"Homecoming" Series
Set during Season One of Crusade, but there's no spoilers (I think - hadn't seen a single episode yet at time of writing) since it's focused on a different crew than the group on Crusade. The story takes place in an alternate universe, which branched from the canon version during "Phoenix Rising", but is mostly set in a place I'm sure 95% of the B5 loving public out there would love to see. Read on for details. :)
I can't write battles very well, ditto for technobabble. Advice/suggestions welcome on that stuff. :) I'm a description writer. I try to do images in words. Send me questions, comments, ideas, potential scenes you'd like to see, flames, praise, and Minbari Gray Council members with European accents to h_raelynn@hotmail.com :) I love feedback!
All things and people invented by jms belong to him. He can have them back whenever he wants (but why the great maker would be reading my sad little offerings, I have no idea). Original characters and settings are my own, if you want to use them, just ask nice and I'll say yes. :)
Final warning: I bounced the idea for this off a local friend. Her only comment was "You're a sadist! When can I read it?" Beware of twisted ideas. . . I get really mean in a while!
[indicates thoughts]
*emphasis*
PG - 13 . . . let the games begin!
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**BOOM**
[I may live to fight, but unless something fragging drastic happens really, really soon, my passion will get me killed. And my crew killed, and my ship too. No one will be left to mourn. Typical.]
The Earthforce ship 'Sophocles' was in a firefight in hyperspace, and not a very fair fight at that. The heavily damaged war cruiser was several weeks away from the closest EA outpost, and its Captain had resigned herself to the fate of dying long before another friendly ship would be able to appear. Her main priority was now inflicting as much damage on the enemy as possible before the grim reaper claimed her. At the start, they had been outnumbered 7 to 1 by Drakh warships, but in the time since then, her determined crew had put up a hell of a fight. They had taken out 3 ships already, but at heavy cost to the side of Earth.
To a detached observer the fight would have been very pretty, with all the exploding colours, but right there and then everyone was involved in the crisp business of staying alive. Before the stellarcom had been jammed, they'd had time to confirm that there wasn't another Earthforce or Alliance ship within call range, so they were very much on their own. Every EA and Drakh fighter was out shooting, or had been shot down already. Through the smoke and confusion, she saw a dimmed console flicker and change. An updated status report said the fires on two decks had now spread to three decks; none of the breaching pods had managed to attach and board yet; and the ship's outer hulls had finally been pierced by weapons fire in several places, decompressing and killing the crew in those areas. It listed power relays that were destroyed and weapons that were exhausted or too damaged to use further; that list was extensive and getting larger every minute. The biggest concern was from the engine compartments, where the Drakh were concentrating their shots to cripple the Sophocles further. Their first shots had been aimed at disabling the war cruiser's jump engines, preventing them from leaving hyperspace's additional dangers. It had been most of an hour already; but the wrathful, pitiless aliens hadn't totally destroyed them. They seemed to want the warship captured rather than destroyed, but the Captain did not intend to lose her command.
On the bridge, the Captain gave orders when needed, and helped the injured into medical custody when not. "I hate it when the opposite team doesn't play fair," she muttered to herself. Her sharp eyes, set in a face peppered with scars, were fixed on the main viewscreen as she tried to see the designs painted on the three remaining thunderbolt-type starfuries, hoping to find one in particular still intact. [Where is? There! Good, he's-] and her universe stopped.
A single, long, sweeping beam of energy had flung itself across her sight, catching one thunderbolt square-on and exploding it before the beam swung over to catch an engine on the second. The Captain's heart dropped to the level of her knees as this second thunderbolt spun out of control for maybe nine tenths of a second before the explosion spread to include the cockpit and other engines.
She stood in silence for a moment, in shock. Then she swore fluently in Narn and again concentrated on getting her ship out of this in one piece. [You can't get revenge by dying.] Around her, the bridge kept shaking as the ship continued to be hit, but she didn't notice the movement. The crew was calling orders and locations as they tried to continue the counterattack and keep the ship functional, and the injured were moaning as the medic teams tended to them and moved them out, but she didn't notice the noise. The computer stations that were broken or shorted out flickered and sparked in the dim light, but all she saw were shades of red as a film of blood covered her reality and her slow-burning rage peaked just a little higher.
