Babylon 5: The Thin Grey Line (Crossover)

[Cyclone]

Scraped from here.

Another annoying plot bunny that wouldn't let go. So I wrote it. Originally conceived in conjunction with Beyond the Pale, but this element really didn't fit it.

* * *

Breaking the Oath

Prologue

* * *

Cmdr. John David Sheridan, EarthForce Navy, waited.

He'd been to Earthdome before, but the secrecy behind this meeting was unnerving, especially considering how badly the attempted peace negotiations had gone.

"The president will see you now, Commander."

That, too, was another reason he was anxious. It wasn't every day a commander met with the president of the Earth Alliance, even one who had scored a major victory... not that killing the Black Star had had any actual impact on the war.

He nodded to the aide, "Thank you."

He walked into the office and saluted, but before he could speak, President Elizabeth Levy of the Earth Alliance spoke, "Ah, Captain Sheridan, welcome."

"Commander Sheridan, ma'am," he corrected.

"Not anymore," she said, picking up a small velvet-covered box from her desk and handing it to him. "Congratulations, Captain. Go ahead; put it on."

He accepted the box and opened it, revealing the captain's insignia on it. With a mental shrug, he complied and pinned the insignia on his collar.

He waited again as she wandered over to the window and stared outside. There had to be more to this than that. A mere promotion would hardly be reason enough to require the president's presence... and even if it did, it wouldn't have been so informal.

"For a fifth time, Captain, the human race faces extinction," she said quietly. "The history of our planet is the widest-known and best-kept secret in the galaxy."

"Yes, Madam President," he nodded solemnly. The secret she spoke of was known -- in one form or another -- by practically every human being in the galaxy... but if any non-human had heard it, they weren't saying. After the last time, humanity had risen from the ashes, lessened in some ways, but strengthened in that this time, they did it on their own.

And now all of it was about to be destroyed again.

"What you don't know, Captain, what very few even on Earth know, is that we didn't destroy all our old ships," she said. That struck Sheridan as a surprise. Even with the lead-in... that they would risk breaking the treaty...

"Now, Captain," she said, turning to face him, "I'm asking you -- asking, not ordering -- to break the vow our species made over two hundred years ago."

"But, ma'am," he protested, "if we do that..."

"We have to survive the Minbari before we can start worrying about them, Captain," she pointed out. "We've already got a task force assembled, one hundred thousand of our best and brightest. We have a fleet of the old ships and fighters, hidden in the Pegasus Galaxy. We have a ship, one of the old line; she's been in storage on the moon until she was needed, and she's ready to fly. All we need now is a mission commander. Do you accept, Captain?"

Sheridan thought about it. Considering what would happen if the Children of Shadow were still out there...

...was exactly what was happening now, they really didn't have a choice.

He stood at attention, "Yes, Madam President. I accept."

* * *

Captain Sheridan resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the arm rest, tap his feet, do something to pass the time and bleed off nervous energy while he waited for the report from Engineering. It was amazing what a difference two hundred years made. The ship was huge, almost as large as an Explorer-class, and the design was amazingly spacious.

Her drives were already up and running by the time Sheridan had arrived, but even so, she still felt deserted and gave off a tomb-like feel whenever he walked her corridors, despite the task force of 100,000 people aboard. She had been the first of her line, originally built as a colony ship, minimally armed but able to defend herself. She had been pressed into service in the last war of that era, though, and had undergone extensive refits before being mothballed as a last-ditch resort.

Now she would truly live up to her name.

If they succeeded and returned in time, she would be an Angel, saving humanity from the brink of extinction.

And if they failed or were too late, she would become an Ark for the task force aboard her... who would be the last of the human race.

"Captain, Engineering," the comm unit built into his arm rest burbled. "Final systems check is complete. We're as ready to launch as we'll ever be."

That was Cmdr. Karen Leeds, his Engineering officer. Her record spoke for itself, but Sheridan had never actually met her before coming aboard. Earthdome had begun recruiting the task force as far back as the disastrous attack on Sh'Lekk'Tha; in twelve seconds, forty EarthForce ships had been annihilated by a mere dozen Minbari war cruisers. While he understood the need, Sheridan had felt a little leery about working with a crew he hadn't gotten a feel for yet, but they were trying.

"Thank you, Engineering," he replied. "Take us out, Lieutenant."

"Aye, Captain," acknowledged Lt. Steven Hunter, helmsman and navigations officer, as he eased the Ark Angel out of the lunar bunker for the first time in over two hundred years.

"Comm, give me ship-wide."

"You have ship-wide," said Specialist Erin Lynn.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Sheridan spoke into the comm in his arm rest, "all of you know why we're here and what's on the line. Each of us was chosen for a reason, even if none of us on this ship know what that reason is. Earthdome has placed its trust in us, so someone there thinks we're damn good at our jobs. We all know what we hope to find on the other end of this trip, but two hundred years is a long time. Whatever we find, whatever happens, I have my faith in you."

"We're in position, Captain."

"Engineering, Bridge," Sheridan said. "Is the fold system ready?"

"Yes, sir. Fold system is operational."

"Commence fold."

* * *

On a planet circling a distant star, the Awareness stirred.

 

[Cyclone]

Breaking the Oath


Chapter One

* * *


It was the eve of the Third Age of mankind, during the height of the Earth-Minbari War.


The Pegasus mission was born out of desperation. A gigantic ship sent to break a vow made over two hundred years ago. But two hundred years is a long time. It was our last, best hope... for survival.


One hundred thousand people, all alone in the night.


The year is 2246. The name of the ship is Ark Angel.


* * *


For such a young race, the Earth Alliance had made many allies, particularly after they assisted the League of Non-Aligned Worlds in the Dilgar War. When the Earth-Minbari War began, the Earth Alliance rapidly understood just how much those alliances were worth.


Even this latest gamble was tinged by doubt.


Humanity had made allies before, under similar circumstances, and it was in their care that they had left this last ace in the hole.


It was something Sheridan tried very hard not to think about.


"Defold in T-minus one minute."


Sheridan's gaze snapped up to the main monitor. Folding was very different from traveling through hyperspace. There was no sense of motion, just an odd vibration. No beacons, no maneuvering, just setting a destination and riding it out.


It was extremely unsettling.


All that wasn't even including the nauseating optical effect, as everything seemed to color shift and fade in and out of focus wherever he looked. That was why he had spent the entire trip staring into his lap.


He watched as the main monitor counted down. When it hit zero, they would be in normal space again, and it switch to an external camera feed.


* * *


Captain K'Don of the SAS Hayes was bored. He understood his duty, but that did not make it any easier to bear. It had been many long years since the Earthers had placed this secret cache in the Sentinels' care, but Karbarra would not forget their debt or their promise... and neither would any of the other races.


The Hayes was a good ship, a Karbarran gun cruiser, four hundred meters long and armed with plasma weapons for close-in defense, heavy railguns and missile tubes for ship to ship combat, and a pair of superheavy mass drivers.


"Gravitational distortion detected!" called out his sensor operator, Inze. Depending on who you asked, Inze was either a Tirolian or a Praxian. Since the end of the last war, the Tirolians and Praxians -- who were genetically compatible and technically the same species -- had been making periodic attempts to integrate their societies together, but none of them really worked out. Inze was one of the many mixed breeds that resulted.


K'Don bolted to his feet. A gravitational distortion meant...


A fold!


"Bring all weapons online, plot an intercept course, and make best speed!"


* * *


Sheridan studied the ship in the main monitor. It was an ugly design, even by human standards. A misshapen purple cigar four hundred meters long with weapons bulging from it at regular intervals. Two large, spinal-mounted weapons could be seen protruding from the bow... which was pointed straight at them. It had obviously detected their defold operation and moved to intercept. There were no planets on the monitor, however, only an asteroid field.


"Captain, we have an incoming transmission," Lynn said. She looked up, "It's in English, sir."


"I see," Sheridan nodded. "Main speakers."


"This is Captain K'Don of the Sentinel Alliance Starship Hayes to Ark Angel," the heavily accented voice was a low, gutteral growl. "Identify yourself and transmit authentication codes immediately. You have five minutes to comply."


"Lynn?"


"Transmitting now, Captain."


"This is Captain John Sheridan of EarthForce," he introduced himself. "Our history says that, before the Great Oath, we left ships and weapons in your care should we ever need it. Currently, we are at war with a genocidal and technologically superior race called the Minbari. We need those ships and weapons now."


There was a long pause, and K'Don replied, "Your authentication matches, Captain Sheridan. Welcome to Old Praxis. And while I cannot speak for the Advisory Council, I am confident that Karbarra, at least, will aid you in your time of need. We remember our debts, Captain."


* * *


The Sentinel Alliance Advisory Council was holding an emergency meeting.


"I believe we must help them," T'Lon said calmly, his gentle. He was the Karbarran representative to the Advisory Council and its current president. "That is, after all, why the Alliance still exists today, is it not?"


"Do we truly want to unleash protoculture on the universe again?" the Tirolian representative, Tyreen, asked.


The Praxian representative, Zora, pinned Tyreen with a glare, "My people will not stand by and allow the humans to suffer as we have, regardless of the Council's decision."


Tyreen held up a hand, "Peace, Zora. My blood calls out to help them as well -- it thirsts for battle -- but it is a question that must be asked."


"The Oath has already been broken," Baldan pointed out. "They will come. What happens when they do depends on what we do now." Baldan represented the longest-lived of the Sentinel species. He was a Spherian, and in fact, he had personally known many of the humans from before the Oath.


"Agreed," Kanai, the Garudan representative, nodded. "We have been expecting this. The Hin warned us."


T'Lon looked over at the last representative, "And Terak? How do you vote?"


The mysterious Perytonian merely inclined his head and said, "I believe I shall abstain."


T'Lon had expected that response. The Perytonians had become an insular people, and while they supported the Sentinel Alliance, they did not integrate themselves into mixed crews like the other races; rather, they simply stationed their own ships in the Old Praxis asteroid belt, small things that had proven to be astonishingly capable whenever space pirates tried to raid the cache.


The space pirates seemed to possess an uncanny ability to run afoul of the Perytonians.


* * *


"We don't have enough people."


Sheridan looked up, "What do you mean, we don't have enough people? We've got a hundred thousand people to crew those ships with."


"The cache includes four carrier groups and the Pioneer," Cmdr. Elizabeth Lochley -- his ex-wife and XO -- explained. "That's four Tokugawa-class carriers, eight Valivarre-class battleships, eight Ikazuchi-class super cruisers, thirty-two Shimakaze-class battlecruisers, and ninety-six Garfish-class light cruisers. Factor in the fighters, and we'd need another fourteen to fifteen thousand at an absolute minimum, with no spare personnel at all and no ground forces. We can crew them all if we start carving out our air groups or cut ourselves down to two shifts on enough ships, but that'll be hell on those crews."


Sheridan stared. "We have that much? How? That's more than our records show us ever having, at least of the larger classes."


"Apparently," she said, "a converted factory satellite was operating on automatic at minimal power using conventional fission power for a few decades after the Oath. There's still a dozen more half-finished hulls inside the thing."


"Converted factory satellite..." he mused. "Commander, can you find out if the satellite's fold drive is still functional? I mean, yes, it might need a new power source, but can it fold? If so, we use the fold effect to carry all the ships to Earth and get the rest of our crews there."


"I'll look into it," she said, "but that's not the only problem, sir. These ships are old. A lot of the systems are failing. It's going to take us a while just to get the completed ships operational again, and with Ark Angel's fold drive down..."


The Ark Angel was an old ship as well, and its fold drive had burned out soon after they arrived in the Old Praxis system.


"Understood," he nodded. "Focus on whichever ship we can get fold operational first, then we'll focus on the Pioneer and the other big ships. We're going to need all the firepower we can get."


* * *


"The Sentinel Alliance pledges its assistance," Councillor T'Lon said. "Not just the Alliance ships, but ships from our own navies as well. We do not, however, have fold drives, as they require protoculture, so our ships will have to be carried by yours."


"We appreciate it, Councillor," Sheridan said, "but I don't think we can, in good conscience, ask you to risk angering the Minbari."


"You are not asking," T'Lon replied firmly. "We are doing."


"Your ancestors came to us and freed us when they had no need to do so," Kanai said, "when we, in good conscience, could not ask them to risk the wrath of the Invid. They did, and now we do."


"Besides," Zora interjected, "this very asteroid belt, in which your weapons were stored, it is... was... my people's home planet, Captain John Sheridan. Just as you cannot, in good conscience, ask us to intervene, we cannot, in good conscience, stand by and do nothing."


Sheridan swallowed hard and bowed his head, "Thank you, all of you. That means a great deal to us. More than you know."


* * *


Cmdr. Elizabeth Lochley and Capt. John Sheridan were watching as the the Garfish-class light cruiser was loaded. They had already landed a full load of veritech fighters and filled its on-board computers with technical data. Now, they were jamming every spare nook and cranny with protoculture cells. The matrix had been destroyed, but the cache contained a supply worth several years. Some of the technology wouldn't be immediately useful, but quite a few would be.


It had taken them two months -- two months! -- just to get one of them ready for the return to Earth space. The factory satellite's fold drive was almost a write-off; Commander Leeds estimated five years before they could get it online again.


"She's a good ship," Lochley murmured. "Fast too."


"That she is," Sheridan nodded. He smirked, "A fast ship for a fast woman."


"Well, I doubt the EA needs another minuteman right now," she shot back good-naturedly. "What are you going to call her?"


"Hermes," he replied. "As you said, she's fast. You'll leave as soon as she's ready."


* * *


"Godspeed, Commander," Sheridan's voice echoed through the light cruiser's bridge.


"Thank you, Captain," Lochley replied. "Hermes out."


Lt. Cmdr. Sinclair was her XO for this trip. The man was a gifted pilot, one of the best, and had headed the research into how to use the veritech fighters. The fighters alone -- with their shadow cloaking and nuclear payloads -- could make a huge difference in the war.


"Fold system is up and operational, Commander."


"Commence fold."


* * *


The Awareness stirred again.


It felt the stink of the Light-touched... the promise to the First One, the Oldest, most respected by the Progenitors... was broken. The Infant Oath Breakers had returned to using the forbidden fruit. They had broken their word. The Progenitors must know. The Eye must open.


They must have vengeance.


But first, more must be learned. But how? Who?


The answer came.


The Eye called for a human. They seemed to embody the traits the Progenitors preferred, even if they were Light-touched.


So be it.


* * *


Baldan watched the newly-christened EAS Hermes initiate a fold. He knew what had happened before; he knew why the Oath had been made. He knew they would come back. Two centuries of peace was a gift from the universe, but as time passes, signs and portents show the promise of things to come. Once again, the tremor of war was about to shake the Sentinel worlds.


"Again... it begins."

 

[Cyclone]

Since there's all this ruckus over this 'fic, I suppose I ought to post another chapter. In keeping with the pattern I set with The Long March, characters from other fiction will be swiped as needed to fill certain roles. Including a major character in this chapter. This is not to be considered a crossover with those sources, as only names and personalities will remain intact (and the latter adapted to the setting). That said, here's...

* * *

Breaking the Oath

Chapter Two

* * *

It was the twilight of the Second Age of humankind, a time of great shame for us all.

The humans had made a desperate gamble to survive, reaching into their forbidden past to take hold of their destiny. One ship had returned, carrying within it the secrets their Oath had denied them.

