I remember the mistake that was made -- if not some of the details. I remember watching then-Commander Ivanova and her fighter pilots drag that doorway to Hell out of the Epsilon system jump gate. I remember the madness that consumed me, of the creatures from Thirdspace who pried open my defences, who used the loneliness of the girl I used to be against me.
I remember the name of the scientist who was responsible for visiting so much pain upon us all... and also the name of her company. Dr. Elizabeth Trent, of Interplanetary Expeditions. We all hoped she had learned her lesson from the Thirdspace crisis -- that in her profession, it's better to look before you leap. Unfortunately for everyone involved, however, we were about to learn that lesson had not nearly been harsh enough -- for another of Dr. Trent's great flaws was that she was prone to delusions of grandeur.
It has been said that 'those who do not learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them'. The circumstances would not be the same, this time around -- but just the same, another mistake was about to be made. A mistake that was about to place me and my crew in terrible, *terrible* danger.
* * *
Neilgeitha Prime -- northern continent. Mid-morning, local time. July 30th, 2267, Earth Reckoning.
An icy wind ran between the spires of a city built when the creatures mankind named 'dinosaurs' had roamed their world -- a world now doomed to extinction, Dr. Elizabeth Trent resolutely reminded herself, unless someone, be it the Rangers, the crew of Matthew Gideon's 'Excalibur'... or her, for that matter, found a cure to the Drakh plague. Trent looked up at the massive spire in front of her, and shivered -- this place was giving her that *feeling* again -- of a big strike in the making.
"You're smiling again, 'Liz." Dr. Renly Moreau commented from his position on a small ledge thirty feet up the side of the spire. "Should I be worried?" Trent sighed -- Moreau had been her assistant for almost a year now -- young, brilliant, his chin seemingly perpetually bristled no matter how often he shaved. And most importantly -- he knew when to say 'no' to one of her ideas -- and to make that decision stick.
Trent's expression sobered, then -- as she thought back on what had happened at Babylon 5, six years before. Of how the creatures on the other side of that 'gate' that Ivanova had found in hyperspace had influenced her to the point where she'd... where she'd killed Bill Morishi. Of how those self-same creatures had then come through -- and how Sheridan and the rest had managed only by the skin of their teeth to turn back the apocalyptic invasion force that had followed them through the gate.
A gate that Sheridan had later destroyed from the inside out, to prevent Babylon 5 from being destroyed.
For a long time, she hadn't believed she would be able to do this again -- to go out on the Rim and look for artifacts -- to do the only job she was *truly* good at. She'd made up her mind a long time ago that she wouldn't ever work for Interplanetary Expeditions again -- a corporation where profit almost always came before common sense -- and without IPX to pay the bills, it was pretty difficult (translation, prohibitively expensive) to get out on the Rim, where the really good digs were. But then, the Drakh had attacked Earth -- and Trent, who'd been lucky enough to be on Proxima III at the time -- had jumped at the chance when the ISA had called, looking for archeologists and analysts to help with the search for the cure
And now, here she was -- on a planet where Ancients had once walked -- in a city old before the human race had even come down from the trees -- and this spire -- this ancient tower was the *key*. "Worried, Renly?" she retorted. "No, you should be excited, instead -- the Interstellar Alliance sent us out here looking for a cure to the Drakh Plague -- and I just know that there's something in this tower that's going to help us with finding that cure. Just think... if we were to come back with the cure for the plague... we'd be famous!"
Moreau snorted. "And how likely is *that*, 'Liz? Gideon and his crew, as well as almost the entire White Star Fleet, have been combing thorugh the Rimworlds looking for a cure since January -- and so far, no one, not one of them!... has come close. What if there isn't a cure to this damn plague? What if the Shadows took the cure with them when they went beyond the Rim at the end of the War? What then?"
"I... won't be a party to that sort of attitude, Moreau." she shot back, as the other archeologist lowered a line, clipped it in to the small winch at his side, and proceeded to haul her up on to the ledge. "The cure exists -- we just have to find it. And if it's here -- we *will* find it -- we'll be the ones, you'll see!"
"Right. Now, about this spire..."
"Our sensor scans show it's hollow inside -- and that there's some kind of power source about five hundred meters in. We know from the artifacts we've found elsewhere on Neilgeitha Prime that the race that used to live here was fond of using nanonic tech on a regular basis..."
"And the virus, of course, is nanonic in nature..." Moreau darkly muttered. "Yeah, I know, you don't have to give me the lecture again." The archeologist stepped off the ledge, and as Trent followed, proceeded down the dusty corridor beyond, to where the rest of their team was busily chiseling away at the massive slab that was blocking further ingress. "If we can bring some nano-tech back from this place that's not immediately going to try and kill us, maybe we can learn how to use it ourselves to fight off the virus. Hell, maybe we can even engineer our own counter-virus from what we find here..."
"But first, we have to get inside."
So intent were they on the problem at hand, that neither of the archeologists noticed the brief shimmer of light that passed down the wall above them -- a glow that paused for a moment, as if to observe what was going on -- and then moved on, seemingly satisfied with the progress being made.
And what no one in the party knew, of course, was that the slab in front of them was the front door to a prison installed by the Shadows and their minions more than a hundred thousand years before...