She came back to her mind as an excited voice yelled that another cruiser had been destroyed and two more looked to be in various stages of crippled, but there was no time for cheering.
"Captain!" Someone called through the smoke and noise. "The jump engines have been hit again, there's no response from the repair teams. I think we've lost them - the engines and the teams both."
"Communications?" She asked.
Her second in command answered for the injured man, as he eased him out of the chair towards the medics. "We're still being jammed on stellarcom, and we can't last the battle long enough to get to a jumpgate, even if we could destroy the last 3 Drakh ships, so we seem to be dead either way. I just hope we can take as many of the damned bastards with us as possible!"
"Like hell, Carlson!" the Captain said, wiping blood out of her eyes. [What the - ow! Dammit.] A large gash had been added to her forehead and all the blood being spilled was interfering with her vision. "We're not dead yet, and I don't plan on changing that status any time soon! As long as we can shoot, we shoot! The Drakh are all supposed to be dead, so let's send these to meet their cousins! Keep firing, and keep the maneuvering jets on full! We can't outrun the bastards but we can still keep a lock on the beacon's signal! Don't let us drift any further!"
"Look, Captain, keeping track of the beacons won't mean much in a few minutes! If we don't open the engines to dump the build-up of power and radiation from the damaged reactors into space, they'll go critical and explode in less than 20 minutes. I remind you that the ship is several *hours* from the nearest jumpgate!" He jabbed a finger at a navigation console with the readout for the 2 closest hyperspace beacons in emphasis. "The engines are so far gone it would take weeks to repair them after the dump, but there's no way, time or place to evacuate the crew to avoid lethal doses of radiation, never mind the fact we're in rather hostile territory! We're finished! Give the self-destruct order and hope we take some of them with us in the blast!"
His superior hadn't heard the last bit. She had frozen at the sight of the beacon numbers. "Carlson, is this sequence accurate? These are the closest transfer points and this *IS* where we are in comparison?"
"Yes, but why?"
He repeated the question as she moved to a console - it took a few seconds to find one still working - and punched up a set of co-ordinates from memory. "Navigation! How fast can you get us to this place?"
A private at semi-burned out console looked at his display. "One, maybe two minutes, but it's way off the beacons! Why?"
"Do it!"
Carlson, puzzled at his commanding officers behaviour, asked, "Planning on going someplace? There's nothing there!"
"Sirs, we just lost the last 'fury."
"There's a gate there, it just doesn't have a beacon! The people on the other side don't like guests but I'm sure they'd take an exception this one time! Pass us through those co-ordinates on the trajectory given! Do it! NOW!"
Carlson, wondering if she'd gone battle-mad, stood in front of her to get her attention, not an easy feat considering the violent heaving of the deck beneath their feet. "There *are* no gates without beacons! Where the hell do you plan to go?"
Shoving him out of the way, she shot back, "Sanctuary! Just GET US THERE! How long until we-" Her retort was cut short by an explosion by her side which threw her across the bridge and slammed her into the far wall along with two of her crew.
"The last of the weapons systems have been destroyed!" Someone yelled out the obvious. "We can't even defend ourselves anymore!"
From her undignified position against the junction of wall and floor, the Captain shook her head carefully, then moaned, "Thanks for the insight. Tell the crew to gather the injured and head for the lifepods, but *do* *not* eject until we've reached normal space! Get moving, get off the bridge before anything else blows up in your faces! I've got enough injured here already! Go!!"
[Damn,] She thought to herself, [I think my arm was just- AAAAGH! Damn! That hurts.] Wriggling her fingers, she stood and looked down the two who had been thrown with her. They didn't move. One's skull had opened on a corner of a console, the other's neck was at an angle it shouldn't have been. [I guess I was lucky. . . good or bad luck, though, if I'm wrong?] She spent a few moments in brief, intense prayer, and waited to find out the truth while moving to help the ones who survived the blast.
