[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.]
S T A R A N D C I R C L E
"T H E S E E K E R' S F I R E"
* * *
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, 1997-99.
* * *
<<OVERTURE>>
March 8, 2267.
This far out on the Rim, as darkness fell each evening, the sky could be divided into unequal portions of darkness and light. Centuries before, a man of Earth had called a world just like this one 'Terminus', and in his writings, had tried to do justice to how the galaxy would appear from such a place. Of course, the truth of things had not been known then... how the billion-fold stars of the galaxy that humans named the Milky Way could blaze in all their glory from the viewpoint of this dead world, orbiting the galactic core more then thirty degrees above the plane of the great whirling system.
Empires had waxed and waned as the world had walked its way around that galactic core. And while there *was* an ancient-tech jump gate in the system, the former inhabitants of the planet had not believed in defiling the Passage Between Places with *that* mechanical construct. They had instead come and gone as they pleased...drifting between the phases like ghosts. And finally, feeling the call as all did, after the battle that the humans had named Corianna VI... the battle that had ended the last of the Shadow Wars, they had gone beyond the Rim to follow the First One, obeying his call.
And now, their world walked alone... alone with its dusty memories and deadly secrets.
Secrets of any kind had always been dangerous... secrets tended to draw attention, and had. But out of all the expeditions that had come to this place over the millenia, only one had ever returned to known space... a terrified Centauri crew who had subsequently labelled the world, in accordance with their own gods, religions and beliefs, in the following way.
Amaranth; the world of the whispering dead. A monument to a God best forgotten; a place to avoid at all costs. A place that seemed to kill any who approached it.
A place of secrets that could never be solved.
Unfortunately, there were always those who didn't believe this was true; who believed that there was no secret that couldn't be solved, and whose need to find answers to their own problems caused them to throw caution to the wind.
History was about to be repeated, as far above the surface of a world named Death, space crackled, tore, and then opened up into the blue radiance of a jump point. And out of this passage sprang a ship that could not be seen by any technology known to the Interstellar Alliance.
The machines of Amaranth, of course, noticed the ship's arrival almost immediately. And began preparations to receive their newest visitors.
Their latest sacrifices.
* * *
"From all that we've heard about this planet," Julia began, as she stepped onto the bridge of her command, Klairika at her side, "Some would say we'd have to be crazy to want to attempt this."
"But the question is," the Brakiri Ranger replied, a frown on her face, "Do any of the dark myths and tales of terror that surround Amaranth actually have a basis in the truth?"
"That is a very good question, indeed." Larieken dryly noted, as he turned away from his station to face his commanders. "A question that we do not, as of yet, have answers for. There is only the name, and the meaning behind that name. This place is the world of the Dead, according to the Centauri at least.
"But why," she mused, as she took her seat at the center of the bridge, "Would they give it that name, of all the names they could have chosen?"
Larieken sighed. "Unknown. However, the fact that there are a number of empty ships orbiting the planet should give us reason to carefully consider our next move, here."
"How many?"
"Over two hundred." Sheynell replied from the weapons station, her eyes deeply concerned beneath her ash-blonde bangs. "They're all cold and inert... and some of them are fairly close to falling into the atmosphere. There's a few familiar designs, but also many that don't seem to belong to any of the races in our part of the galaxy."
"And no surface activity? Defenses of any kind?"
Sheynell shook her head. "This entire system seems to be dead as a doornail."
"And yet, those crews came here to Amaranth looking for something..." Julia replied to the bridge-at-large, as she absent-mindedly twined a lock of her dark hair between two fingers. "If this world's been empty since the First Ones left us, then what killed them?"
"If you intend to take teams down to the surface," Larieken added, after a moment, "And I know that you do, we learn that answer to *that* question soon, at least. But we must also be *very* careful; if something here bears ill will towards us, we may have to respond very quickly to such a threat, if any of us are to survive."
"Not to, how do you say it?... dampen the mood any further," Klairika darkly noted, as a sensors report shimmered into being in front of her, "But the whiskers have just detected a rather large set of structures on the far side of the planetary surface, that I believe may interest you."
"Show me!" she commanded, and rose to her feet, nevertheless, as an image of Amaranth's far side rippled into view in front of her. As far as she could see, the surface was covered with a matrix of identical buildings, angular, cold and black, beneath the orange light of Amaranth's sun.
Her breath caught in her lungs then, because, for all intents and purposes, the constructs in that labyrinth of night looked like...
Tombstones.
* * *
Yet again, it was time for them to discuss matters. And for these two Soul Hunters, the Fhedayar and Praetor Questus who had been commanded by their Primarch to follow and observe the Ranger warship named SHARD OF NIGHT, there was no need for preamble or introduction, so long had they served with one another.
"Again and again, we have tried to warn the others about this place." the Praetor Questus commented. "They never listen to us, of course; they do not trust us and never will. Indeed, it is true that most of them fear us because of what we do and who we are, regardless of the valiant attempt made by my brother at the human station named Babylon 5."
"They fear us, however, for the wrong reasons." the Fhedayar noted. "*Always* the wrong reasons."