And that the billions of tiny lifeforms inside the prison wanted out -- in a big way.
* * *
Interstellar Alliance Space Station Babylon 5 -- Central Corridor, Ranger Compound. 08:45 hrs, EST.
The years had passed, but the sounds, the very *feel* of this place she loved so much -- that had not changed in the slightest. Julia smiled and closed her eyes as she leant on the side of the skybridge -- and remembered a time more than seven years before, when she'd waited in this very same spot to see if William and Jennifer would let her join up with the Rangers. So *much* had happened since then -- worlds and people had died, while others had lived -- but Babylon 5 remained.
"Hey, kid -- how's it going?" Julia's eyes snapped open, and she turned away from her contemplation to face the equally dark-haired woman standing in the middle of the skybridge. "People have been telling me you've gone up in the world... Val'na."
"As you have as well... Sha'vei Pratchett."
Jamie Pratchett winced. "I still find myself turning to look for Tashann and Shival when people call me that, from time to time. I never believed the day would come when the High Council would give me that title -- but that was before the Drakh attacked Earth and Westcastle and Shival started this major mobilization and buildup of forces, now wasn't it?
A mobilization that started, of course, with the launch of your *Shard of Night*." the older Ranger concluded. "A White Star battlecruiser -- now that blew me out of the water when I first heard about it -- so where's she parked?"
"Just off the Euphrates jump beacon," Julia explained, "And far enough down the incline that no one coming into the system will see it -- not that anyone could in any case..."
"Since your ship's stealthmode is fully operational." Pratchett grinned, then. "That's one Hell of a toy the President gave to you to play with -- have to admit, though, I've liked the nasty shocks you've been giving the Drakh in the last few months... think you can keep it up?"
"That's the idea." Julia assured the other Ranger. "For now, however -- may I assume that Sha'vei Lanniel and Councillor Lerenn are ready to begin the commander's conference?"
"The kid gets a bonus point for quick thinking." Pratchett motioned in the direction of the nearby council chamber. "Shall we go?"
"After you."
* * *
"It is well to see so many of you here," Councillor Lerenn allowed, as the gathered might of the White Star captains standing below the dias, most of which had been out on the Rim for more than six months now, waited to see what he had to say to them. "And regrettable that you and your crews have been out on the search for so long without a rest. But we are Anla'shok, and our Entil'zha has summoned us to duty, a duty we cannot lay down until the cure for the peoples of Earth is found."
Lerenn smiled then, however. "I have not, however, called you here this day to give a 'pep talk' as Sha'vei Pratchett would say. I have some good news to pass on -- and also some that you may find surprising.
Firstly," the Minbari began, as he turned to face Lanniel, "I must deal with the matter of your commander. As of two standard days ago, Sha'vei Tashann was summoned to headquarters in Tuzanor to be briefed by the President and Entil'zha Delenn -- at that time, he chose to stand down from his position to take on another task, and shortly thereafter, Sha'vei Lanniel was promoted into his place, as commander of the White Star Fleet." A great muttering passed through the ranks at this revelation, and Lerenn raised his hands high. "Fear not!... this does not mean what you think it does -- Lanniel, would you be so kind as to continue?"
"Councillor." The tall, fair faced warrior stepped forward to the dias at that point, her expression grave... but Julia noted just the slightest twinkle in her glacial cold eyes -- and tried not to laugh. Here it came... "As all of you are aware, with the destruction of the special projects shipyard just after the Drakh assault at Earth, further construction of Victory-class destroyers will not be possible for the forseeable future. As a result, the Anla'shok High Council, after consultation with the President, approached the Worker Caste with a very specific proposal. Simultaneous to this proposal, the Sech'shaa'li in Tuzanor have begun intensifying their search for new trainees to swell our ranks..."
"Sha'vei!" one of the old guard Ranger captains from the Shadow War days exclaimed, "Do you mean to say that..."
"Our tasks are numerous and difficult at present, Durann." Lanniel replied, her smile enigmatic. "We hunt for the cure to the plague afflicting the humans -- we must deal with continued Drakh incursions into Alliance territory as that search continues... *and* we must also guard the Alliance against other enemies, even as we wait for further shipyards to be built... and further Victory-class warships, so that the 'Excalibur' may, one day, not fly alone. We are stretched thinly, Val'nae!" the former Storm Dancer suddenly exclaimed, "And this has been deemed intolerable -- the request has been made... and the Worker Caste has said...
Yes."
Julia laughed -- and then promptly shuddered, as Lanniel turned a flinty stare in her direction. "You find something amusing in my words, Val'na Tikopai?"
"Forgive me, Sha'vei... but this is all *so* surprising, and so sudden -- the Worker Caste has from time to time built further White Stars to replace those that had been lost in battle, but this!..." This was something else entirely -- something remarkable. A sign of the times. "They're finally going to build us another White Star Fleet, aren't they?"
Consternation erupted amongst the captains at those words -- but finally Lanniel's glare softened -- and a thin, proud smile appeared on her face.
"They are... indeed."
* * *
[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.
* * *
Coming soon: Act I of Episode 12: "What Lies Hidden"
* * *
Return to "The Seeker's Fire" Episode Index