A single flicker of hope, all alone in the night.

It is the Earth year 2246. The name of that ship is Hermes.

* * *

Captain Honor Stephanie Harrington, EarthForce Navy, was good at what she did. In another reality, crippled by vastly inferior technology, she would have been fated to become one of the many EarthForce captains who gave their lives to hold off the Minbari for just that much longer, ramming her Nova-class dreadnought in a suicide pact that would have destroyed two Minbari war cruisers.

In this reality, however, events were slightly different.

Her ship, EAS Nimitz, had just returned to the front after an emergency refit, and she was senior officer of the Cyrus III Task Force, assigned to defend Cyrus III's Quantium 40 mines and the over 40,000 civilians inhabiting the planet and orbitals. Alongside Nimitz was another Nova-class dreadnought, EAS Abrams; a pair of Hyperion-class heavy cruisers, EAS Daedalus and EAS Enterprise; and less than a dozen support ships: Four Artemis-class heavy frigates and six Olympus-class corvettes.

Oh, and one... small... insignificant... light cruiser...

Fifteen ships against whatever the Minbari chose to throw at them.

When the jump points opened and disgorged six Sharlin war cruisers, the Minbari were confident that this would be an easy victory. At the beginning of the war, forty ships had barely lasted twelve Earth seconds against twelve Sharlins, even after the Minbari had allowed the humans the courtesy of the first shot. Simple math dictated that this human fleet would fall even faster.

They had no idea what they were getting into.

* * *

"Mister Stromboli," Honor addressed her navigation officer, "take us out. Mister Cardones, activate the new targeting program. Mister Webster, tie us in to the fleet network." She brought up the internal comm, "Engineering, Bridge. How's the new system?"

The new system had been a major overhaul, but it was central to their strategy for this battle. They had gutted the marine berthing for the space needed to mount the new system and replaced Nimitz's four fusion reactors with reflex furnaces to power the new system as well as the refitted weapons.

"Chief Harkness says it's, and I quote, 'twitchy, but workable.'"

"Thank you, Miss Santos," Honor replied, leaning back into her command chair.

Once more into the breach, my friends... she thought. She had flown with this same crew and ship throughout the Dilgar War, even taking command once when then-Captain Sarnow had been temporarily incapacitated. They had a lot of history together.

As the dreadnought nosed out of the crowd, the other ships closed formation behind her, exactly as planned. When Honor estimated that they were halfway toward the war cruisers, she said, "Mister Webster, open a communication line to the Minbari."

"Line open."

"This is Captain Honor Harrington of the Earth Alliance Starship Nimitz," she said. "Considering your people's actions, I'm about to make you a very generous offer: You have until I get into range to surrender or leave, or you will be destroyed." She swiped her hand, and Webster cut the transmission.

Silence swept over the bridge as the bridge officer exchanged quick, discreet looks. They knew the Skipper had a set of brass ones, but she must have traded them in for battle steel before this mission.

* * *

Aboard the lead Sharlin, the Trigati, Alyt Sineval snarled. He had never been so insulted in his life! Did these fools truly believe they would win?

"Destroy them all," he ordered in a furious whisper. "We will crush them, then bombard the settlements to dust."

It was a deviation from the policy set for the war. The plan was to annihilate their military and mop up the civilian settlements later, but Sineval was furious. His honor would not allow such an insult to pass unpunished.

* * *

"Mister Cardones, do we have targets?"

Awe was evident in the man's eyes as his tactical board showed six targets: capital size gravitational distortions. Gravitic sensors that had once served as an early warning system against incoming folds now tracked gravitic drives -- just as thermal sensors had once locked onto jet exhausts -- and that information was being piped to Nimitz from what was quite possibly the most important ship in the entire EarthForce fleet.

"Yes, ma'am, we do."

"Very well," she said. "Let's be about it, then. Weapons free, Mister Cardones. Engineering, please be ready to activate the new system."

"Aye, Captain," Lt. Cardones and Cmdr. Santos chorused, despite being seperated by hundreds of meters.

* * *

When the first charged particle beams struck the Trigati, Alyt Sineval did not, at first, understand what had happened. By the third salvo, understanding dawned.

This human ship had somehow overcome the Sharlins' stealth systems, and its weapons had been vastly improved as well.

"Return fire!" he bellowed. "Destroy them at once!"

"We are attacking, Alyt!" his first officer, Kalain reported. "Our weapons have no effect!"

"What?" Sineval stared at the display. The human ship's weapons had fallen silent, but the Sharlins' neutron beams were hitting some sort of energy barrier that surrounded the human ship in a sphere.

"Impossible!"

Yet it was happening.

* * *

"Are the fighters in position?" Honor asked.

The fighters in question were a pair of Shadow Alphas that had hitched a ride on Nimitz's hull. Since the Minbari were holding their fighters in reserve -- most likely to deploy them against the bulk of the fleet -- the two fighters, invisible to anything but the naked eye, were free to roam about while Nimitz drew the Minbari's fire. The omni-directional barrier system was powerful, but it worked two ways, and after the third salvo, when the Minbari began returning fire, they had brought up the barrier and subsequently been unable to reply. This, of course, was part of the plan and why the fighters were there.

Lt. Webster spoke quietly into the comm and looked up, "Yes, ma'am. They're in position, and they've picked their targets."

"Excellent. Mister Webster, please transmit to the fleet: Execute Firestorm."

"Aye, Captain."

The other ships of the fleet responded. Hundreds of terminally-guided missiles streaked across the distance separating the EarthForce ships from the war cruisers, most from the mass-fire racks of the six Olympus-class corvettes.

The Minbari stealth system had two critical flaws. The first was that it did nothing to conceal their gravitic drives; though, to be fair, gravitic sensors were unheard of by most space-faring civilizations in this region of space. The second was that the ships were still visible to the naked eye; the stealth system was effective enough against electromagnetic radiation to foil radar and lidar... but the focused strength of a laser was a different story.

There were only two fighters, so they could only paint two targets. In the end, it was overkill. The two targeted war cruisers shattered like fine china under the storm of laser-guided missiles. The lead war cruiser, having been the sole target of Nimitz's three particle beam salvos, was already limping and was damaged even further by the shrapnel from her sister ships.

That left three others mostly untouched.

"Engineering, kill the barrier," Honor said. "Mister Stromboli, all ahead full. Put us between them. Mister Webster, ship-wide, prepare for Death Roll."

"All hands, prepare for Death Roll! All hands, prepare for Death Roll!" Lt. Webster's voiced echoed throughout the ship even as she altered course and charged at the three relatively undamaged war cruisers.

"Mister Stromboli, Mister Cardones," Honor said calmly. "Engage Death Roll, all weapons."

Nimitz suddenly whirled into a stomach-wrenching roll as she passed between the war cruisers, firing all her guns and raking them with particle beams at point-blank range. A few seconds later, neutron beams lanced out from the war cruisers and slashed her hull.

The main advantage of the "Death Roll" maneuver was that the enemy could not concentrate their fire to pierce the ship's armor. The Minbari weapons were powerful enough to shred even a Nova-class's armor with just a few hits, but the Death Roll prevented them from getting those few hits in the same place except by pure chance. Its main disadvantage, however, lay in the fact that the Nova-class did not have artificial gravity, and as a result, the crew was effectively incapacitated by the dizzying maneuver. During a Death Roll, the weapons relied on computer targeting... which, against the Minbari, normally amounted to random (and typically ineffective) firing. This was, in fact, how it had earned its name. When it was developed during the Dilgar War, it had been a very risky, last-resort maneuver: highly effective but just as likely to backfire. Against the Minbari, with their powerful weapons and impenetrable stealth, it was as suicidal under normal conditions as ramming and less effective to boot.

These were not normal conditions.

Audacity. Always audacity.

The Minbari Warrior Caste had been preparing for war for generations. They knew all the rules and nuances of warfare. They knew what tactics worked and what didn't between various technological levels.

But Honor Harrington had just thrown those rules out the window, and in the confusion, the Minbari didn't know how to react. In those long seconds of confused hesitation, Nimitz's particle beams slashed two of the mostly undamaged war cruisers with deadly precision until, suddenly, one of them exploded.

The Minbari were a brave people, particularly the Warrior Caste. In some ways, they were also quite stupid.

In battle, however, was not one of those ways.

The rules had changed, and they needed to regroup. Two jump points opened, and the three remaining war cruisers departed the system, too far behind Nimitz for them to pursue even if they hadn't been too stunned to consider it.

Silence reigned on the bridge again, until Ensign Prescott Tremaine broke it with two words.

"They ran," he said in a hushed whisper, disbelief evident in both his voice and expression. "They ran!"

Honor stared in equally growing amazement as the magnitude of what they had just accomplished dawned on her. Those had been Minbari war cruisers. A fleet that size could wipe out twenty EarthForce ships in a matter of seconds, and they -- one ship! -- had just waltzed up to them, plowed right through them, and shattered the attack, taking only a few hits.

She shook off her elation. "All right, people!" she said, snapping the bridge crew out of their daze. "Damage report! All sections!"

* * *

May 17th, 2246. It was a date that would be remembered. It was the date of the first battle in which the Minbari fled from the Earth Alliance.

It would not be the last.

John Sheridan showed that the Minbari could be hurt, that they were not invincible. Honor Harrington showed that they could be driven off, that they were not infallible either. Humanity had heroes again, heroes of legend, facing unstoppable gods of destruction and death... and coming away, not just alive... but victorious.

But heroes alone do not win wars.

* * *

"I see," Shai Alyt Branmer nodded as he considered the report he had just received. "These technologies are unprecedented. That they might pierce our stealth or develop new weapons was considered, but this new shield..." he shook his head. "I must inform the Grey Council." He nodded at his communications officer, who cut the connection, then turned to his Sharlin's navigator, "Take us to the Valen'tha."

It was obvious the humans were being aided. Either that, or they had been holding in reserve advanced technology for no apparent reason... or they advanced technologically at a truly terrifying rate.

No, someone was helping the humans. And if someone was helping the humans, it then begged the question: Who was that someone?

The Abbai? They certainly had shield technology. Perhaps the Brakiri? Selling the technology they bought from the Abbai?

Yet even Abbai shields would not have stopped the full firepower of six Sharlins.

It did not seem likely that it would be the Vorlons. If the Vorlons disapproved, there was no need for them to resort to such covert machinations to stop the Minbari crusade.

And yet, the technology was not like that of the Shadows either.

So, who was it?

It was a troubling question.

* * *

"They ran?" President Elizabeth Levy repeated in disbelief.

"Yes, Madam President," replied Admiral Alexander. "Harrington took out three war cruisers and heavily damaged two more, with only moderate casualties from the Death Roll. The other three war cruisers left, and it looks like one of the damaged ones lost its jump drive too. Nimitz will be in drydock for at least a month for repairs... assuming the yard dogs ever get to her. We're transferring Harrington and her crew to one of the new SuperNovas, the Nike."

"Understood," she nodded. "How does this affect the war effort?"

"Not as much as I'd like," the admiral admitted. "Morale is skyrocketing, but Hermes can only be in one place at a time, and she's the only ship with gravitic sensors. We're still having trouble duplicating them reliably, and construction of the new classes and the other refits and overhauls already have our shipyards filled beyond normal safe capacity."

"I see." She glanced at her Secretary of State, "Has this affected the official stance of the Centauri or the League?"

"Not yet, Madam President," he replied. "However, the Narns have slashed their prices. They're still gouging us, but not by anywhere near as much as they were before, and from what I've been hearing, the Centauri and the League are starting to worry about what'll happen if we actually do beat the Minbari."

The president's eyes turned to liquid nitrogen, and with a voice equally cold, she said, "They should. In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."

* * *

"We must help them, Mother."

"No. The humans have chosen this path, and now, they must walk it."

"Is that what the Vorlons said about us, Mother? When the Children of Shadow drove us from our home?"

Silence.

"At least let me visit my nephew, Mother."

"Very well, my daughter. Go. See your nephew. Do what you will."

"Thank you, Mother."

* * *

Author's Note:

I said veritechs don't have any particular sensors that can penetrate Minbari stealth besides their visual cameras. Never said anything about capital ships, and there's never been any indication of gravitic sensors on fighters. ;7

 

[Cyclone]

Breaking the Oath


Chapter Three

* * *


It was the eve of the Third Age of mankind, during the height of the Earth-Minbari War.


The hidden cache had been built for fear of the future, and for two hundred years, it lay dormant, defended by Earth's distant allies. It was our last, best hope... for survival.


One hundred and forty-nine ships, all alone in the night.


The year is 2247. The name of the place is Old Praxis.


* * *


Sheridan was a soldier, not a diplomat. That was his opinion of the matter, at least, which actually seemed to put him in good stead with several of the Sentinel Alliance's member races.


The Karbarrans were a huge mammalian species that bore a strong ursine appearance, though they moved with a grace and dignity that belied their size. He had learned they were a race of builders and explorers who channelled their aggression into ritualized sparring matches and maintained a strong element of personal honor in their culture. They saw war as a necessary evil but took great pride in that their tools of war were efficient and well-designed. After taking a tour of the SAS Hayes, Sheridan had to agree.


Hayes's corriders were a little spacious by human standards, but it was slightly cramped for the Karbarrans. There wasn't a cubic foot of wasted space, and the ship was built in sections and layered like an onion, with the most critical systems in the interior. Each section and each layer could be sealed off in case of a hull breach.


The Tirolian Federation, on the other hand, was actually populated by the descendents of three different peoples: the human colonists who had chosen to resettle on Tirol when the Great Oath was sworn, the surviving native Tirolians themselves, and micronized remnants of the Zentraedi. The Zentraedi's warrior culture had melded with the strong military influence of those early colonies from Earth to form a major Tirolian subculture that still thrived to this day. The Tirolian ship he had toured, a four-kilometer-long dreadnought called TFS Breetai, had been a disconcerting experience for him for a number of reasons, including the bizarrely familiar-yet-not interior architecture.


Breetai was absolutely gigantic for a warship, and the huge array of mass reactors -- which used dark matter decay to power the ship -- provided enough power to not only open a jump point large enough for a small fleet to go through... but enough to power a truly mind-boggling array of energy weapons. Breetai outgunned a Nova-class five to one! From what he had been told during the tour, Breetai was actually a converted Nupetiet Vergnitzs-class Zentraedi flagship, which explained the ship's enormous dimensions. Much of the interior space that had been devoted to crew had given way to the mass reactors; in order to compensate for the lower power output of the mass reactors in comparison to reflex furnaces, they had simply added more reactors. A lot more.


And then there was the Praxian Republic. They were certainly difficult for Sheridan to deal with. Not that they had anything against him.


On the contrary, they liked him very much. Which was the problem.


Once a peaceful, agricultural society, the Robotech Masters and Invid had changed the Praxians forever into something reminiscent of the Amazon legends of Ancient Greece. Their entire approach to warfare could be summed up in two words: Ever vigilant. They were always perparing to defend their people, training in all forms of combat, and valued martial prowess and valor very highly. Which meant that scoring the only victory against a technologically superior foe had earned Sheridan considerable credit in their eyes. That wouldn't have been a problem if it weren't for the facts that they were all female, all drop-dead gorgeous, and had some... interesting ideas on social interactions.