A few seconds later, the swirling orange and black of Hyperspace suddenly screamed into their minds; the air seemed to rip around them; and then the ship was suddenly surrounded by a bright red-white funnel, spreading off in both directions like the inside of a glowing tornado.
[I was right . . . hope this is *good* luck!] She thought grimly as she lifted a bleeding private out of his straps and laid him down on a stretcher to be carried to the pods.
The ship's shaking had become less violent, now it was more like being on a bumpy conveyer belt than in a Drakh punching bag. [We're were no longer being fired at], the Captain thought. The three remaining enemy ships were too busy trying to not shake apart to worry about shooting at the Sophocles. 12, maybe 15 seconds passed, then the Drakh ships shattered - not exploding into pieces as she watched on the monitor, but more of a dissolving into tiny fragments inside of a few seconds.
As soon as the enemy ships were gone the shaking on the Sophocles stopped, and they settled into a smooth ride for about 60 seconds. A welcome pause swept over the remaining bridge crew while everyone remembered how to breathe, carried the injured to the lifepods as ordered, and put out fires.
Bewildered, Carlson started to demand how she knew this - thing - was here when the navigation officer called out, "The sensors are picking up normal space ahead, 30 seconds until we reach it!"
"Make sure any systems still working are switched to standby and hold mode, Carlson. Navigation, there'll be an oxygen planet ahead of us: ensure the ship can get into a high orbit around it and then you run for the lifepods, understand? The reactor's radiation will have to be flooded from the ship in a few minutes, and I don't want to risk any of my crew glowing in the dark! I'll be with the last to leave to make sure everyone gets off." She swatted away the hand of medic who was trying to get her to hold still long enough to have her forehead cleaned and sealed up. "Scram, kid, I'm busy. You need to leave, all of you, GO!"
Carlson, however, stayed on the bridge and took over for the navigation officer who followed orders and moved off with the few remaining crewmembers. A few more moments, and the only other one there was the young female medic. The Captain was still trying to shoo her away even as the medic attempted to pass her scanner over the arm being clutched to the fearless leader's side. Said leader was pacing between displays and the main viewscreen, watching the lifesign count dropping as the crew left internal sensor range and watching the largish blue, green, brown, and white-shrouded world that they were nearing. The large sphere was framed by several other planetary bodies: moons, an asteroid belt, and what had to be a *huge* gas giant just near the left edge of the screen. [How pretty,] she thought to herself. The static-clouded viewscreen showed some of the lifepods coming into view as the pods' sensors picked up the habitable planet and started manoeuvring towards it, just like the damaged ship was limping towards its same target.
Carlson at the navigation seat broke the crackling silence. "We've reached a stable orbit; the ship will stay put even with the dump and without power. Twelve minutes until the reactors go critical. Engineering is reported as evacuated, just the Chief and his team left: he reports ready to pull the final kill switch."
"Do it," she ordered, and entered her own command codes required for the procedure. Then, "now RUN!"
The three headed for the closest remaining lifepod, climbing over fallen wall panels, loose wires that still sparked, leaking or broken pipes, cables, the occasional corpse, and snapped support struts. The trio was close enough to see the pod door when a falling beam slammed the Captain into the floor, but she managed to drag herself out, holding her injured arm to her side and cursing in a language neither of the others knew as she staggered to the pod with the other two's help and they ejected.
The medic managed to get the Captain to strap down properly in the zero-g of the pod, then tried again to look at the forehead gash to clean and repair it, but the Captain continued to push her off, insisting that she was fine. Getting frantic, the medic turned to the second in command for assistance.
He just stared at the Captain. "How the hell did you know about that - that tunnel in hyperspace, and that there would be an oxygen-bearing planet right on the other side?"