The Praetor Questus took the point as moot. "And now, after so long, it has happened again, exactly as the Well said it would. It is inevitable that one of the new visitors will grow too curious; and then..."
"Inevitable." the Fhedayar agreed, his expression thunderous for his kind, but he was merely a youth, by their standards, having lived rather less then a human millenium, to date. "This is a dangerous thing, more dangerous by far then that which we observed occur at the world of the R'kaht. The Sha'naktoweire, bold with her successes, walks upon her path with impunity, not knowing that path is fraught with danger."
"Yes; a dangerous path, indeed. But that is the way it must be, as well you know, if what is to come to pass, will come to pass. We have our instructions from the Primarch, instructions we cannot ignore.
You shall aid me in this."
"It shall be as you say." the Fhedayar replied.
"Be warned, however, that we will not be able to conceal ourselves from them this time. Indeed, if all goes as I expect, we may even be called upon to save her from herself, with the aid of another.
"What other do you speak of?"
The Praetor Questus smiled mirthlessly, then. "The Fallen one; the one who has decided to aid the humans in their schemes for his own reasons. The one who presently resides aboard the greatest warship their kind has ever helped to build, a ship both cursed and blessed, at the same time.
A ship named...
EXCALIBUR."
* * *
Amaranth. The Labyrinth of Night. One hour later.
The bloody sun of this place rising behind her, Julia slowly approached the gigantic black wall of the 'tombstone' in front of her. It was an obsidian obelisk more then a mile long and wide, and over three miles high, high enough that the wispy clouds slowly drifting through the icy blue skies above were *below* its sharp-edged peak.
The breath caught in her lungs for a moment, and then shimmered out into the cold morning air, as she cast her gaze up the nearly featureless face of the thing. It was simply enormous, the largest built structure she had ever seen! And as Klairika had told her prior to their descent, there seemed to be thousands of them on this continent, alone... each seperated from the next by a distance exactly equal to its height.
She shivered, then, before drawing her long black field jacket more tightly around her shoulders, and turned to address Mikhail Breznev, one of the younger Rangers who'd been assigned by Larieken to 'guard' her while her Minbari protector was busy elsewhere. After all, she mentally added, a moment later, while the Entil'zha had long ago tasked Larieken with keeping her safe, he couldn't be at her side *all* the time, now could he? As if to prove the point, she'd sent him on to the obelisk immediately west of this one with a team of his own, to see if it actually was identical to hers, while Sheynell had done the same with the one to the north.
Meanwhile, the rest of the Rangers who looked to her were conducting a perimeter search, looking (perhaps in all futility) for an entrance. Her first officer, of course, was still up on the SHARD with the rest of the crew. Julia sighed, then; given the Brakiri's objections as she had prepared to make the descent, it seemed clear that her First had wanted it the other way around; a continuation of the argument they'd been conducting ever since the SHARD had left Minbar, two months before. Klairika had been overruled on that, however. Again. The curiousity to see what these things *were* had been too strong to be ignored.
Was this her Observer side, crying out to learn of things it knew not? She didn't know the answer to that question, but did it really matter? As Sheynell had pointed out on their arrival in orbit, there certainly didn't seem to be any activity down here; no movement, nothing but tens of thousands of these incredible black towers.
"So." she muttered, as Breznev approached across the smooth, stony surface of the enormous 'avenue' they stood on the edge of. "Mr. Breznev; when you joined the Rangers last year, did you expect that you'd be standing on a former homeworld of the First Ones, looking at something like this?"
The young Russian, barely out of his teens, snorted before shaking his head. "I will be honest with you, Captain. These things, they frighten me... more so even then what I was taught about the Shadows. The Dark Ones were, in the end, an understandable enemy. These things, however; they have no entrances, no exits, emit nothing and do nothing. And yet, your command stands among the most advanced in the galaxy, and our whisker network could not penetrate their surfaces.
This tells me much, Captain. And none of it is good."
She nodded...and then, as if drawn by a magnet, slowly walked towards the surface of the obelisk, Breznev close behind. On closer inspection, the featureless face of the construct began to resolve into a multitude of decagonal polygons, and if one looked at those at the right angle, one could see reflected the slowly drifting clouds in the skies above...
"Captain!" Alexov called out behind her, his voice full of alarm, as a bronze flare of light appeared in the obelisk's black walls. "Look!"
Julia whirled, and in a perfect world, she would have been more careful. But that was not to be, this day, as her errant left hand fell full upon the surface of the obelisk, and a eldritch shock not of this world passed through her, head to toe...
* * *
The SHARD OF NIGHT. Moments later.
"Battle stations!" Klairika exclaimed, as the bridge crew sprang into action. The command had come from her lips almost instinctively, as a thin, possibly dangerous beam of energy had energed from an obelisk over the horizon from the landing team positions. It hadn't even come close to the SHARD, of course...but out here on the Rim, it was best to be careful. And as she had already learned first hand, it was sometimes necessary to shoot first, and ask questions later.