The Praxians' previous reliance on the "Place of Life" to reproduce had resulted in an embarrassingly (for others) sexually open society. Although the Praxians were genetically human (as were the Zentraedi and Tirolians), they did appear to have a homeobox gene that coded for a protein that permanently turned off the male determinant genes on the Y chromosome early in development. This was one of the things that made full integration with the Tirolian Federation difficult. Fully half the offspring would be XY females, with lower fertility and only a one-third chance of producing male offspring... and another one-third chance of producing more XY females. Such an uneven reproduction ratio could have a potentially disastrous impact, from a biological standpoint at least, on the gender ratios.


Where the anti-male gene came from was a mystery, but an archaeological investigation of their "Place of Life" before it (along with the planet) was destroyed proved it to be a Tirolian cloning facility, complete with resizing chambers. That suggested that the Praxians were likely descended from a group of female Zentraedi who had gotten temporally displaced and stranded on Praxis, then resized themselves to reduce their food needs. It was a theory which some suggested might apply to the Tirolians' origins, since fossil records indicated that they had certainly not evolved there.


The Spherians were an old race. Not old in the sense of having been around a long time as a species, but old in the sense of having individuals with memories that date back to the beginning of the species. Their biology -- if that was even the right word -- was difficult to comprehend, as they were an amorphous crystalline species that could shape their bodies at will, and their minds seemed to be a form of energy that simply resided in their physical bodies. According to Baldan, humans had not changed very much in the last two hundred years, and Sheridan was willing to bet that the crystalline ambassador knew what he was talking about.


The Perytonians... well, the less said about the mysterious, demonic-looking race, the better. Like most sentient species, they were humanoid. They were tall and slender, hairless, with tall heads, long horns, and eyes that seemed to glow in low light. The cloaks and staves added further to the eerie impression. Terak had only said, "We will be there." When Sheridan had pressed and asked when, Terak had simply smiled and replied, "When you need us."


The Garudans were just as disturbing as the Perytonians in their own way. They were a lithe, catlike or foxlike humanoid species with a coat of long hair all over their bodies, and the atmosphere they breathed was slightly different from the nitrogen-oxygen mix most species were comfortable with. What bothered Sheridan, however, was that their entire species was telepathic. Like most mundanes in the Earth Alliance, Sheridan never was entirely comfortable with telepaths. However, he had gotten to know the telepath assigned to this mission, Richard Belmont, which had eased his feelings and made dealing with the Garudans much easier. It helped that their mysticism couched their telepathic powers in more comfortable trappings.


Right now, though, he was puzzling over one of the other things found in the cache. It was a bank of computers that had been salvaged from the wreckage of the SDF-1. According to the inventory list -- thank God their ancestors thought to include one! -- these were computers that the old Robotech Research Group had never been able to crack. There were a few they had never even been able to activate.


Sheridan looked at one in particular. From what the RRG had been able to decipher, it was locked by genetic access. With a shrug, Sheridan stuck his finger in the scanner. It couldn't hurt.


The computer suddenly hummed to life, and the monitor lit up, startling him as a video recording began to play.


"Hello, old friend."


* * *


Rhakishi was a pirate. He was not a Tirolian like most pirates in this sector were. The Spherians had little need for material goods, the Karbarrans were too easygoing for the most part, the Praxians had their honor code, the Garudans' telepathic abilities made them a very communal people, and the Perytonians... well, no one knew what the story was with the Perytonians.


Rhakishi himself was a Garudan. He had known he was different from his people from an early age. Had a biopsy been done, it would have revealed a chemical imbalance in his brain that altered his mental perceptions.


They were using a converted relic of the past, the hulk of an old Zentraedi scout ship, one of dozens that still roamed the space lanes. Due to the size of the original crew and pilots, Zentraedi vessels and mecha were the easiest to convert to less efficient power systems, as they had plenty of room to spare. The fighters aboard were a mix of converted Gnerl fighter pods and a hodgepodge of modern fighters. They had only a handful of precious mecha, which they kept out of the fighting and used to pick the wreckage of any victims they had been forced to blow apart.


Rhakishi himself flew a Karbarran Kathari fighter. The Kathari was nimble and fast in a way that its intended pilots weren't. It was a lightly armed transatmospheric fighter, with a pair of plasma bolters mounted at the ends of its wings.


Their captain, Jak Carlson, had heard of new activity at Old Praxis. Many ships were coming and going, and Jak had convinced most of the crew that the prize was worth the risk, something about having an inside man. Rhakishi had his doubts, but he would go along. At the very least, it would allow him a chance to taste the sweet flavor of fear again.


* * *


Sheridan had found the message to be both enlightening and a little troubling. Right now, he was in his quarters aboard Ark Angel.


"Captain Sheridan!" came a shout, accompanied by a pounding on his door.


Sheridan rose and opened the door. It was the mission telepath, Richard Belmont, a slender man with reddish-brown eyes and unruly greenish-blond hair. "What is it, Rick?"


"We've got incoming," the telepath said breathlessly. "Raiders."


Sheridan nodded, and just as he reached for his uniform shirt, his personal comm terminal flared to life.


"Captain, we have a jump point forming."


Sheridan glanced at Belmont, then activated the comm terminal and said, "On my way." He shot Belmont an arched eyebrow, "Just how strong a telepath are you, Belmont?"


"Officially?" Belmont shrugged. "P8."


"And... unofficially?" Sheridan asked as he buttoned up his uniform shirt.


"Don't really know, and I'm not about to let Psi Corps find out," Belmont replied, then grinned. "Otherwise, it wouldn't be unofficial anymore, would it?"


"Fair enough."


* * *


"Jump point forming! Emerging... Zentraedi scout ship, Tou Redir-class."


"What?" Cmdr. Zeraan James, Tirolian Spacy, captain of the SAS Taylor, rose to his feet. "Challenge them."


"No response."


"They're approaching at attack speed, Captain."


"Pirates," he scowled. "Power up weapons and move to intercept. Have all mecha ready to launch."


"Aye, Captain," chorused his navigation, flight control, and tactical officers.


He glanced at the tactical display and noted where the other ships of the picket flotilla were; none of them were in position to intercept before Taylor, not even the Perytonian ship, which was on the far side of the patrol zone. There was nothing particularly unusual about the Perytonian's positioning... except that this was the first time in the two hundred years since the Oath that pirates had arrived from any vector that did not put the Perytonian picket ship directly in their path.


At three hundred meters, Taylor was a Tirolian Sian Diel-class heavy frigate, designed specifically for anti-piracy operations. The problem was that the Sian Diel-class was really designed for escorting civilian convoys, not defending fixed positions, which meant it lacked combat endurance, relying on its heavy missile batteries to deter pirates while the convoy fled for safety. On top of that, even heavily armed pirates typically still used modern civilian ships converted for combat, not warships from the protoculture days converted to use modern technology... and a Zentraedi scout ship was big enough to count as a destroyer or even a light cruiser by current ship standards, albeit one lacking heavy enough weapons to threaten larger warships. Which Taylor was not.


Zeraan knew his ship and crew would not be able to stop the pirates. They could hurt them. Badly. But they could not stop them.


That didn't mean they weren't going to try.


* * *


Citar was a Perytonian. It was his ship that was assigned to the picket line. He had detected the pirates coming, but he had a more pressing concern to deal with.


It was a probe, one with a limited degree of intelligence.


"They have broken the Oath!" it "shrieked." It wasn't using any spoken or even telepathic form of communication. Nonetheless, Citar "heard" it and replied in the same manner.


"They shall be dealt with," he "said" soothingly. "It is an isolated incident. The Oath shall be upheld. We will see to it."


"You are certain?"


"Yes," he "said" firmly.


A wave of uncertainty rippled across the probe.


"We are still loyal," he assured it.


After a long, tense moment, it responded.


"The Awareness shall be informed."


Citar slumped in his chair in relief as he felt it fade away.


* * *


Sheridan watched the tactical display as SAS Taylor engaged the raiders. The heavy frigate was putting up a good fight, but they weren't going to survive long enough for the rest of the picket fleet to arrive.


"Multiple jump points forming!"


"More raiders?" Sheridan sputtered in surprise.


"The new ships are broadcasting..." Specialist Lynn said, then looked up in surprise. "It's the Karbarran Navy, sir. They're demanding the pirates surrender."


Sheridan relaxed, "Well, that was interesting. I take it that's the strike force Councillor T'Lon promised us?"


"Yes, sir, it is."


"Great," Sheridan leaned back. "Now if we can just get these fold drives working, we'll be in business."


* * *


Author's Postscript:


As you can see, I am reimagining the Sentinel races somewhat. I apologize if all the science in the Praxian description was excessive, but that was a genetic peculiarity I just had to address.

 

[Cyclone]

I'm actually a little surprised that no one felt the message waiting for Sheridan was worth talking about. I was expecting at least some speculation. Oh, well. More characters yoinked from other sources ahead.

* * *

Breaking the Oath

Chapter Four

* * *

It was the eve of the Third Age of mankind. It was a year of fateful choices, the year the Great Alliance came before us all.

The humans had managed to blunt the Minbari's once seemingly unstoppable advance, around a single world that came to symbolize the entire war. The galaxy held its collective breath... and waited.

One otherwise insignificant planet, all alone in the night.

It is the Earth year 2247. The name of the place is Cyrus III.

* * *

"Hello, old friend," Captain Honor Harrington said, extending a hand. "Welcome to Cyrus III, Captain Sisko. The admiral sends his regards."

"Thank you, Honor," Captain Benjamin Sisko replied.

"It's good to see Nimitz back here," Honor said, turning her gaze out the viewport to where the refitted dreadnought hung in space.

"Came straight from the yard dogs as soon as the repairs were finished," he said. He followed her gaze and nodded. "She's a good ship," he murmured.

"That she is," Honor agreed. "Take care of her, Ben. She holds a lot of memories, for me and the admiral both."

"I know," he nodded. "I'll do my best."

* * *

"I must say again that I do not believe it is the work of the Shadows," Shai Alyt Branmer said calmly. "The technology is nothing like what the legends speak of, and surely, the Vorlons would have warned us if another Shadow War was upon us."

He had been making this argument for many months. It was futile, he knew, but he had to at least try.

"And I believe that you are mistaken, Shai Alyt," Alyt Sineval said. He didn't -- quite -- sneer.

"Alyt Sineval speaks truly," Satai Rienn of the Warrior Caste interjected before Branmer could react. "We have not had contact with the Vorlons in many years. We would do better to assume it is and prepare falsely than to assume it is not and be caught unawares. You yourself have said that the humans are receiving aid, and who else but the Shadows could provide technology to rival that of the Vorlons' chosen? We must send the full weight of our warriors against the humans and crush them now! Before their masters reveal themselves!"

Alyt Neroon frowned. He was the Shai Alyt's second in command, and he understood Branmer's skepticism. He himself had reviewed the data, and none of it suggested that the Shadows had had a hand in the humans' upgrades. All the new technology the humans were using... the aesthetics of it were just as distinctly utilitarian, ugly, and human as what they had started the war with.

In fact, Neroon doubted Sineval or Rienn genuinely believed the humans were aided by the Shadows either. There were few, if any, of the Warrior Caste who believed the Shadows would ever truly return. Sineval wanted revenge; he had been humiliated at Cyrus III, the first Minbari Alyt to ever retreat from the humans without even destroying a single human ship. Satai Rienn, on the other hand, almost seemed to revel in the bloodshed. Neroon knew not why, but there was no denying the delight she had taken in their crushing advance in the early part of the war.

Branmer knew this too. Moreover, he was almost certain he knew exactly what Sineval would suggest. The humans had built up a mighty fleet at Cyrus III, increasing their military presence and fortifications there after each of the four previous attacks: Sineval's first two disastrous attacks, another attack led by Alyt Shakiri who had hoped to reap the glory, and a reconnaissance in force that Branmer had sent Neroon on. Sineval would almost certainly recommend smashing the concentration of forces with an equally mighty fleet, crippling the humans with a single stroke and incidentally redeeming Sineval -- who, of course, would lead the attack due to his previous experience with and intimate knowledge of the defenses there -- of the perceived shame of being defeated there twice.

Such a folly stemmed more from courage, pride, and wishful thinking than from practical sense, and perhaps Branmer's origins in the Religious Caste allowed him to see things his fellows of the Warrior Caste were blind to.

It had become quite obvious to him that their victories before Cyrus III had stemmed not from a greater will or superior tactics and strategies. The humans had proven that they at least matched the Minbari's will, fighting like a cornered beast, doomed... but determined to make the Minbari bleed for their victory. The humans had also proven their cunning, first when they destroyed Drala Fi, then at Cyrus III. No, it had become obvious to Branmer that the Minbari's advantages over the humans had been pure hardware -- their until-now impenetrable stealth and the superior range and destructive power of their weapons -- both of which the humans had now learned to counter or match.

From a strategic standpoint, it would be better to bypass Cyrus III entirely and strike at Sinzar and go from there through Proxima to Earth itself. The fleet at Cyrus III would have to then choose between leaving the settlements there unprotected, splitting and weakening their forces, or simply standing by and allowing the Minbari to take the fight to their very homeworld.

Branmer knew this, but he would not say it. It would do no good, for the rest of the Warrior Caste would simply dismiss it as cowardice, declare him unfit to lead the Minbari in war, and promote someone else -- someone thick-headed enough to actually think that attacking that fleet was a good idea -- to Shai Alyt.

"I say," Sineval declared, "we should take the bulk of our forces and smash the human fleet at Cyrus III! They have concentrated their forces there, and with a single stroke, we can win this war and then wipe the humans out at our leisure!"

Almost word for word. Branmer suppressed a resigned sigh. He was hardly infallible, but he wished his read on Sineval had been less accurate.

"I agree," Satai Rienn said. "It is time we remind these humans just who they are dealing with."

* * *

"No other race has ever been able to stand up to the Minbari!" G'Kar declared. "Not even the Centauri! This is our chance! If we aid the humans now, then we can secure their help and finally avenge ourselves on the Centauri! Why can't you see that?"

"We have too few ships," Councillor Kha'Mak of the Second Circle of the Kha'Ri argued. "If we attack the Minbari, their counterattack will surely destroy us, and even if they do not attack us, the Centauri no doubt will."

"If we help them now, they will help us later," G'Kar insisted. "We are the only ones who-"

"If we help them now, we may not have a later!" Kha'Mak retorted.

"The Minbari will not attack us, not yet," G'Kar shook his head. "It is a holy war for them. They will not stop until either every human is dead or every Minbari is."

"So you would have us engage in genocide?"

"That is not what I meant!"

"Even if the humans can defeat the Minbari, even if the Minbari would choose not attack us, and even if we could convince the rest of the Kha'Ri to go along with this, just where do you propose we get the ships, G'Kar?" Kha'Mak demanded. "Our borders are barely secure. The Centauri would pounce on us in our moment of weakness, and within a generation, freedom would be nothing more than a memory for Narn!"

"I see," G'Kar bowed his head. "You are right. Very well. I shall speak no more of it."

* * *

Emperor Turhan of the Centauri Republic placed the report on the desk before him and leaned back in his seat, considering its contents. It was not the grand throne he used to receive visitors or for formal occasions; that ostentatious piece of furniture remained in the opulent, cold, and drafty throne room. Rather, it was an old, well-worn chair that was far more comfortable than the throne.