"It's a moon, actually, if the data screens were correct . . . you little *bastard*! You drugged me!" The last part was aimed along with a look of fury at the suddenly meek medic as the Captain noticed the patch stuck to the back of her hand.
The medic tried and failed to not wither under the scorching glare. She was terrified of her Captain, almost half the crew was. And they all, every single one, respected her tremendously. "C - Captain, there was no other way t-to get you to behave. Commander Carlson is unhurt and can take over playing God for a few minutes. It w-won't hurt you, just numb the pain so I c-can set your arm. Hold still, you'll need over a dozen sutures to close this! Your -um --left arm is broken, as you probably can tell yourself, and you'll need a blood transfusion - it looks like you've lost over a litre. Captain?"
Who had closed her eyes, frustrated etched into her features. "Just - do - it." Her voice was suddenly a great deal quieter than it had been, and she actually let the medic wipe off some of the blood smeared across her face.
"Watch her carefully, make sure she doesn't go into a coma, after that blow to the head," Carlson commented, getting an one-eyed glare from the person he'd just mentioned.
"I am, I - I will, and she's too mule-headed to go unconscious on us, right sir?" She was holding onto her own seat-straps by her ankles in the null-gravity as she set the inflicted limb properly and clicked an emergency brace onto it. When there was no answer coming, she hesitantly asked, "So - uh - what was that thing we went through, sir?"
"She's out cold now. I don't know . . . the scanners say over 90% of the ship's lifepods are with us, manoeuvring towards safe landing zones. And both shuttles are intact and moving, thank goodness for small miracles. Sensors are picking up over 1000 people . . . By god, we got almost everyone. I know most of the pilots are gone, but some should have lived - we didn’t have enough ‘furies left to let them all fly at once. Two thunderbolts we lost track of in the currents, the rest were destroyed in the fight - they're all gone, now. Private, a question."
"Sir?"
"What's your name?"
"Huh? Oh. Brandan, Private Rianna Brandan. Sir." The medic was placing suture bandages on the captain's forehead as she tried to hide her own fears, apparently unaware that she had begun to mutter to herself. "Try to get a sponsor with earthforce, my parents said. Do your internship on a cruiser. See the universe and finish your degree at the same time. Hah. 3 months in and this." The petite private suddenly noticed his raised eyebrows and blushed. "I'll do my best, sir. Any idea where we are?"
He answered while studying the little console display. "Not a clue. If it's any consolation, she handpicked the whole crew. This would include you. Only the best. You'll do fine, just keep your head screwed on straight and follow orders. Since the shuttles are with us, we'll be able to ferry the crew back in a few weeks or so to start making repairs if she doesn't need scuttling. We might have to physically return to set the charges, the self-destruct programs are probably wiped - we can just send the proper signal and code over the comms if not. I hope we can salvage her, though, return home - the Captain must have too, or else she would have set the charges already. She was supposed to, according to regs - we should *not* have left it there, but you heard her insist that it would be safe in orbit. Assuming the ship's autoguidance system still works. And if we can find all the crew after being scattered like this. There were no patrol ships or orbiting defence platforms, so we won't be shot out of the sky, at least. Ours will be a shorter trip than most of the others, staying on board longer meant we ejected closer to the atmosphere. Some of the pods will take hours or even a day to get into orbit and land, but if we're lucky they won't be too damaged from the attack."
"I guess it beats a certainly gruesome death. We're still alive. But that doesn't answer the qu-"
"I have no idea how she knew that - that we could get here. She rattled off a 50-plus digit sequence without batting an eye. She's got a good memory and all, but -" he paused as the pod trembled. "We're about to hit atmosphere. Strap yourself in tightly, this could be bumpy."
"She's gonna be totally pissed at me for putting that tab on her hand when she comes to in a few more minutes." The medic paused while the pod shook them violently against their straps. "Hopefully we'll have landed all right."
"I'll back up your story during the court-martial. Joke, kid, that was a joke. She'll know you were just following regs, I doubt she'd press charges. Just don't expect her to apologise or admit she's a mule-headed, cantankerous bitch at times."
