we're old and grey?"
"So that's your problem -- you've always hated not being in charge of things, haven't you?"
"Not quite." Moreau disagreed. "What I hate is not being able to do something, anything, to help solve this situation. We let the genie out of the bottle... now we have to find a way to get those damn things off of this ship... or something like that, anyways."
"Oh, I *see*. Tell you what, Renly, why don't we wait to try the impossible things until after we're done with breakfast, okay?"
Moreau winced. "Ouch -- suppose I deserved that -- but I'm glad you see where I'm coming from on this. And you know what's worse? -- because we're not Rangers, and they see us being the ones responsible for starting this whole mess in the first place..."
"They're not going to want to give us anything to do, for fear we'll screw up again."
He nodded. "Well, then..." Trent replied, a crafty smile coming onto her face, "I guess we'll just have to prove them wrong... won't we?"
* * *
Z'shailyl scout-vessel *Ln`trac* -- on patrol. 08:20 hrs.
"What is this you are telling me?" Aazhvar the Z'shailyl exclaimed, as his most trusted servant Viknahz waited patiently beside his Que'zhail's chair-of-command. "A rumour, you have heard, that the vessel our master names 'adversary' has vanished... presumed destroyed." Aazhvar bared his teeth in pleasure... if this was true, Palakz would be most pleased -- and in turn, perhaps his Vekh'shivalht might yet conduct a successful strike against the daggership the humans named *Excalibur*. And yet... "How did this... rumour come to your ears?"
"As you no doubt know," Viknahz carefully replied, "Our masters have, from time to time, worked to place *spies* within the Interstellar Alliance who will report back on those matters the Vekh'shivalhtai and Sha'drakh find interesting." Aazhvar, of course, did not need to have this explained to him -- he had witnessed, first hand, Palakz's capture of the Centauri spy named Islane Refa -- and as a result, nodded irritably and gestured his Favored Claw to continue. "What many among our people do not realize, however, is that the Drakh appear to have placed spies within the Anla'shok as well."
Aazhvar's eyes widened -- *most* interesting news, this was. "I have, in recent days, acquired leads into this network -- and one such report seems to indicate that the vessel named *Shard of Night*, the vessel our master previously named Adversary -- was... possessed in some way, and vanished through a unknown, ancient-portal -- the Anla'shok appear most concerned about this, and their movements in the past few days indicate this concern continues unabated. This, as you no doubt realize, Que'zhail, leaves the daggership undefended."
"Yesss..." he muttered, his eyes beginning to glint craftily, "That does appear to be the case, does it not? Very well, Viknahz -- send out the call to reunite our hand of daggers. We will conduct a probe to test the defences surrounding the daggership. If the Rangers commanding the *Shard of Night* come to do battle with us, as they have in the past... we will know that the rumour was false. But if not..."
If not, then a call he would send to Palakz. A call that would, no doubt, set certain... other plans in motion.
* * *
The system was very old -- its primary, a dying red giant star more than a hundred million kilometres across -- among the greatest stars in the globular cluster. In due course, the star would, no doubt, cast off its outer layers and contract into a brilliant white dwarf -- but that time was not yet. For now, worlds still swung around the red star, illuminated by its glare... and also a mighty belt of asteroids, orbiting less than ten million kilometres above the tenuous photosphere -- a belt now teeming with life.
Of a sort.
Those who held mastery over the other life forms in the belt had only just finished work on something which, while it was only an echo of the place they had once resided in -- a place where so many of them had died -- was now almost all this part of their race had, here in the places beyond. It was a lonely existence -- but they had come to accept it. The Ancient One would not have it any other way.
And then it was that something... interesting happened -- a thing which had not occured often of late. Those who ruled the rest from the greatest spires of their new city of darkness and light raised their talons high and cried out their welcome as one of their living ships-of-night shimmered into being in the uppermost reaches of the dwelling cavern before beginning its descent... almost in silence. Those who ruled found this remarkable... and desired answers from those-who-patrolled -- answers which arrived shortly thereafter as a travelling bubble broke away from the ship-of-patrol and descended to meet them. A bubble which shortly thereafter disgorged two more of their kind.
[[You return most swiftly]], the eldest-of-council, one of their race who named himself Zhe'chal, observed. [[Explain to us your need for swiftness, you will, in this age of change and atonement]].
Swiftness, of course, was something Zhe'chal had learned the importance of first hand, when the human nexus named... Sheridan had destroyed what-had-been before the time of changes had come upon them all. Zhe'chal had been one of few elders to escape from that place as it had been destroyed.
[[It shall be as you say, Great One]], the bonded-pilot replied after a moment. [[A disturbance in the fabric of things, we have detected -- a ship of the younger races has passed through the portal of Khazakh and now comes this way -- a vessel powered by the technology of the ancient opponents.
The vessel resembles that which destroyed our ancient home.]] the bonded one darkly added, a moment later. [[Crewed it is, by humans, Minbari... and others.]]
[[Anla'shok]] the bonded one's colleague suggested.
Zhe'chal reared back on his hind limbs, his eyes flaring red with displeasure. [[What is this they have done?]] the elder cried out, as all around him, the lesser circles screamed their own comments and thoughts of anger. [[There shall be a *reckoning* if they have broken the covenant of the ancient one in coming to this place]]
[[So it was agreed, yes]] a lesser elder replied, as the strident sounds of anger faded away. [[Perhaps we should send an emissary to confront this vessel]]
[[An emissary, you say?]] were Zhe'chal's next words. [[No.]]
Silence fell.
[[I will go *myself*]]
* * *
The *Shard of Night* -- main bridge. 09:37 hrs, EST.
"Would you like to try and run that by me again?" Julia managed, "More slowly, this time?"
Klairika took a deep breath, and turned fully to face her captain -- the short rest her Val'na had... indulged in after her discussion with the First One some hours before did not appear to have helped much. "You heard correctly -- a short time ago, Larieken and Sheynell detected something coming our way in hyperspace. Something... sizable."
"And how do you define..."
"Almost certainly larger then Babylon 5." Larieken interjected, his expression grim as his fingers danced over the controls on his station board. "I am attempting to gain some sense of the object's appearance -- ah... there we are. Two members of our sensor network now appear to be within range -- stand by..."
And then, even Larieken fell silent as an image shimmered into being in front of them -- an image that showed... another shadow of the past -- an enormous, fragile seeming construct resembling nothing more than a three dimensional snowflake -- although the largest 'branches' of that snowflake were many thousands of feet in diameter. Julia drew in a sharp breath -- she recognized this object from the stories that William had told her, late one night on Babylon 5 just after the Shadow War had finished -- but she'd never expected to see one of these things first hand. "A place of power..." she managed, "A stronghold of the hidden."
"You understand, then." Lorien said, as he glided forth to stand at her side. "They remember the promise that was made to your kind, so long ago -- and now, they come to see why you are here... and if they can give aid."
"Val'na..." Klairika carefully asked, "This object... you recognize it. How?"
"Because," Julia finally replied, "Our High Councillor made an Alliance with the masters of that place even as the Shadow War was kicking into high gear. These creatures live in hyperspace -- may, in fact, have even come through from *Thirdspace* at some point in the distant past. They helped us where and when they could -- and now, they've joined the rest of the First Ones, here beyond the Rim."
"These... allies," Sheynell inquired, "Do they have a name?"
"They do indeed." Julia allowed. "They call themselves...
The Cha'hal'zhamon."
* * *
To be continued...
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