The humans were doomed. Anyone who had seen the opening massacres of the Earth-Minbari War could see that and know it in their hearts. They refused to give up, though, fighting valiantly with even greater strength, holding out for months where any other race would have given in to despair and folded within weeks. He knew that, even among his cynical people, there were those who wept for the humans. There were even a few impetuous young nobles -- armored with the ever-present youthful sense of invulnerability -- who had petitioned their houses to aid the humans in their hopeless gesture of defiance. But the humans were still doomed.

Then the news of Drala Fi's destruction came. The Minbari flagship had outrun the rest of its fleet to perform lightning raids on the humans' very home system, only to suddenly be destroyed. For a long moment, the galaxy held its breath. Details had not been forthcoming, but it had looked like it might be a turning point in the war... but no, the Minbari continued their slaughter of the humans unchecked and with even greater fury.

Until they went to Cyrus III. The humans had driven off the Minbari. The galaxy had written it off as another fluke, an accident of Minbari overconfidence, human underhandedness, and sheer luck, much like the destruction of Drala Fi.

Then the humans did it again.

Coincidence, of course. The Minbari must have gotten predictable and walked into another trap.

And again.

That was when the Centauri began to take notice. The report Emperor Turhan had been reading had been of the Minbari's fourth failed attack on the planet, though it had not appeared to be a serious attempt... and he began to wonder.

If the humans could defeat the Minbari, then they could be a valuable ally. Their actions in the Dilgar War showed that their expansionistic goals were limited to uninhabited planets. If the Centauri Republic threw themselves in with the humans, and the humans were victorious...

He dismissed the idea. No. It would be better to risk missing an opportunity by standing on the sidelines than to gamble everything by taking sides. He set the report aside.

"Turhan?"

Only one person would have both the right and the nerve to call the Emperor of the Centauri Republic by name, and he smiled to greet her, "Morella. How are you, dear?"

"I am well, husband."

It was, like most (if not all) Centauri weddings, a political marriage, but they had learned to develop some affection for each other. Of course, entirely aside from her family's connections, Turhan had married her for her gifts.

Her gifts.

"Tell me, Morella," he said. "What do you see of the humans?"

She closed her eyes.

"I see... paths to the future. Where once there were two, there are now three. Light and dark and grey. The two are old, well-worn paths... but the humans... they will blaze the third... and all the galaxy shall follow."

* * *

It was with a heavy heart that Shai Alyt Branmer surveyed the fleet assembled before him. It was truly a mighty fleet, with over five hundred Sharlin war cruisers and nearly twice as many Tinashi war frigates. More than that were the twelve Shargoti heavy battlecruisers. The Shargoti was a new design, with superior armor and a greater weapons loadout than the Sharlin; with the technology the humans had displayed at Cyrus III, they had been rushed into production. It was the largest single fleet assembled by the Minbari since the Great War. True, the Minbari Federation still had more warships, but most of the other ships were required right where they were. Some were guarding the systems claimed by the Minbari or under Minbari protection, stripped of their support fleets of Tinashis, while others were held by the Anla'shok, who claimed to have none to spare.

The only other ships that could be spared had another mission, and Branmer silently prayed for Neroon. It was a mission he refused to trust to any other, and it had taken a great deal of finesse to convince the leaders of the Warrior Caste to support it.

Alyt Sineval's Trigati was, of course, part of the fleet's lead element. He had tried, unsuccessfully, to take command of the entire operation, but Branmer had brooked no argument. A fleet this size demanded a Shai Alyt's personal attention, and he had no intention of delegating command to someone so blinded by personal outrage.

But then, he supposed, the very fact that they were fighting this war spoke loudly of how much the Minbari people as a whole could be blinded by outrage.

"It is time," Branmer said. He glanced at his communications officer and said, "Tell Alyt Sineval that he is to begin leading the first element out."

* * *

The bar was called the Jump Point. Since the military build-up here at Cyrus III began, it had become the most popular bar among EarthForce personnel, particularly the gropos. The lighting and music was just right for a soldier to unwind after a day of absolutely boring and pointless drills and patrols on a planet that would probably get hit by orbital bombardment if the Minbari ever broke through the fleet anyway.

"I still think it's a dumb move," declared PFC Allen Tetsumoto. "Not saying I don't like it, but... we've got a third of the fleet over our heads. This place is better defended than Earth."

PFC Michael Garibaldi shrugged, "Way I hear it, intel's got them figured out: They're a bunch of fanatical whackos on a crusade."

"So?"

"So," Garibaldi said, "what's a fanatical nutjob on a mission from God gonna do when someone thwarts him?"

"Try again," Tetsumoto nodded slowly as understanding took hold. "They're going to keep coming until they either take this place or can't fight anymore."

"Exactly," Garibaldi said, resisting the urge to take a long pull from his beer. "So we draw a line, right here. This far, no further."

Tetsumoto chuckled and held up his drink, "At least until we kick their bonehead asses all the way back to Minbar!"

"Hear hear," Garibaldi said, clinking his drink against Tetsumoto's.

"Hear hear!" the rest of the bar's patrons echoed him, lifting their drinks in kind.

As long as we can hold it, Garibaldi silently corrected Tetsumoto, and as long as the boys upstairs can keep the boneheads at bay. God, I know you watch after fools and madmen. Well, just take a look at us, risking everything for everyone. Don't get much more foolish or crazier than that.

* * *

Captain John Harriman of the Hyperion-class heavy cruiser EAS Enterprise sat in his ship's command chair. Enterprise had gone back to Earth for a major refit after the second wave of reinforcements arrived after the Second Battle of Cyrus III. They had missed Third Cyrus during the refit, but after they returned, they had acquitted themselves well in Fourth Cyrus. Enterprise underwent the standard Hyperion-class refit established after Hermes's return, which added a magnetic lens and a particle beam option to the forward heavy lasers and did away with the rest of the wide variety of energy weapons in favor of an all particle beam armament (excepting the new combination cannon) which incorporated the superior refinements brought back by Hermes. In addition, she had also had had her fusion reactors replaced by a reflex furnace, which allowed for a pinpoint barrier system.

The reflex furnaces were one of the simpler pieces of technology to duplicate, but the limited supply of protoculture cells -- only what Hermes had brought back in her holds in the few runs she'd made between Earth Alliance space and the Pegasus galaxy -- meant that EarthForce wasn't going to be converting all their ships to reflex furnaces any time soon.

Enterprise was currently running picket duty, halfway between Cyrus III and the likely jump zone. The last Minbari attack had been more like a measured probe to test their defenses than a reckless assault like the previous three, so although Hermes had those wonderful gravitic sensors, Vice Admiral Sarnow wasn't about to rely solely on them with an organized and well-planned Minbari attack on the horizon.

"Multiple jump points forming, sir, scattered all over the jump zone. No IFF."

"The Minbari. So they're finally here," Harriman noted. "How many?"

His sensor operator stared at her monitor and didn't respond.

"How many, Lieutenant?"

She looked up at him, "All of them, sir."

"What?"

"There's hundreds of jump points, sir. Our sensors can't track them all."

"My God."

The Fifth Battle of Cyrus III was about to begin.

 

[Cyclone]

Breaking the Oath


Chapter Five

* * *


It was the eve of the Third Age of mankind, at the end of the Earth-Minbari War, when we faced the largest fleet assembled in centuries.


The analysts say they attacked where they did out of pride. We may never know for sure. For a fifth time, they tried to take the planet that had come to symbolize the war.


One single planet, all alone in the night.


It is the year 2247. The name of the place is Cyrus III.


* * *


"So, how's the fold drive look, Doctor Nichols?"


Dr. Carmen Nichols was a civilian technician by trade -- and a very good one, judging from her personnel jacket -- but what had guaranteed her a spot on the Pegasus mission was actually her hobby, as she was an avid follower of archaeology and xenoarchaeology. She normally worked for Interplanetary Expeditions, better known as IPX, and had a talent for reverse-engineering unfamiliar technologies. She had since become the Pegasus mission's unofficial senior fold technician.


"It's operational..." she replied, "...mostly."


"'Mostly'?" Sheridan blinked. "Define 'mostly.'"


"It'll work," she assured him, "but we had to take a few shortcuts. It'll need to cool down, so to speak. About a day, give or take a couple of hours, between folds. Any faster, and... well, the fold should still work, but we'll fry it in the process."


"All right," Sheridan nodded. "Good work. How many ships can we bring?"


"Not nearly as many as showed up," she snorted. "I'm projecting a fold bubble only about two miles across. Like I said, we had to take shortcuts."


"Good enough," he nodded.


He turned and walked away. He had another appointment to make.


Most of the raiders that had tried to attack a couple of months ago had surrendered, and that had granted them a certain amount of leniency, exempting them from capital punishment. One of them, however, had not surrendered, howling incoherently as he continued to strafe Taylor. A stray hit had disabled the stolen Karbarran fighter and left the pilot, a psychotic Garudan named Rhakishi, alive.


The Sentinel Alliance Advisory Council -- on which Sheridan unexpectedly found himself holding a temporary seat, representing the Earth Alliance -- had voted against turning him over to the Garuden Hegemony for trial. It had been a secret vote, but Sheridan had voted for turning him over; the last thing he wanted was to have a trial delaying his return to Earth space.


The trial, it turned out, had been pretty much open and shut. The raider captain's testimony indicated that the target was the cache, officially Earth Alliance property, which gave EA laws precedence for sentencing, which meant Death of Personality.


Sheridan, however, was legally required to officially witness the execution, which is where he was heading right now. He approached the chamber where it would occur. Rhakishi would be mind-wiped by a Tirolian mind probe; it was a more advanced version of the clone-tutors once used in Zentraedi cloning tanks. The equivalent device the EA used for mindwipes had been developed independently, but the Tirolian mind probe's superior versatility had staggering implications, some good... but mostly not.


* * *


The other members of the Council nodded in greeting as Sheridan arrived, and T'Lon gestured for him to stand near the front of the viewing room.


"Do you have any last requests?" Kanai asked.


Rhakishi ignored him, his gaze turning and locking onto Sheridan, despite the one-way mirror. "They are coming for you, human," he laughed. "They are coming for you!"


"Sedate him," Kanai ordered the nurse.


Rhakishi settled under the sedative, his breathing slowing to an even pace as the biotechnician flipped the switch, wiping Rhakishi's mind.


* * *


"You're staying?" Sheridan frowned. "Why?"


"Because..." Belmont replied hesitantly, "...I think I've got a line on a way to get the rest of the fleet to Earth space instead of just ferrying them back in Pioneer's fold bubble over several trips." He held up a hand, "Don't... ask, okay, John? It's complicated, and you're launching in just a couple of hours."


"All right, Rick," Sheridan nodded. "I guess I'll be seeing you Earth side."


* * *


The battle had started off well, with synchronized, time on target alpha strikes punching gaping holes in the Minbari lines at ranges greater than that which the Minbari could effectively respond. Vice Admiral Sarnow had held the fleet's missiles in reserve until the Minbari closed the range; it was a risky gambit, but against Minbari stealth and point defense, it had proven far more effective than the traditional long-range missile duels they had been built for. Although EarthForce had found a hole in Minbari stealth, they could not tie the missiles into that network, rendering their guidance systems ineffective, even if the Minbari's EM output didn't burn out their electronics. Sarnow's decision to use them at close range in a single massive volley had overwhelmed the Minbari's point defenses and ripped the Minbari's remaining vanguard to shreds. The close range had reduced the effectiveness of both Minbari stealth and point defenses. It also forced the Minbari to quickly switch their weapons to point defense tasks, giving the fleet some breathing room right when they needed it, since the Minbari, like most civilizations and definitely unlike the EA, did not have dedicated point defense guns.


However, the Minbari outnumbered the Cyrus III Task Force three to one, and the battle was beginning to grow desperate. Earth Alliance fighters -- mostly starfuries retrofitted with shadow cloaks, though there were a few shadow veritechs and a rapidly dwindling number of standard starfuries in the mix too -- dueled with Minbari fighters, both sides forced to rely on visual targeting.


With Hermes's gravitic sensors tied into the fleet tactical net and a select few capital ships that been retrofitted with the large-scale shadow cloaks, the Earth Alliance had a technological edge, but they had all their eggs in one basket, and many of their ships hadn't been refitted at all.


Benjamin Sisko gripped his armrest as another fusion blast struck Nimitz. He glanced at his status display. Nimitz was hurt, badly. They'd lost the starboard half of their forward batteries, along with primary fire control on their port broadside, and a quarter of the ship was depressurized. And that last blast had just taken out their port broadside's secondary fire control.


"That's it!" he snarled as the ship shuddered again. "Raise barrier system! Helm, full speed ahead! We're going to ram them with the barrier."


* * *


"Nimitz is breaking formation."


Vice Admiral Mark Sarnow bolted to his feet. He was aboard the SuperNova-class dreadnought EAS Nike. While the SuperNova may have been built on the same frame as the Nova-class, it incorporated something that even the Nova refits couldn't include, due to the sheer amount of integration required: artificial gravity. That, incidentally, included inertial compensators, which allowed the ship designers to include more powerful oversized propulsion systems, which paradoxically made the SuperNova not only the biggest and meanest ship class in EarthForce, but also the fastest and most agile, short of a fighter.


"What? Ben? What's he doing?" Sarnow demanded.


"He's... ramming them, sir. Barrier up."


Sarnow remembered the briefings on the barrier technology. He had seen the old footage from the first two times the barrier had been used in combat by Earth forces, aboard the SDF-1 -- they never _did_ get around to naming that ship; the Zentraedi attack had interrupted the christening ceremony, and by the time they had a chance to name her, she was officially decommissioned -- and both of those times, the barrier had overloaded. That same tendency had been used by the UEEF on a few rare occasions to their advantage, both in the Sentinels War and the Haydonite War, but they weren't as well-documented as what had happened in the Ontario Quadrant or the Zentraedi mobile command fortress.


"Order all ships and fighters to pull away from Nimitz," he said. "They are to restrict themselves to long-range support for Nimitz only."


* * *


Shai Alyt Branmer of the Star Riders clan watched as the human ship charged the thickest of their formation. For a moment, he wondered what the humans aboard that ship hoped to do, for they had already crippled its weapons, and it had become evident early in the battle that the humans' shield technology prevented them from firing.


His question was answered when the human ship rammed the Alati. The energy shield shattered the Sharlin, which vanished in a fiery explosion as its quantum singularity core was breached... and the human ship kept on coming.


"Rakari group, concentrate fire on that ship," he ordered. The Rakari was one of the new Shargoti heavy battlecruisers. He had to hope the shield could be overloaded, or else it would ram its way through the fleet.


He had no idea just how bad an idea that was.


* * *


"Mister Paris," Sisko addressed his helmsman, "find me another target, and keep us moving deeper into the enemy formation. I want as many of them as possible between us and our lines."


"You got it, sir," Lt. Thomas Paris nodded as he vectored Nimitz toward a tight cluster of war cruisers led by one of the new big ships.


* * *


Alyt Sineval was infuriated. These humans simply refused to lie down and die, and now, they mocked him with such insulting defenses. The ship he was facing was, in fact, EAS Kratos, a SuperNova-class dreadnought. The omni-directional barrier system's limited flexibility had been amply demonstrated at First Cyrus, when EAS Nimitz had been unable to do more than serve as a decoy after raising her barrier. Later refits and all SuperNovas included the pinpoint barrier system in order to correct this oversight, and Kratos was equipped with the latest version of the control software, which tied the pinpoint barrier control into her interceptor grid and granted the computer selective activation of the E-Web. This gave the pinpoint barrier a much lower error rate than the manual control once used in pre-Oath ships and maximized efficiency.