Soon enough, Wham! The pod hit water and cut out it's manoeuvring jets. Private Brandan had started to look decidedly green by the time they bobbed back to the surface, but she quickly recovered and checked the console. "Scanners say we're on a big lake about half a klick from a shoreline. And two klicks north-north-east another pod splashed down a few seconds after us. Several pods are still coming down within sensor range. Their auto-navigation systems must have steered for water like ours did. Where's that inflatable raft supposed to be stored? Never mind, I found it."
"Help me crack the hatch first, Brandan."
"Huh? Oh. Right. Sorry, sir."
They got the hatch opened and the raft inflated before they helped a slightly groggy Captain climb out, then set off a flare to signal the closest pod. Its occupants were also climbing into a raft. One of them waved 'all ok' sign, which Carlson returned. "Follow the directions of the side of the console to detach it, private, we'll need to cannibalise whatever we can from the pod. Check the radiation levels on the medkit and food before taking them, though, we were still damned close when the reactors dumped. We might have caught a bit of it."
"Ok, sir."
They got to shore after a few minutes of learning how to paddle, and soon greeted four from the other pod. The four others were all from engineering and they helped rig the two consoles together, using the combined power packs and transmitters to boost the signal to start searching for other crew members. This pod had kept their supplies with them, but Carlson reassured a jumpy Brandan that the majority of the pods were well out of the danger zone in time, so they wouldn't be risking radiation poisoning.
Within an hour, there was a total of 32 gathered in the impromptu campsite by the lake. By the time the local sun had started to set, there were over 70, with more approaching the camp. The lake, apart from being large enough for the pods' sensors to pick up from orbit and aim for, was also a source of fresh water. The steady dripping sounds of water filters made tension levels drop slightly; even as everyone let the seriousness of their situation sink in. An unknown planet, in an unknown system far from any backup or support ships, with their own ship completely inaccessible; and no way to contact the rest of the universe to let them know where they were and what had happened. To complicate matters, several of the pods had reported seeing the lights that marked a civilisation on the night side before their pods had dropped for final descent. But none of the pods had seen or scanned any sign of inhabitants for a radius of several hundred kilometres near the lake.
The crew had soon tested for and found several edible plants nearby to supplement the scant emergency rations, and had managed to start a few small driftwood-fires on the beach for the extra warmth and light they needed. The wide stretch of gravel made it easier to set up the comms and other signals needed to contact everyone else. Most importantly, the camp was in a central location for gathering together. The boosted signal from the linked systems was under steady use as they contacted groups out of sight range, giving directions to the camp and advice to others farther away. They had located quite a few people already, and more were expected to be found as their pods came down. But, many of the pods would be just too far away to contact with the emergency comm units. The two shuttles were completely missing and many of the crew were injured. Two that had come right out of medlab during the evacuation had since died from their injuries, the shock of having been moved mid-surgery was just too great. They were being carried in on stretchers, to be buried closer to the main camp in a decent funeral service, as were a few others that had been put into the pods and brought down by crew that had been hopeful their friends were just hurt rather than dead, though the hours in since then the truth had made itself clear. Others that were seriously or critically injured looked to be joining them, fairly soon, as the few doctors that were nearby had no way to properly treat them.
The Captain was fully awake by the time the warm yellow sun set, still supervising through a slight haze of pain. She wouldn't admit to anyone (especially herself) that she felt too faint to walk, so she 'held court' seated on a fallen log, one of several grouped around one of the warm firepits newly dotting the gravel covered beach. She'd refused to take any of the few supplies of blood there was, and made others more injured receive transfusions in her stead.
"I've just got a cut on my face, leave it alone!" Came a snarl for the dozenth time.
The medical personnel had disagreed with her, but she'd already pulled rank to end the argument. "Look, when more supplies are available I'll take the blood. Not before. You can't get my broken arm to fuse without medlab's equipment, and I'm not looking forward to spending six weeks in a cast. I therefore *suggest* you stay out of my way." She did allow them to check and re-apply her splint before strapping her arm tightly to her side to keep it from moving.