"Our tactical status is *green*." Warren Holm informed her, his voice level and sharp as always, his stance indicating his readiness to engage any foe that appeared. "The beam wasn't directed at us, Na'lai, or at any of our whiskers. In fact, it now seems to be dissipating quite rapidly."
Then what had been the point? "Dasouri." Klairika began, turning towards the helm, "Direct us into an orbit as far away from those obelisks as possible." The Drazi curtly nodded, and even as the SHARD canted out of its current orbit, she turned her attention towards the next objective... making sure that nothing had happened to the teams that were currently down on the surface. "This is the SHARD to explorer groups: if you are able, please respond!"
"This is Anla'shok Larieken to Command; our status is nominal." came the first reply.
"This is Anla'shok Keynes, likewise." Sheynell reported a moment later. "Na'lai Alidiae. If I may inquire?...
"Not *right* now, Tactical!" she all but barked. "Val'na Tikopai. Are you there?"
A moment passed, and then, a signal came...a message that she *didn't* want to hear. "This is Anla'shok Breznev to SHARD OF NIGHT. We have a problem, I'm afraid.
A rather *serious* one."
* * *
The SHARD. *A* SHARD. Another time. Another place.
"...Tha'ssele? Alyt Tha'ssele Tikopai, wake up!"
Julia fuzzily arose towards consciousness, to find a hologram of Larieken looking critically down at her. What... what was this? The last memory she had was being down on Amaranth, brushing against the surface of that obelisk, and now, somehow, she was back on the SHARD. What in Valen's Name had happened? "Larieken?"
"Larieken?" the Minbari critically noted. "It's a good job, Alyt Tikopai, that the rest of the bridge crew isn't looking over my shoulder. Even in times of rest, I will remind you gently, *if* firmly... and only because we are close comrades, that aboard an Alliance ship of the line, one must always refer to one's command staff by their proper rank! In this case, Pa'trakar, as well you know. But beyond that matter, I have a message for you."
At that point, the whole situation began to sink in. Something *definitely* wasn't right, here; the ranks that Larieken had just referred to... what were they? And then, she stiffened, as she finally got a good look at the uniform that he was wearing.
And what it wasn't.
"Your message, Pa'trakar Larieken?"
"We have received a communique from the Earth-sect Warlock Class Destroyer ENCHANTRESS, Alyt Tikopai; Sha'var Alyt Sheridan's flagship, as I'm sure you're aware. He and his battle group will be drawing alongside within fifteen standard minutes; a situation has arisen that requires our immediate attention. Ready yourself."
The signal abruptly cut at that point, and she rose to her feet, still trying to figure out what was going on. Julia paused in front of the mirror, and then, things got a whole lot worse...as the image cast in that mirror seemed to shake its head, and laughed a mocking laugh that only she could hear.
<Well, well. The Shadowman warned me that this would happen, and it has. Welcome to my world, my better and weaker self. I've been waiting for your arrival for some time now.>
<Who are you?> she cried out, trying desperately to turn away from the mirror, and not succeeding in the slightest. For all intents and purposes, it appeared she'd lost control of her body to this other... self? <Where am I?>
The mirror-Julia raised an eyebrow ironically, her smile malicious.
<In Hell, of course, my dear, *dear* sister. And I? It would appear that I am the gatekeeper.>
* * *
In the ruins of a dead world, a Ranger hung onto the side of an obelisk, her eyes closed, her breathing slow but steady, while her followers stood nearby, their indecision plain. They could not see the whole picture as he could; could not see how shimmers of light and dark were now crossing the face of that construct, converging upon the outstretched hand of that Ranger. They did not know what it meant. The Technomage named Galen gazed upon the image of the Ranger's knelt figure, and allowed his expression to darken into a scowl. He knew exactly it meant, of course, and none of it was good.
"You were warned," he whispered. "You chose to ignore that warning, and that message, and through your own carelessness, you have opened a door that should have stayed closed for all time. You have stepped through that door into a place you know not, and now, it appears that I and the others must act to save you from yourself, before it is too late."
His face stony, the decision made, Galen made his way out of his ship, and down the corridors of the EXCALIBUR. This was a bad time to leave, but there was no choice in the matter. The final pattern of interaction between the EXCALIBUR's crew and their secret protector, a protector that only he knew about out of all the crew, had yet to form. It would not do for the commander of the SHARD OF NIGHT to be lost at this point. The opening moves had barely been concluded, after all.
And the door? The door would have to be closed, and this time, there could be no mistakes, and no hesitation. The door would have to be closed, and the key to that door shattered.
While young Tikopai, the brilliant yet flawed commander of a warship that was, for now at least, one of a kind, might yet be saved if he acted quickly. Galen's mouth quirked into an ironic smile, then; he would save her, if only to see what would result when she and Matthew Gideon finally encountered one another. The resulting verbal fireworks might actually turn out to be quite... entertaining.
But that was for the future, and the future was never set in stone. For now, the present situation required that he say his farewells to Matthew and the others, and then...
"And then," Galen added out loud, "We shall have to see what happens, now won't we?"