Which meant, essentially, that the Minbari's shots had to overcome four interlocking layers of defense: First, they had to run the gauntlet of the interceptor grid, which could literally shoot them out of space; second, they had to avoid the roving energy discs of the pinpoint barrier system, which were always moving synergistically to stop what the interceptor grid could not; third, if the interceptor control computer calculated that the attack would bypass the interceptor bolts and pinpoint barriers, it flash-activated the E-Web in the target area, dispersing the attack over a wide area; and fourth, they had to penetrate Kratos's thick armor... which, in turn, consisted of several layers of varying materials, including a thick external layer of an ablative coating once used on pre-Oath mecha and ships.


This coating, applied like a clear paint in thousands of microthin layers over the ship's hull, was not designed to resist damage. Instead, it easily flaked off and vaporized in layers... and took a great deal of the attack's energy with them, leaving the underlying multi-layered matrix of hard armor virtually untouched by fusion blasts and lessening the effect of the first few seconds of even the powerful neutron beams. It degraded quickly and took a great deal of time and effort to apply, but it increased the ship's combat survivability dramatically.


Needless to say, effective shots were few and far between, which led to Sineval's current emotional state as he pondered how to destroy the human ship that opposed him.


* * *


"Admiral, transmission from Hermes."


Sarnow nodded and accepted the transmission, "Commander Lochley, what is it?"


"We're losing, Admiral," she said bluntly. "We're putting up a good fight, but they're going to be able to overrun us with numbers alone. Request permission to take Hermes out and engage with the synchro cannon."


"Permission denied," Sarnow said, shaking his head. "Ben's out there with a barrier about to overload, and I don't want to risk losing the grav sensors. Hermes stays right where she is, Commander."


"Understood, sir."


* * *


"Captain, Engineering," Cmdr. Brian Cowen's Irish-accented voice came across Nimitz's intraship comm.


"How's the barrier system holding up, Commander?" Sisko asked.


"Not good, Captain," Cowen replied "I figure, another ten minutes of this, and she'll overload. I'm evacuating the immediate area."


"Understood, Commander."


Sisko turned his attention back to the battle as they approached the big battlecruiser. The Minbari ship poured energy into Nimitz's barrier, and just before they rammed the ship... the barrier overloaded.


* * *


Branmer watched in fascinated horror as the human ship appeared to explode, engulfing the Rakari, three Sharlins, and several Tinashis in an expanding sphere of fiery destruction. Stunned amazement and a small dose of fear was added when the gigantic ball of energy faded... and revealed the Earth ship, apparently unharmed.


Movement from the corner of his eye in the virtual display caught his attention, and he turned his gaze to another ship. It was a unique design, with a spinal-mounted laser that had been stabbing through the fleet with lethal accuracy throughout the battle, but they had been unable to attack it effectively, as its screening elements had proven quite stubborn, and it had those strange, small, mobile energy shields protecting it.


It was now charging for its sister ship, with its energy shields focused on its bow. What was it doing?


* * *


"Sisko to Engineering, damage report."


"Sir," Cowen replied, "you really don't want to know."


"Can we get the barrier back?"


"Got some duct tape?" Cowen quipped. "Let me just say this, sir: The compartment the shield generator was in has expanded to about ten percent over its original size, with lots of paint burning on the outside of the compartment. I have it vented to space to try to choke the fires, but until we get into drydock, we're not getting the barrier online. If the jump drive still works, I'd be quite surprised."


A slightly maniacal look crept into Sisko's eyes as an idea gelled in his mind.


* * *


Vice Admiral Sarnow and Capt. Sisko were not the only ones to study the old pre-Oath records. Capt. Marylin Grant of the EAS Cyclops had been studying them as well.


Cyclops was built on a Nova-class frame. It was equipped with an extremely powerful spinal-mounted laser cannon that had been salvaged during the Dilgar War. No one was sure exactly where it came from, and few were willing to ask, though the Hyach markings found on it made some conclusions inevitable.


Before Hermes had returned, Cyclops had been pretty much a failure, as there were severe problems with the cooling system, but the data brought back by the Garfish had corrected that, along with providing a few other upgrades. During the battle, Cyclops had been sniping at the Minbari to lethal effect from behind her screen, but with Nimitz now trapped and probably helpless in the center of the formation, Grant decided to pull another maneuver out of the history books.


Right now, she was working on her own variation of the Daedalus Maneuver used in the First Robotech War. By focusing the pinpoint barriers to the bow of the ship, she made a nearly impenetrable and indestructable ram. By leaving an opening in the barrier, she was able to fire the spinal-mount laser into her targets, spearing them, weakening them, and crashing through anything that got between her ship and Nimitz.


* * *


"No good, Captain," Cowen shook his head. "Jump drive's live, but we don't have enough power yet to open a jump point."


"Damn," Sisko frowned. "What's Cyclops's ETA?"


"Ten minutes, Captain."


Sisko slumped his shoulders, "Let's hope we live that long."


* * *


Lochley's gaze bore down on the fold technician.


"Are you sure you've got the calculations, right?"


"Yes, ma'am!" the technician stammered nervously.


"All right, then," she said. "Helm, take us out. Engineering, prepare for fold."


* * *


Sarnow frowned at the tactical display. Now Hermes was breaking formation.


"Get me Hermes," he ordered.


"Hermes here."


"Lochley, what are you up to?" he glowered.


"Watch and see, Admiral," she replied. Her next words were muffled, as though she were speaking to someone else, but Sarnow heard them clearly enough. "Commence fold."


"No!" Sarnow half-rose and slammed his fist into his armrest as the transmission died.


* * *


A fold drive was nothing like a jump drive. Jump drives functioned by opening a gateway into hyperspace, which allowed a ship to travel from normal space to hyperspace and back, using hyperspace as a shortcut to wherever they were going. A fold drive, on the other hand, literally folded space until the departure point and the destination were one and the same, exchanging one sphere of matter for another... something that Cmdr. Elizabeth Lochley was taking advantage of.


Hermes's fold drives engaged, folding the ship to Nimitz's exact position, whisking the crippled dreadnought to the dubious safety of Cyrus III's orbit, behind EarthForce's fleet.


"Open fire, all weapons," Lochley ordered. "Target that big ship and ready the synchro cannon!"


Hermes was a Garfish-class light cruiser, synchro refit, and she was armed with her forward ventral triple particle beam turret and an array of smaller point defense turrets. Although her real firepower came from the synchro cannon mounted within her hull, the triple turret was still quite an effective anti-ship weapon.


* * *


Branmer did not know what the second sphere of light was, but it was apparent what the results were. The crippled human ship had somehow been replaced by a smaller, fresh ship of unknown design that began firing a triple cannon turret moments after the sphere faded. When the ship's maw opened and unleashed a fearsome beam of energy that speared another Shargoti, that was when he understood the threat it posed.


"All available ships, target that ship!"


* * *


"Cyclops to Hermes, what's your status?" Capt. Grant asked as her ship came upon the other ship. Both EA ships had been badly damaged, Hermes from being caught in the middle of the Minbari formation and Cyclops from the strafing shots to her sides, belly, and back as they blasted and rammed their way toward Hermes.


That the gravitic sensor feed had died not long ago did not bode well.


"Sensors are out," Lochley replied. "Synchro cannon's out. We're all out of tricks here."


"Cyclops, Hermes, this is Admiral Sarnow," broke in a third voice. "Get the hell out of here, you two!"


"Don't have to tell me twice," Grant muttered. She glanced over, "As soon as we're with Hermes, open up a jump point. And see if you can open it up right in the boneheads' formation, while you're at it."


"Aye, Captain."


* * *


As the jump point opened, it shredded and destroyed two Sharlins and three Tinashis.


The humans' tenacity impressed Branmer. He was a good tactician and strategist -- it was why he had been raised to the rank of Shai Alyt and given command of the war -- but that was not his true calling. His skill stemmed not from any great insight into strategy or military operations, but rather, it was because he understood how people's minds worked on a level that tended to escape those raised in the Warrior Caste. The humans had, time and again, proven themselves a daring, resourceful, and tenacious people, and this last stunning string of maneuvers -- maneuvers no sane warrior would attempt -- was simply another example of that.


It was almost a pity the humans had to be exterminated. This was a holy war, but he suspected they would have been a fascinating species to study.


He turned his attention back to the battle and noted with some puzzlement that the humans seemed to be having difficult engaging them again. Their accuracy had degraded sharply.


He wondered what that meant... and prayed Neroon's assault on the home planet would go well.


* * *


Author's Postscript:


REALLY long chapter this time, but wow, what a ride, huh?


Some terminology, just in case it's needed, either now or in the future.


UEEF: United Earth Expeditionary Force. Shadow Chronicles has officially retconned this name for what was until recently known as the Robotech Expeditionary Force.


UEG: United Earth Government. This is the overarching political body that ruled Earth and the human colonies during much of the Robotech era.

 

[Cyclone]

Breaking the Oath


Chapter Six

* * *


It was the eve of the Third Age of mankind, after the Great Oath was broken. It was the year we repaid our debt.


The Sentinels would stand with the humans once more, and victory seemed possible now, where before there was only the certainty of destruction. One ship would lead the charge to defend the humans.


One mighty flagship, never alone, even in the darkest night.


It is the Earth year 2247. The name of the ship is Pioneer.


* * *


G'Kar brooded. He was aboard G'Lan, a G'Quan-class heavy cruiser, the only ship he had been able to acquire, despite calling in every favor owed him. They were currently en route to the humans' home star system. The crew was a skeleton crew made up of volunteers who knew what they were going into: almost certain death.


He had not, despite his best efforts, been able to convince the rest of the Kha'Ri to bring the full might of the Narn Regime in on the humans' side, but they were prepared to let him have one ship. They probably intended to declare him rogue if the Minbari won, while taking advantage of his presence if the humans won. His failure at arranging a peace negotiation between the humans and the Minbari still bothered him, and a part of him was afraid that all his talk of earning the humans' aid against the Centauri was merely a smokescreen... that he was dooming this ship and her crew for the sake of a guilty conscience and not for the sake of Narn.


Officially, they were carrying a shipment of weapons sold to the humans and were to offer to help transport civilians away from Earth. Unofficially, they were there to lend one more ship and a few more guns to the humans' struggle for survival.


"Sir, we have a sensor contact coming in low on our starboard side."


"What?" he turned in surprise. "Can we identify it? Is it Minbari?"


"It's a Drazi Sunhawk, sir."


"The Drazi?" G'Kar blinked. "Why would they be heading for Earth? Contact them."


"This is Drokan, captain of the private yacht Flameseeker," came the deep rumbling voice of the Drazi captain.


'Private yacht'? G'Kar thought, his brow shooting for the ceiling. That must be the most blatant lie I've ever heard told.

How anyone could calmly claim a 350-meter-long cruiser was a "private yacht" was beyond G'Kar. It certainly took courage to make such a ludicrous claim. Then again, courage was one thing the Drazi were known for having little shortage of.


It seemed someone else had chosen to skirt treason in order to do what was right.


"This is G'Kar, aboard the, ah, Narn Regime armed freight ship G'Lan. Might I invite you aboard, Captain Drokan? I believe we have... much in common."


* * *


"All hands, prepare for fold," Sheridan said quietly, glancing out the bridge viewports to the blue sphere that he was fighting to protect. As soon as they'd arrived, they'd been challenged, and the president herself had called him on Gold Channel, informing him of the situation at Cyrus III. "Have all the Sentinel ships maintain position within the fold sphere. Navigation, plot a fold to the Cyrus system."


"Bridge, Engineering," came Cmdr. Leeds's voice; Sheridan could hear the fold drive powering up over the comm. "Sir, I thought Doctor Nichols made it clear we'd fry the fold drive if we folded this quickly."


"She did, Commander," he replied. "But the president has just informed me that a massive Minbari fleet has a third of EarthForce tied up at Cyrus III, and the prospects there don't look good. That's a day and a half, two days away by hyperspace at best."


"Understood, Captain."


"All ships are maintaining position."


"Commence fold."


* * *


When the Sentinel fleet arrived, it threw the Minbari fleet into confusion.


During Col. Edward's attempted coup d'etat, Pioneer's forward twin reflex cannons had been heavily damaged and replaced by a pair of synchro cannons. They had not actually been removed, however, and had in fact been repaired to operational capacity. During the following Haydonite War, Admiral Hunter had ordered power to the synchro cannons manually disengaged and reactivated the long-dormant reflex cannons, tearing the ship's bow apart. Repairs had been made, and the synchro cannons had never been reinstituted, even after they had found a counter to the disruptor wave. That was the incarnation of Pioneer that had been waiting for the Pegasus mission in the cache.


Massive twin beams of pure destruction slashed a deadly swathe through the Minbari fleet, destroying dozens and damaging hundreds of Minbari ships with a single volley.


A split-second later, the rest of the Sentinel fleet added their own voices to the chorus of devastation. Karbarran mass drivers belched fractional-cee transuranic sabot shells, and Tirolian particle beams lanced out in a deadly storm of fire. Garudan mindbeams channeled pure psionic power into deadly lances of energy that slashed the Minbari formation, even as the Spherian guns spat crystalline shards that struck the Minbari ships, then morphed and attacked with primitive minds of their own.


And here and there, a Perytonian ship would dart around, occasionally lashing out with a single purple beam that would slice through Minbari armor like a hot knife through butter.


* * *


Captain K'Don of the SAS Hayes felt his ship shudder under another impact and resisted the urge to unleash a savage laugh. His people may have been builders, but this was where he belonged, in the heat of battle.


"We've lost pressure from Layers One and Two, Bands Nine through Sixteen, Sectors Three through Five!"


"Casualties?" he demanded.


"Seventeen!"


"Return fire!" he roared. "Maximum barrage! All secondary weapons, fire at will!"


"We have three Minbari cruisers approaching, sixty degrees relative, ten degrees below the plane!" reported Inze.


"Helm, hard to starboard, sixty degrees, down plane ten degrees! Guns, ready the mass drivers for salvo fire!"


As the gun cruiser spun like a top, it briefly lined up its bow with the lead Minbari war cruiser and spat out two salvos of two tiny, transuranic sabot shells at a significant fraction of light speed, penetrating the Minbari ship with ease and emerging out the other side to smash into the war cruiser behind it.


* * *


Shai Alyt Branmer watched in amazement as the attack fell apart within minutes. After the two human ships had fled, the battle had taken a turn for the better. Just before they left, the humans seemed to have difficulty targeting the Minbari ships once more, and while their fighters were no easier to detect, the capital ship battle had swung back heavily in the Minbari's favor.


And then these new ships arrived. There were no jump points. Just a sphere of light like the one that had replaced that one human ship with the other, only much larger. And the ships that appeared were unfamiliar and disparate, obviously a coalition of some sort that had chosen to aid the humans.


He glanced down as the penultimate Shargoti crumbled, punctured through and through by the new arrivals' weapons. Only one Shargoti remained, and that was his flagship.


No, they would not win this battle.


"All ships," he murmured regretfully. "Retreat."