"Apart from a great deal of bruising and your forehead, your worst injury is the break a few inches above your elbow, a clean snap. It will be easy to fix . . . when we get the right equipment." After delivering the news, the nurse scuttled away from the dangerously angry Captain. The beaten body and useless limb would have been bad enough on their own, but she was in an even worse mood from what happened to her command. She'd been a Captain for years, but was still on her first ship and hadn't had anything *this* bad happen to it until the overwhelming sneak attack.
Communication had been established with over 200 crew using a 'hopscotch' method. While the main camp could only call so far, the ones further out could call ones even further out, who could call more. The scattered ones were gathering into groups and trying to find paths to the center, where the Main Camp was. Directions were sketchy at best, but progress was being made. The Captain had ordered that with every new establishment of contact, a message be passed along: "Be nice to the locals, they'll only get violent if you do so first. We'll need their help to get home."
No one had the courage to ask what *that* meant, but they obeyed.
It had been a very long day, and the Captain was glad for a few minutes to just sit quietly by herself and look around. It was so fresh, so green and open here, a stark contrast to the gray narrow corridors of the Sophocles. She had leaned back against the log to stare up at the stars. A navigation officer had located their ship and had pointed out where people should look to see it orbiting, but she wasn't looking at that. She first watched a shooting star that turned out to be a falling pod appear and gradually splash down in the lake, returning her attention upwards again only when the radio said the occupants were fine and coming to shore. She was staring at the visible moons and the semi-distant gas giant. A faint Borealis was visible, as well, and about a trillion stars, thickly smeared across the darkness. The whole sky, though she'd never laid eyes on it before, seemed vaguely familiar to her. [I should have been a poet. How am I supposed to describe this in my report, 'it was pretty'? I'll think on that later. This is the first time I've been able to sit and look at actual sky in . . . how long . . . 12, 13 years? Too long.] Suddenly she sat up straight, fighting the dizziness that came with sudden movement. The expression she wore was both complete astonishment and absolute revulsion; but she quickly changed to realisation then buried all traces of outward emotion.
A Lt. asked, "Is something wrong, ma'am?"
"A warning signal, if you want to call it that. We've got company coming. That way. Check the perimeter. Carry weapons but don't, I repeat DON'T shoot unless they fire with intention to kill. I doubt they're even armed with anything lethal, if my guess is right. *Don't* shoot if you're only threatened or if it's an obvious miss. They might put a shot across your bow, so to speak, but I think they won't get violent unless you do so first. Remember we weren't invited here, but we can show them that we're polite guests anyway. Fuel the fires, it's chilly out and the light will help them find us better. Not that they would need the help, if that signal was any indication."
"Captain, are you sure about this? What signal, I didn't see anything."
"Carlson, you'll understand as soon as you meet them. I know *who* they are, I know why they had to come here, and I think that if they wanted us dead we would have been ripped apart beside the Drakh ships, never making it this far. They will help us, and then we'll go away quietly, probably having conveniently forgotten this place even exists. I ask you to trust me. And maybe to trust them, at least a little. I know I'll try to, but unless I see someone I know, I'm not so sure I'd let them into my own confidence. You'll understand as soon as you meet them." [God, I wish Gray were here. It would be so nice to know I had one on MY side . . . he wouldn't have changed, would he? Knowing about this place? Best not to think about that. But if we are where I *think* we are . . . ]
Then a surprised guard called out, "There's a light approaching from over that hill. Lots of lights!"
Carlson was startled. The direction the guard was pointing to was exactly the direction indicated by the Captain, who was obviously trying to not prickle up like an irritated porcupine - but failing. A few minutes later almost a dozen extremely suspicious earthforcers led eight people - all of whom seemed human - into the large clearing on the beach. Skittish-looking and thin, longhaired but clean-shaven, there was a mix of males and females. Most were obviously uncomfortable under scrutiny, but none backed away from the stares they received except one pale-haired woman; but the soldiers merely glanced at her heavily scarred face before moving their bright lights towards the next person. They all were totally unadorned of makeup or jewellery; dressed in plain pants and simple, colourful shirts with long sleeves to ward off the slight chill. Several dozen horses followed them in, each with an antique-looking oil lantern on a pole several feet high strapped to their sides; most were burdened with sealed cloth-and-wood packs filled with various items. The horses completely ignored the shocked looks, confusion, and scrutiny: they moved right to the water to drink. After complying with a somewhat rough search at the hands of the soldiers, their two-legged companions started to remove their packs and harnesses, letting the horses free to wander by the water's edge.
The Earthforce people gave each of the packs a careful once-over before letting the new arrivals touch any of them, as well as a second pass with the scanners over each of the local people. At the Captain's nod, one of the guards came over and explained what was in the packs, something the locals seemed willing to show anyway. Medical supplies of various primitive sorts, lots of sealed clay jars that the scanners said were harmless, a few small casks of the same oil in the lanterns, hundreds of blankets, spare clothing, dried food, simple water purifiers and storage bags, hand drawn maps, blank notebooks and cartridge-ink pens. One of the arrivals, a darker-haired woman, glanced around the camp until she'd spotted the department insignia of one of the senior nurses. He was hovering protectively over one of the badly injured; the local motioned him to come over as she started to unpack one of the crates that had scanned as medical supplies. The nurse waited until the Captain had nodded assent, then he walked over carefully.
Eight of the horses, the Captain noticed, just had a small blanket on their back - the people who'd brought them were riding without saddles. And she could see no bits to guide and control the animals, just halters and reins. The rest had nothing but halters and harnesses, and the lanterns and packs; there were no leads or connecting ropes. [Odd. Won't they wander off, maybe get lost?] The Captain tried to get a better look at the locals' faces in the dim light, seeking one in particular. She didn't find it. There was one familiar face, however - her hunch was suddenly confirmed, and her stomach was feeling decidedly queasy for it.
"Uh - Captain? I - uh . . . They haven't spoken a word yet to us," said a private whose name, she recalled, was Jensen. "No guns. Nothing that needs so much as a battery - Ma'am, I haven't seen oil lamps outside of a *museum*, ever, until now. They've each got a steel hunting knife and oil stone - for sharpening, and that one lad has an honest-to-god real life quiver and bow set. Several dozen arrows, and he showed me a kit for making new ones - stone arrowheads and some string stuff and such. They're not hiding anything, they just . . . aren't saying anything. They look a little spooked - but - uh - ma'am . . . I recognise that blond man. The - the leader, I guess. I saw him on ISN broadcasts, years ago, all over the news because of - of . . . He arrived on Babylon 5 just after you left. I think I've figured out where we are, Captain." He looked nervous.
"I recognised him, too. Think clean thoughts, private." She muttered to him. Then a bit louder, so the other officers around her could hear, but not the entire camp: "Let them finish taking care of their horses first. Carlson! C'mere."
"Right here, Captain."
"Good. Both your arms work . . . just in case. One thing. I'm fully aware of your wandering eye, and Henderson's too. A double reminder to keep your peepers in their sockets, especially around our hosts. I just know you're going to have a bad time with *what* they are, you've made enough comments in the past few months on the subject. Keep an open mind. Wait, no - oh, hell. You'll get the idea soon enough. Behave, ok?!" She turned her attention towards the shore, watching for several minutes as the newcomers continued to unload the horses and loose them to feed on the surrounding greenery, and concentrated on keeping her breathing level. [If he's here, why isn't *she* here?]
The man Jensen mentioned soon had made his way over to where the few officers present were gathered, either standing or sitting beside the seated Captain.
"I'm going to guess that you would be Byron," she said simply.
"Hello, Captain Ivanova," he replied calmly. "A pleasure to finally meet the legend, although I'm sure you wish it was under better circumstances."
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