* * *


Sineval watched gloatingly the human ship drifted listlessly, shedding lifepods in all directions. A lucky shot had touched off one of Kratos's fighter fuel bays, breaking her back, and the mighty dreadnought writhed, dying, some of her weapons still firing in a lethal death spasm as the most loyal, the most foolhardy gunners remained at their posts until the bitter end.


And then the order to retreat came.


* * *


President Levy looked up in shock, "They attacked Sinzar?"


"Yes, ma'am," Admiral Alexander nodded. "Refugees just came through the jump gate. They just wiped it out and kept moving. They've probably already hit Proxima and are on their way to Earth as we speak. The Cyrus assault was a diversion. They'll likely be here within hours."


"How many ships?" she asked.


"It's unclear," he said, "but judging from reports, I'd say there's maybe two, three hundred war cruisers, plus three of the new big ships, all with their accompanying fighters. No indication of any other support ships."


"What do we have in system? And what can we bring in in time?"


"Not enough," Alexander shook his head. "Maybe five thousand starfuries, a hundred cruisers, and fifty dreadnoughts, and only a handful are refits. We do have one SuperNova, though, EAS Macross, but that's it."


"The Grand Cannon?" she asked, looking over at General Lefcourt hopefully.


"Not even close to operational," Lefcourt replied, shaking his head. He heaved a sigh. "And even if it were, it would only cover a fraction of the planet."


"A fraction still would have been better than none," she said quietly. She turned to the admiral, "Bring them in, Hamish. Bring them all in. If we can hold them off long enough, maybe the Cyrus task force can come save us all."


* * *


Drokan was an old Drazi. He remembered the Dilgar War, and he remembered what had happened to his people when the Dilgar came. More than that, he had been an aide to the Drazi Freehold's ambassador to the League of Non-Aligned Worlds at the time, and he had witnessed how the League had fallen apart when they had needed to unite.


He was seeing the same self-serving reactions from both the leaders of his own world and the rest of the League, now that the Minbari marched on the humans. Oh, certainly, they argued that it was different this time.


"The Minbari are not like the Dilgar," they had said. "They are a peaceful people," they had said. "It was the humans who had started the war," they had said.


But the humans had also attempted to make reparations. They had tried to turn over the human who had started it. They had repeatedly offered an unconditional surrender.


And the Minbari did not listen. The humans may have started the war, but it was the Minbari who were continuing it. Just as they had against the Garmak six hundred and fifty Drazi years ago, though at least they hadn't intended to exterminate the Garmak then. They were genocidal maniacs, just like the Dilgar were.


And if they could be driven to such madness once, then they could be driven to it again. And when that happened, who would feel their unstoppable wrath then? The Narns? The Centauri? The Brakiri?


The Drazi?


And if the pattern held true, then the fate of their next victims would be even worse. First, the Garmak, their military crushed, left helpless against the Centauri. Now, the humans, to be exterminated as a species, wiped out until they are nothing but a memory. Then... what next? It was an escalation that could only lead to a level of horror that would rival the Dilgar.


No, the Minbari had to be stopped now, and if the only way to get his people to unite with the humans was to drag them into the war, kicking and screaming, then he would do it.


Besides, his people owed the humans, and the time to repay that debt was now.


There were others who agreed with him, though perhaps not quite understanding the level of thought he had put into it. It was they who now crewed Flameseeker. The other Drazi in the crew did not understand what Drokan did, how stopping the Minbari was best for all Drazi and all civilized people, but they did understand right from wrong, honor from dishonor, courage from cowardice.


There was a saying: "If you cannot do something smart, then do something right."


Only about half the crew was actually Drazi. The rest were about evenly divided between Balosians, Brakiri, and Markab, with a handful of Hyach and even Abbai filling the gaps. The Balosians were already risking the Minbari's wrath by accepting human refugees, and Drokan could not, in good conscience, ask them to risk more, but they had caught wind of his suicidal plan and insisted; had he not been short on crew, he would have refused. These others understood what Drokan did, and while they all feared going the way of the Garmak, stripped of their defenses and at the mercy of their neighbors, they also knew why they were doing this... why they must do this.


It was apparent to Drokan that the Narn, G'Kar, felt the same way, and so it was that they had devised a plan by which they would approach the humans and offer their aid... and battle plans should they arrive too late for words.


"His name is Tirk," he overheard one of his crewmembers -- who was it? Ah, yes, Tuzak -- exclaim proudly. Tuzak was an unusually large Drazi. Shipboard duty did not suit him, really, but he had a love for space that would not be denied.


"That's not a Drazi name, is it?" frowned Flameseeker's executive officer, a Brakiri woman named Resha Ak-Habil who had once hunted raiders on one of her corporation's Avioki-class cruisers, which gave her valuable combat experience. Her father had died on board the dreadnought Corumai during the Dilgar War.


"It isn't," Jumar interjected. "His wife named the boy. It means 'Don't touch me, I'm not having another child after this, ever!'"


Tuzak coughed in embarrassment.


* * *


Cmdr. Jeffrey David Sinclair -- he had been promoted for his role in training the EA's small corps of veritech pilots and devising tactics and strategies for them -- sat in the cockpit of his Shadow Alpha. In some ways, the shadow fighters weren't actually as good as starfuries against the Minbari, since their heavy missile payloads were largely ineffective against Minbari stealth, but he had grown comfortable with the durable craft, and he had a few surprises in mind.


He was going to be launching from Macross's hangar bays. The SuperNova-class dreadnought's fighter bays had been built to be flexible, able to accept either veritechs or starfuries, unlike the other ships in the fleet.


The president's voice echoed over his radio. It was being broadcast on all frequencies.


"This is the president. I have just been informed that our mid-range military bases at Sinzar and Proxima III have fallen to the Minbari advance. We have lost contact with Io and must conclude that they too have fallen to an advance force. Our military intelligence believes that the Minbari intend to bypass Mars and hit Earth directly, and the attack may come at any time. Once, we would have surrendered and begged for mercy, and we tried, many times, but now, we understand that the Minbari have none. In order to buy more time for reinforcements to arrive, we ask for the support of every ship capable of fighting to take part in the defense of our home world. Help is coming, but we need to survive until they get here. We will not lie to you. We do not believe many of you who fight will survive. We believe that most of the people who join this battle will never come home. But for every ten minutes we can delay the military advance, our reinforcements are that much closer to home. No greater sacrifice has ever been asked of a people, but I ask you now, to step forward one last time. One last battle to hold the line against the night! May God go with you all."


* * *


"The truth points to itself."


Satai Delenn wondered what that meant as the Valen'tha, mobile home for the Grey Council, followed in the wake of Alyt Neroon's advance toward the humans' home planet. Suddenly, a great light flared from ahead, though she could not see what caused it.


* * *


While the Valen'tha was too far back for the Grey Council to see what caused the light, the Minbari warriors in the forward elements of the fleet could see it clearly. A great being of light had arrived, bringing with it a fleet of ships, including one massive ship that measured a full four kilometers long.


When the war ended, there would be a great many warriors who would forsake their caste and joined the Religious Caste.


When the ships surged forward to engage the Minbari, unleashing the fury of literally hundreds -- if not thousands -- of weapons, even the most ardent of the Warrior Caste began to have doubts. Within minutes, the van of the Minbari fleet crumbled under fire from weapons that could decimate a continent.


* * *


Sinclair wasn't aware of any of this. He had acquitted himself well, even managing to rip one Minbari fighter apart with his veritech's bare hands, but he had lost. His missiles were spent, and his gun pod was a molten lump of slag half a kilometer away. Determined to stop the Minbari at any cost, he brought his fighter around to face the nearest Minbari war cruiser and hit his afterburners.


* * *


"A prisoner? Very well. Choose quickly."


Delenn looked around and saw the human fighter heading toward them, accelerating rapidly, apparently intent on ramming them. Kosh's words echoed in her thoughts: "The truth points to itself."


"That one."


* * *


G'Kar held a stoic expression as G'Lan was hammered by the Minbari. Their sensors could not detect the Minbari ships, and they were being forced to target them manually, an effort that was almost futile. The smaller and more agile Flameseeker was faring somewhat better.


"Jump points opening! It's the Centauri!"


"Whaaat?!" G'Kar sputtered as he turned to stare at G'Lan's sensor operator, who simply looked back at him, shrugged, then turned back to his console.


"Primus-class battlecruisers... Vorchan-class attack cruisers... it's the Imperial Navy!" He blinked, "They're attacking the Minbari!"


G'Kar digested that and leaned back into his seat. He had a decision to make.


"It... physically... pains me to say this," he ground out through gritted teeth, "but... do not fire on the Centauri."


Destiny is rife with moments of great change, when a single decision could determine the course of billions of lives.


One such moment had just passed.


* * *


Captain Diane Phillips clutched her armrest in a white-knuckled grip as another attack broke through Macross's defenses. The SuperNova-class dreadnought was a powerful ship, easily capable of facing a Minbari war cruiser one on one, but they had been caught in the middle of the Minbari formation and were now taking attacks from all sides as the Minbari sought to finish them off before moving against the reinforcements which, moments ago, had arrived in a flash of light like a personal delivery from God.


"Captain, we've got more incoming," her sensor operator reported. "They're attacking the Minbari."


"The Cyrus force?"


"No, ma'am. I'm reading... a Drazi Sunhawk... a Narn heavy cruiser... and two Centauri battlecruisers. They're taking a beating."


Diane frowned. What were they doing here? And why and how in the nine billion names of God were Narns and Centauri working together?!


She shook it off and opened her mouth to order a course change, when suddenly, the Minbari stopped firing.


"Captain," whispered her communications officer. "It's... I don't believe it. The Minbari... they're surrendering."


Diane slumped back into the captain's chair, "Well, I'll be damned. Three miracles in a row. Someone's lookin' out for us."


* * *


"This is President Elizabeth Levy of the Earth Alliance. We have been forced to reveal many of our secrets in this war. The Minbari are not the first to threaten the survival of the human species, and I suspect they will not be the last. Five times we have faced extinction at the hands of others, and five times we have survived. As we did before, when we faced the Children of Shadow, while standing in the twilight of oblivion, we have learned who our true friends are. And we will not forget.


"This war began out of a misunderstanding, one that nearly led to the extermination of our race. In the interest of preventing such a catastrophe from happening again -- to anyone -- the Earth Alliance and our allies in the Sentinel Alliance would like to announce the Babylon Project. The Babylon Station will be located in neutral space between several major governments. It will provide a place for us to work out our problems peacefully. It is, we believe, our last, best hope for peace."


"And so, it begins," the redhead murmured as she watched the president's speech.


A young man with unruly greenish-blond hair and reddish-brown eyes walked up behind her and placed an arm across her shoulders, "Thank you, Aunt Ariel."


"I did what I had to, Rick."


* * *


Author's Postscript:


Another long chapter, but that finishes up this part of the story.


Credit must go to Lightning_Count, since it was his fanfic, The Dilgar War, that inspired me to come up with Flameseeker and her crew.


By the way, just out of curiousity, who do you imagine speaking each of the monologues that begin each chapter?

 

[Cyclone]

What? No one wants to share on whose voice they mentally hear speaking the monologues?


Oh, well.


* * *


Interludes

* * *


It was a eve of the Third Age of mankind, a time of rebuilding and rediscovery, when an uneasy peace settled in the galaxy.


During this time, the Babylon Project went forward, but other events were clearing the way for the coming darkness. In their own ways, the Sentinels and the Minbari were preparing for it.


The Babylon Project would be our last, best hope... for peace.


It is the 2250s. It is the decade between wars.


* * *


January 10th, 2248

Narn

"G'Kar, I do not believe any of us in the Kha'Ri can honestly say we are entirely comfortable with the decisions you made at what the humans call the Battle of the Line," Kha'Mak said gently.


"I am not happy with them either," G'Kar retorted. "To have Centauri ships under my guns and not fire made me positively nauseous, but we were in rather dire straits at the time, and if the humans won -- as they did -- it would be better for us to have survived to speak our side rather than have the Centauri claim we were fighting for the Minbari."


"Yes, G'Kar," Kha'Mak nodded, "we are aware how dangerous an Earth-Centauri alliance could be, particularly with these new allies the humans have conjured. For preventing that, for ensuring that the humans would at least not unite with the Centauri against us, the people of Narn owe you a great debt."


"However, acting without permission," spoke a member of the First Circle, "without the blessing of the Kha'Ri, is something we cannot ignore, G'Kar, and we believe you would do well to take some time away from the pressures of dealing with aliens. We are therefore relieving you of your position as ambassador to the Earth Alliance."


* * *


December 2nd, 2249

Valen'tha

"The reparations these humans are demanding are outrageous!" snarled Satai Tannier. He had stepped forward as the spokesman for the Worker Caste on this issue.


"It is only right that we help them heal the wounds from our actions," Satai Delenn said. "They are our people, though they may not know it. We have committed a grievous sin, and we must do what we can to make amends."


"Then you work and make these reparations, Delenn!" Tannier snapped. "The Worker Caste cannot stand for this."


"Don't be ridiculous, Tannier," Satai Morann snorted. "This is the law, as set down by Valen. Three castes: warrior, religious, worker. They pray, we fight, you build."


"It was the Religious Caste and the Warrior Caste who brought us into the war with the humans," Tannier said, his voice biting. "It was the Religious Caste and the Warrior Caste who surrendered to the humans. But now, it is the Worker Caste who must pay back the humans for the price of your war!"


With that, Tannier spun on his heel and stormed out of the room. The other two Worker Caste members of the Grey Council paused only to glare at the other six before following.


"They are right," Delenn said quietly. "It was our decisions that led us to this, not theirs."


"But what can we do?" Satai Coplann asked helplessly. "Conquer the humans' neighbors and offer their worlds as tribute? I doubt that would go over well, and I doubt the humans would appreciate the gesture if your caste simply prayed for them."


"We already pray for them, Coplann," Delenn said, "but you are right. There is nothing we can do. It is not right. It is not fair. It merely is. Do you know, Coplann, the humans have an interesting prayer for times such as this?"


"Oh?"


"Yes," Delenn nodded. "'God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.'"


* * *


March 15th, 2250

Centauri Prime

"I think it is clear that the Emperor has lost his fire, wouldn't you say, Lord Kiro?" Antono Refa mused aloud.


"I could not agree more," Kiro nodded. "I thought things would be different. Gambling the Imperial Navy -- the entire Republic! -- against the Minbari was not the act of a timid man, and yet... and yet..." he trailed off and shook his head.


"And yet," Refa picked up the thought Kiro could not finish, deliberately misinterpreting it, "he signed a treaty with the humans, who in turn have signed one with Narn."


"That's hardly my issue, Refa," Kiro shook his head. "That treaty was a wise one. It prevents the Narns from bringing the humans and their allies in against us, people who have done what the Lion of the Galaxy never tried in its prime. They are too dangerous to fight, and the treaty will keep us safe from them."


"Then..." Refa pretended to think; he had already known from the beginning what had upset Kiro, "...you are upset he ceded the Ragesh system to the Narns, negotiating through the humans without so much as a token fight."


"The Centaurum should not stand for this!" Kiro snapped. "Had this happened a generation ago-..."


"It would never have happened a generation ago," Refa sneered. "The Republic of the last generation had teeth and the will to use them. Perhaps we should consider sharpening them again."


Kiro suddenly went very still, then slowly turned to look at him, "What are you suggesting, Refa?"


"Only to strengthen the Centaurum's resolve, Kiro," Refa said innocently. "Only that and nothing more."


*For now, at least.*


* * *


August 14th, 2251

Martian Shipyard, Dock 94

"This way, Honor," Admiral Mark Sarnow, currently part of EarthForce's Development Board, gestured as he led his guest through the shipyard. She had just finished with leave time, visiting her parents on Earth.


Rear Admiral Honor Harrington stopped and sucked in a sharp breath as she stepped out into the observation room and saw the ship. It was an impressive sight, three quarters of a mile long. Not quite as big as a dreadnought, but still impressive, perhaps a battleship or battlecruiser, and obviously a new design. It was an uneven hexagonal prism, shaped like an isoceles triangle with its corners cut off.


Sarnow turned and smiled, "Admiral Harrington, allow me to introduce you to EAS Fearless. She's the first of the new line of destroyers."


Honor stared for a long moment, then whipped her head around, "You call that a destroyer? She's almost as big as a dreadnought!" She caught herself and added belatedly, "Sir."


He nodded, "Twelve hundred, ten meters long, with shadow cloaking, a reflex furnace, artifical gravity, inertial dampers, and gravitic sensors. She's armed with thirty-six particle beam and railgun dual turrets, twenty-four heavy missile tubes, and a pair of fixed heavy combination cannons."


A so-called "combination cannon" consisted of a variable frequency laser and a particle beam cannon that both used the same barrel assembly, yielding a deadly versatility. They were based off Tirolian technology; most of the original Zentraedi warships had been equipped with combination cannons, a legacy that was still used by the Tirolian Federation today. Now, EarthForce was apparently intent on incorporating them into their newest ships.


"The combo guns are equipped with mag lenses," he continued. "They can fire a good seventy degrees off-bore. Defensively, she's got the latest pinpoint interceptor network. And if you think she's big, wait'll you see the new Orion-class heavy crusiers. Fearless is the first ship to come out of the new Maximum Upgrade Program."


She nodded in understanding. The Earth-Minbari War had showed them just how unprepared the Earth Alliance was for a war of extinction, and they knew the Haydonites would be coming back to start another one. The Maximum Upgrade Program was designed to correct that by completely rewriting EarthForce's standards.


"All right," she said, "I'll accept that, but destroyers need to be fast. Her engines are a little undersized." She pointed to the tiny thrusters mounted on the back. The thrusters were actually only slightly undersized for a dreadnought or battleship that size... but destroyers were assigned to duties that required far higher accelerations than battleships or dreadnoughts.


"We've equipped her with an experimental drive system; she'll outrun any other ship in the fleet," Sarnow replied proudly. "We've tested the basic system repeatedly, and Fearless has gone through the trial runs with no problems."


"What did you do?" she asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.


"We modified the inertial dampers," he said simply. "With the technical data from the cache and the samples we salvaged from Dilgar and Minbari ships, we were able to modify them to extend around the whole ship, reducing its effective inertia by up to eighty percent. With that, those engines will be as effective as conventional engines five times their size, and they won't give her away like the Minbari's gravitic drives."


"A fine ship."


"Glad you think so," he replied. "She's being assigned to Vega Sector. And so are you."


* * *


July 4th, 2252

Minbar

"Good. Then we will fight in the shade."


"I'm Spartacus!"


"'Theirs not to reason why,

Theirs but to do and die,

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.'"


"Ma droite est enfoncée; ma gauche cède; tout va bien: j'attaque!"


"'To the German commander: Nuts!'"


"You're on every street; you're in their homes; you've got their children! Of course they're going to fight!"


"...the day the world declared in one voice, 'We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive!' Today, we celebrate..."


"...consisting of more than four million, eight hundred thousand battle-ready warships, with the destructive force of a small nova."


"...and we will attack in full force. This may be the only chance we'll have. Good luck."


"...there isn't a single soldier in this hall today who isn't painfully aware of all the hazards that will certainly arise during the course of this mission..."


"...Admiral Hunter has called on us to spearhead a vast military operation, with the firm intention to invade and reclaim our ancestral homeland."


"Surrender on any scale is not an option."


"No greater sacrifice has ever been asked of a people, but I ask you now, to step forward one last time. One last battle to hold the line against the night! May God go with you all."


The Anla'shok Na watched as the series of short clips ended, lingering on silent footage of the death of a world. The humans called it the Rain of Death, and the sheer level of destruction he saw amazed him. It was what the Minbari had planned for the humans, and the fact that the humans could rise again from the ashes of such devastation to fight off three -- no, four -- more wars to the brink of extinction was... disquieting.


The Anla'shok had gathered much information on human culture since the end of the war, in an effort to understand them. It was a mixture of fictionalized recreations, purely fictional entertainment, historical recreations, and genuine historical footage. What he was viewing told a chilling tale. One thing that was clear to him now was how the humans were able to maintain the will to fight, despite the utterly hopeless odds until First Cyrus.


The humans did not give up simply because, when pushed against the wall, they did not know how. So long as at least one human being survived, the species would continue to fight until its dying breath.


* * *


February 28th, 2253

Space Station Independence

The newly-elected president, Luis Santiago, followed General Robert Lefcourt, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, through the gigantic factory satellite. The satellite had been folded to Venus orbit a mere month ago, after they managed to bring the fold drive online. Until then, the factory had been in operation, building ships that were ferried by fold-capable ships to Earth space.


"Mister President, may I present to you the Sentinel Alliance's new dreadnought, SAS Colossus," the general said, gesturing out the observation window. "Of course, the name's still unofficial until construction's complete and we can properly christen her."


"My, she is impressive," Santiago murmured, staring at the gigantic ship under construction. "When will construction be finished?"


"Hard to say, Mister President," Lefcourt hedged. "We've had to completely redesign her interior three times already, just from new developments in cracking and integrating new technology. Assuming no more major breakthroughs, though, we expect she'll be spaceworthy in about three years and fully operational in about five or six."


"All right," Santiago nodded. "I can see she's pretty impressive, but don't you think we're putting all our eggs in one basket with this?"


"It's a risk," Lefcourt acknowledged, "but a calculated one. When she's finished, she'll be able to take on an entire Minbari battle group, and we're refurbishing another ship we salvaged. One of our colony-finding ships stumbled across her, adrift and drained of protoculture, so we used Ark Angel to fold-tow her back. She's even bigger and better than Colossus, and she'll be flying an Earth Alliance flag not a Sentinels one. We don't exactly trust her, though, considering our history with boobytrapped alien technology."


"Perfectly understandable, General," Santiago nodded. "It's good to see humanity's safety is being secured."


* * *


October 31st, 2254

EAS Magellan

"We're being hailed."


"Let's hear it," Cmdr. William Riker said amiably.


EAS Magellan was a Garfish-class light cruiser converted for exploration. The Garfishes were vastly superior to the Explorer-class used by the EA until the Pegasus mission simply because of the once-forbidden technology they used: fold drives.


The race to find the lost colonies had been vastly helped by the records found with the cache, but reestablishing diplomatic relations with their distant cousins as well as transits between Earth space and the Pegasus galaxy had turned into a logistical nightmare, as every fold drive was in high demand. Only a few ships like Magellan could be spared for actually finding the lost colonies.


"Attention, unknown ship. This is the HMS Breslau. This system is under the protection of the Star Kingdom of Haven. Please identify yourself."


Riker cleared his throat, "Breslau, this is the Earth Alliance Starship Magellan. We're here seeking to reestablish contact with any human colonies we can find."


There was a long pause.


"Understood, Magellan. Please maintain your position while we send word to Haven."


* * *


April 19th, 2255

Sinclair Home

Jeffrey Sinclair opened the door and was greeted by an unexpected sight.


"Congratulations, Jeff," John Sheridan said, shaking his hand. "Heard you landed the B5 command and thought I'd drop by."


"Word travels fast," Sinclair smiled.


"You know how scuttlebutt is," Sheridan grinned. "Faster than tachyons."


"No kidding. I hear your father's being considered as our official ambassador there."


Sheridan held up his hands mock defensively, "Don't ask me. Dad hasn't said a word about it." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a data crystal, "Here."


"What's this?" Sinclair asked, taking the crystal.


"Just some advice," Sheridan hedged. "It'd be a good idea to make sure you're alone when you view it, though."


"I'll keep that in mind," Sinclair nodded, his mind racing as he pocketed the crystal. Something was off. He could feel it.


"Well, I'd better get going," Sheridan said, glancing at his watch.


"See you around," Sinclair called, then closed the door. He considered the unusual situation. He didn't really know Sheridan that well, only having served under him for the Pegasus mission, so it seemed strange that he would just suddenly decide to drop by. Sinclair toyed with the data crystal.


Whatever it was, it was in the crystal. Turning to his computer, he plugged the data crystal in and brought up the video file.


"Hello, Jeff," Sheridan's image spoke seriously. "I just wanted to warn you about a few things when you go to B5. Don't ask me about this, how I know it, or what it means. Just trust me, please. Beware the questions 'Who are you?' and 'What do you want?' The answers aren't as obvious as they seem... and the prices definitely aren't pleasant. Beware the name Entil'zha. The ones who use that name have a plan for you. Stay close to them... and keep an eye out for shadows. They move when you're not looking."


* * *


September 7th, 2256

Trigati

Alyt Sineval seethed as he gazed at the empty space surrounding his ship. Trigati was patrolling the Minbari side of the border between Minbari and Vorlon space. It was an utterly pointless task. The Vorlons had been their allies for generations, and the Vorlons' technology was such that, had they chosen to attack them, no patrol would ever make a difference. He knew why he was here. He was here because the Grey Council saw him as a coward, having been the only Minbari to have ever fled the humans without inflicting at least some losses.


Oh, certainly, some humans had surely perished from the damage his force had inflicted after they had stopped hiding within their shield, but it was a hollow consolation. At the First Battle of Cyrus III, the only human ship that flew into battle flew back out under its own power, and that galled Sineval. When news of the surrender had come, he had considered killing himself, but the fact was, the humans had proven themselves worthy foes, and their allies were formidable.


In reality, the Grey Council had noted his growing instability and placed him here, where his temper would cause no harm and would have time to cool.


A flicker of movement from the direction of Vorlon space caught his attention, and he took a more careful look. It was a ship, not quite like anything he had ever seen before. It was long and blocky, much like the human ships that bothered him so... but no human ship would dare cross Vorlon space.


Well, not and come out again.


This ship didn't quite look human either. It was an ominous black and red in color, and a magnified view showed a crystalline structure... and humans built ships out of ugly metals and alloys, not graceful crystal.


Given where it was coming from, it had to be a Vorlon ship. But what would the Vorlons want here?


"Receiving transmission, Alyt."


"Show me."


The display which had, until then, shown the area of space surrounding the Trigati now showed the interior of a dark room. In the center of the image was a dark-eyed Minbari with an earnest expression, and he was flanked by a pair of... well, Sineval wasn't sure what. They wore red cloaks with dark grey hoods, and all he could see within each hood was a single glowing red light.


He mentally compared them with what he knew of the Vorlons, and it only reinforced his belief. The Vorlons, it was said, wore encounter suits, and so, it appeared, did these beings.


"Greetings, Alyt Sineval of the Wind Swords Clan," the Minbari said.


"Who are you?" Sineval demanded. "What do you want?"


"You may call me Halenn," the Minbari replied. "My associates here," he nodded to the beings flanking him, "have learned of your troubles, and I was created to serve as an intermediary."


"Created"? Sineval wondered silently. Yes, indeed. Only a First One would have the ability to create a sentient being, let alone a Minbari.


"Are they... Vorlons?" he asked hesitantly.


"Every people has its dissenters, Alyt," Halenn replied, "even the First Ones. My associates believe that humanity are a threat to the Great Plan. They use the weapons of the Shadows, and they do so knowingly. The Shadows are returning, Alyt, and preparations must be made. Will you accept our aid? And if you do... what will you do with it?"


* * *


Author's Postscript:


In the highly likely event that my readers include people who don't recognize every single quote, here are the references.


"Good. Then we will fight in the shade."

--King Leonidas of Sparta (1962 movie: The 300 Spartans, which inspired the comic 300, on which the movie 300 is based).


"I'm Spartacus!"

--The captured rebel slaves (1960 movie: Spartacus).


"Theirs not to reason why,

Theirs but to do and die,

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred."

--The Charge of the Light Brigade by Alfred Lord Tennyson


"Ma droite est enfoncée; ma gauche cède; tout va bien: j'attaque!"

--line attributed to French WWI leader Ferdinand Foch; according to internet sources, it translates to "My right gives way; my left yields; everything's fine: I shall attack!"


"To the German commander: Nuts!"

--WWII Brigadier General Anthony McAuliffe at the Battle of Bastogne in response to a German demand for surrender.


"You're on every street; you're in their homes; you've got their children! Of course they're going to fight!"

--The Tenth Doctor to the Cybermen (Doctor Who: Doomsday).


"...the day the world declared in one voice, 'We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive!' Today, we celebrate..."

--Fictional U.S. President Thomas J. Whitmore (1996 movie: Independence Day). Whether this line is, in universe, taken from the movie Independence Day (made three years before the SDF-1 first crashed on Earth) or a recording of a non-fictional in-universe President Whitmore rallying troops while Dolza's Main Fleet is defolding overhead is something I'll let you, the readers, decide. Personally, I prefer the latter option.


"...consisting of more than four million, eight hundred thousand battle-ready warships, with the destructive force of a small nova."

--Zentraedi Ambassador Exedore Formo, describing the Main Fleet (Robotech: The Messenger).


"...and we will attack in full force. This may be the only chance we'll have. Good luck."

--Captain Henry J. Gloval to the SDF-1 troops and allied Zentraedi, immediately before the Rain of Death battle (Robotech: Force of Arms).


"...there isn't a single soldier in this hall today who isn't painfully aware of all the hazards that will certainly arise during the course of this mission..."

--Supreme Commander Anatole Leonard to Southern Cross troops before launching an all-out offensive against the Robotech Masters (Robotech: Triumvirate).


"...Admiral Hunter has called on us to spearhead a vast military operation, with the firm intention to invade and reclaim our ancestral homeland."

--Commander of Lt. Cmdr. Scott Bernard's Horizon-T transport ship (Robotech: Invid Invasion). In this case, the Anlashok Na is watching a recreation of the speech.


"Surrender on any scale is not an option."

--General Robert Lefcourt to senior EarthForce line officers during the Earth-Minbari War, before the Black Star victory (B5: In the Beginning, before events changed).


"No greater sacrifice has ever been asked of a people, but I ask you now, to step forward one last time. One last battle to hold the line against the night! May God go with you all."

--Earth Alliance President Elizabeth Levy to all available EarthForce personnel just before the Battle of the Line (B5: In the Beginning, part of her speech that was unaltered for this 'fic).

 

[Cyclone]

I've had this sitting on my hard drive for a while. Was hoping to actually finish it before posting, but I hit a block and finally decided to go ahead and post it anyway. Here, at least.

* * *

The Gathering (incomplete)

* * *

I was there at the dawn of the Third Age of mankind.

It began in the Earth year 2257, with the founding of the last of the Babylon stations, located deep in neutral space. It was a port of call for refugees, smugglers, businessmen, diplomats, and travelers from a hundred worlds. It could be a dangerous place, but we accepted the risk, because Babylon 5 was our last, best hope for peace.

Under the leadership of its final commander, Babylon 5 was a dream given form, a dream of a galaxy without war, when species from different worlds could live side by side in mutual respect.

Babylon 5 was the last of the Babylon stations. This is its story.

* * *

"Something wrong, Commander?" Capt. Jeffrey Sinclair asked politely.

"'Something wrong?'" Lt. Cmdr. Laurel Takashima repeated incredulously. "'Something wrong?' You could say that, Captain. This has got to be one of the worst assignments I can think of."

"Oh, it can't be that bad."

"Oh, no?" she retorted. She pointed in the general direction of her assigned post, the Gilgamesh II station, which acted as Babylon 5's bodyguard. "You try sitting out there, in a cramped little space station, with enough firepower to start or end a war, for a month at a time! And would you mind telling me why EarthForce felt we needed a reflex cannon?!"

"They didn't brief you?" Sinclair frowned.

"No," she shook her head. "They told me I'd be briefed on site, and you're the first senior officer to show up since I got here that has clearance to know we even have a reflex cannon over there."

"It's because of what happened to B4 and G1," Sinclair replied.

"I thought they disappeared," she frowned. "Something about a fold accident."

"That's the official story, Commander, but that's not what happened," Sinclair replied darkly. "The recovery crews found debris from G1 and an unidentified ship. Someone came in, blew G1 to scrap, then folded out with B4."

"I see," she nodded. "You think it could be..." she trailed off meaningfully.

"I don't know," Sinclair said with a shrug. "I'm not cleared to know what they found on the attacker, but if it is them... we'll be ready."

"I hope so, Captain."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to meet Ambassador Kosh."

"What?" Takashima blinked. "I thought he wasn't supposed to be here for another two days?"

"He's early," Sinclair replied. "Ivanova's going nuts over it. The Sentinel ambassadors just arrived too, so traffic's getting pretty hectic out there."

"Figures," she scowled. "I've got to head back to G2 soon myself. I'm gonna be stuck for hours in that mess."

"I'll see if I can get Susan to expedite."

* * *

The Centauri ambassador cradled his drink and looked out the "window." Babylon 5 had some peculiar amenities, and the "window" was among the odder ones, though one that Londo Mollari suspected would soon become very popular. It was just something no one but the humans had ever come up with.

The entire station had been built with old Earth technology, much to Londo's (and probably the other ambassadors') disappointment. The station did not even have proper artificial gravity, simulating it through rotation. There were no technological secrets to be garnered from the station, but that made the "window" no less innovative. It was a screen built into the wall. It could be set with recorded data (Londo intended to get some footage from his estate on Centauri Prime as soon as possible) or be hooked to one of many cameras or even images transmitted from cameras on Earth. Right now, he was watching through one of the station's external cameras as the ship that had brought the Sentinel ambassadors to Babylon 5 departed. The ship was a small ship, a mere 180 meters or so in length. It was a light cruiser the humans had taken from their secret cache, its hangar bay replaced by passenger berthings for missions such as this.

"Look at that, Vir," Londo said, breaking the silence. "You see that little ship? It is a human ship, and it is about to go to Earth. It will get there faster than any ship the Centauri Republic could make at the height of its power, and it will do so without even bothering with a jump gate, despite its size."

The ship vanished in a bubble of light, and Londo turned to look at his aide, who remained silent, not wishing to interrupt the ambassador, "I think... I think it is fairly obvious that we are witness to a new age in this galaxy. A human age. I only hope the Republic can adapt to this age and survive the transition." Remembering his drink, he took a long pull of it and said, "The Earthers have changed the universe, Vir. All because they were too stubborn to die, no matter how many times others tried to wipe them out. No matter how many times they tried to wipe themselves out, for that matter." Londo turned to a small table and refilled his glass, "I wonder what would have happened had we not removed the Xon from existence. Ah, well, no matter."

He held up his glass, "A toast, Vir, to a new age." That said, Londo drained the glass.

* * *

The reception was quite a crowded affair. First, there were the ambassadors of all the minor powers in the galaxy, the members of the League of Non-Aligned Worlds and the newly-founded After Earth Confederacy. The After Earth Confederacy -- or AEC -- was a loose organization consisting of the human colonies that had lost contact with Earth after the Oath; most were not willing to join the Earth Alliance -- at least not yet -- and wound up forming their own formidable faction.

Then there were the ambassadors who represented the major non-Sentinels races: Delenn of the Minbari Federation, Londo Mollari of the Centauri Republic, Kha'Tar of the Narn Regime, and the newly arrived Kosh of the Vorlon Empire.

There were also the Sentinel ambassadors. Two of them -- Baldan of the Spherian Assembly and Terak of the Perytonian Covenant -- had been the assigned representatives to the Sentinels Alliance Advisory Council and had resigned their positions there to become ambassadors to Babylon 5. The rest consisted of David Sheridan of the Earth Alliance, D'Ron of the Karbarran Union, Lakan of the Garudan Hegemony, Tala of the Praxian Republic, Ariana Laplamiz of the Tirolian Federation... and Ariel of the Invid.

The Vorlon and Invid ambassadors avoided each other throughout the reception, but only the security chief, Michael Garibaldi, took notice. As the reception wound down to a close, Kosh drifted over and blocked the redhead's exit. The eye-like opening on his encounter suit's headpiece contracted and dilated repeatedly, but she merely glared at him and waited for him to let her pass.

"You do not belong here," Kosh said finally, his voice low.

"You gave up any right you may have had to decide our actions long ago," Ariel replied icily.

"You risk the circle."

"The circle will tend to itself."

"You do not understand."

"That is a three-edged sword, Ambassador."

Garibaldi walked up to them. "Is there a problem, Ambassadors?" he asked mildly.

"No, Mister Garibaldi, no problem," Ariel shook her head. "Ambassador Kosh and I just had a few things to say to each other, that is all. We were just about to go our separate ways." She glanced at the Vorlon, "Isn't that right, Ambassador?"

After a long pause, Kosh nodded, "Yes."

The two ambassadors turned and walked away, leaving Garibaldi shaking his head, "Place gets stranger every day."

"Get used to it," came Sinclair's voice from behind him. "I get the feeling that's not going to change."

"I wish I could say I thought you were wrong," Garibaldi said, shaking his head. "Well, if you'll excuse me, Jeff, I've got to make arrangements for Ambassador D'Ron's speech to the Assembly tomorrow."

"I'll leave you to it, then."

In the upcoming speech, Ambassador D'Ron was expected to speak not only on behalf of the Karbarran Union, but also on behalf of the Sentinels Alliance as a whole.

The arrangement for how Babylon 5's political body would work had taken a great deal of wrangling and wringing of hands. The Assembly technically referred to all ambassadors to Babylon 5, but it also had quickly become the accepted term for the collection of ambassadors who represented the smaller governments, such as the LONAW or AEC member states. Officially speaking, there was the Babylon 5 Advisory Council, consisting of representatives of the five majors powers in the galaxy -- the Earth Alliance, the Minbari Federation, the Centauri Republic, the Narn Regime, and the Vorlon Empire -- who each had one vote on any major decisions. They were balanced by four collective votes from the rest of the Assembly: one for the LONAW, one for the Sentinels Alliance, one for the AEC, and one for the Assembly as a whole.

Although each of the Sentinels nations would easily have qualified for a seat on the Advisory Council, it was decided that -- given the strength of their ties to the Earth Alliance and the rather blunt way they had shown those ties at Fifth Cyrus and the Line -- it would be politically unwise to insist they each be given a separate vote. The Assembly vote was little more than an afterthought in case any nations joined the Assembly but -- being too minor a power and not being a member of the LONAW, the Sentinels, or the AEC -- would otherwise have no vote at all; at the moment, no such nation existed, but the contingency was there. In deciding the Assembly vote, all members of the Assembly could vote (though it was expected that the members of the Advisory Council would abstain; it would certainly be a political faux pas not to) and be counted equally.

This, incidentally, gave the Earth Alliance the official ability to vote on three levels -- as a member of the Advisory Council, as a member of the Sentinels Alliance, and as a member of the Assembly -- as compared to the two all the other current members of the Assembly could vote on. If this offended the other nations, the display of firepower at Fifth Cyrus and the Line kept them quiet, but it was more likely that they doubted the Sentinels would oppose the Earth Alliance's Advisory Council vote anyway, whether the EA had an official vote among the Sentinels or not, and this at least kept the Earth Alliance's larger influence in the open. Additionally, Ambassador Sheridan was too shrewd a diplomat to ever make the mistake of actually using any of that additional official voting power.

The living quarters of the five-mile-long station itself were unofficially divided into two sections -- one for humans and the other Sentinel races and one for the other races -- in a not-too-subtle reminder that the Earth Alliance would indeed remember what the Earth-Minbari War had told them about their various "allies."

* * *

"...and may I say again that if there is anything -- anything at all! -- that my government can do for you, Ambassador, you merely have to ask," Ambassador Kha'Tar said obsequiously, trailing along after Ambassador David Sheridan. "It is the least we can do, considering our actions during the war."

He had been acting like this throughout the reception and after, right from the beginning of the reception.

Three hours ago.

Kha'Tar was nothing like the hardened warrior race the Narn Regime had tried so hard to present themselves as since they threw the Centauri off their planet. In fact, Kha'Tar was literally the only Narn he had ever met... or seen... or heard of... that could ever be described as "plump." That wasn't what bothered Sheridan, though. Far from it. It only served to highlight how different the groveling brown noser was from the rest of his people, which made Sheridan wonder just how desperate the Narn Regime was for stronger ties with the Earth Alliance.

It also annoyed the hell out of him.

Sheridan finally turned and glared at the Narn ambassador, who took the cue and shut up immediately. After a long moment, Sheridan said, "Yes, we know you gouged us, hiking prices to take advantage of a doomed people. You made tremendous profits off a race that made a mistake and was paying obscene interest on that mistake. When the galaxy thought we were doomed, you did not lift a finger except to sell weapons to us. We know this. We haven't forgotten. But that was also more than almost anyone else did at that time, Ambassador, and we haven't forgotten that either. Get over it."

With that, he stalked off, leaving the stunned Narn ambassador in his wake.

 

[Cyclone]

Imagine that. After nearly fifteen months, an actual update!


* * *


Ariel waited in the lift as it whisked her to Green Sector. She and Ambassador Kosh had reserved a conference room for a private meeting, in which they would speak face to face, without the masks they wore around more... corporeal... species. The history between their two peoples was one that had to be addressed and laid to rest, one way or another.


Still, despite her conviction, she felt... uncertain. The Vorlons were still First Ones, no matter how far the Invid had come.


She frowned as the lift suddenly jolted to a halt. She pressed the emergency comm button. Nothing happened. After a long minute, the lift suddenly came back to life and finished the journey. She shook off the incident and hesitantly approached the conference room.


* * *


Ambassador Kazad'ur of the Drazi Freehold stood uncomfortably in the foyer of one of the diplomatic suites in Babylon 5's Green Sector. Specifically, this suite belonged to Ambassador David Sheridan of the Earth Alliance. He did not see himself as a warrior; most of the true warriors of the Drazi had vanished ten years ago during the war, vanished without firing so much as a single shot in anger; it had been a bitter pill for the Drazi to swallow. Kazad'ur had yet to be blooded, and yet, he was to represent his people here, on a station built upon their shame.


For by the very design of Babylon 5, the humans had made it very clear how they felt about the League of Non-Aligned Worlds. The League had failed to live up to its ideal when the Dilgar attacked, abandoning each other in their times of need, only to be saved by the humans... and then, once again, abandoned the humans in their time of need.


"Ambassador Kazad'ur," the outer door opened, and Ambassador Sheridan entered, beckoning him to follow. "I'm glad you could join me. Sorry I'm late. Come in."


Kazad'ur nodded and followed the human. "I... am ever eager to further future relations between the League and the Earth Alliance."


Sheridan's face darkened, and he shook his head, "I'm afraid that's out of the question." The Drazi's heart sank, until Sheridan continued, "We're here to discuss relations between the Earth Alliance and the Drazi Freehold, not the League of Non-Aligned Worlds."


Kazad'ur blinked in confusion. "I... do not understand. We left you to die."


"You didn't," Sheridan said quietly. "You tried. You, the Drazi, sent a fleet, your best warriors, your best ships, led by veterans who served alongside EarthForce against the Dilgar, knowing that they would not survive, a fleet that vanished into hyperspace, never to return. We could not ask for more, Ambassador, especially in a war we started. You gave more than we had any right to ask, and even after all that, you were still there, at the Line, even if it was just a single ship. And for that, we thank you. We cannot thank you enough."


The Drazi would have paled had he been able to. His people had kept the fate of that fleet as secret as possible. They had been vulnerable with the loss of so many ships and warriors and had feared that their neighbors would have tried to annex a few systems from their borders if they knew. So how did the Earth Alliance learn of it?


"Then... why?" Kazad'ur gestured vaguely around. "This station. You have given privileged placement to... to..."


"To the members of the Sentinel Alliance," Sheridan nodded. "But I suspect, Ambassador, that if your people were to leave the League to join the Sentinels, you would be welcomed with open arms."


Kazad'ur rocked back on his heels as the implications sank in. To be part of that mighty Alliance? An Alliance which could challenge not just the Centauri, but the Minbari as well? Could -- and had, in fact -- crushed the Minbari in a single battle?


"Think about it," the human said. "Talk with your people. But understand, the Sentinel Alliance isn't just an alliance. It's an organization devoted to an ideal, to a bright, shining future where we all work together for the common good, where the horrors of the Dilgar War and Earth-Minbari War could never happen."


"I see," the Drazi nodded.


"Not quite yet, you don't," Sheridan said, shaking his head. "One last warning, Kazad'ur. There are greater threats out there than the Centauri or the Dilgar or even the Minbari, and they will be coming for us. When they do, we'll need all the help we can get, but you have already given too much for us to allow you to make this decision in ignorance. Join the Sentinels, and you must stand with us; they won't give you a choice. Don't, and you may escape notice in the oncoming storm."


Kazad'ur nodded gravely. For a third time, the Drazi's courage and conviction would be tested. First, against the Dilgar, they allied with the Abbai in a futile effort to stem the darkness. Second, against the Minbari, they poured their hearts and souls to no avail. Now, against this mysterious, shadowy foe Sheridan spoke of, would be their third and final test. And this time, they would stand shoulder to shoulder with the humans.


* * *


Michael Garibaldi was finally beginning to relax. The last security arrangements for Ambassador D'Ron's speech tomorrow had finally been pinned down, and the sudden unexpected traffic had finally been sorted out.


He really should have known better.


His comlink blipped. "Garibaldi."


"Sir, we have an incident. Ambassador Kosh has been... incapacitated."


"Alright," Garibaldi sighed as he got up. "I want the entire section cordoned off at least two pressure doors in every direction. I want all witnesses and suspects taken into custody, and I want our forensics teams on it yesterday."


"Already in motion, sir."


"Excccellent," he said, shrugging on his jacket. "I wondered why I kept you around."


"Something that warms my heart every second of every day, sir."


"And get someone on the surveillance logs."


* * *


"I hope you understand, Ambassador," Garibaldi said. "You're not under arrest. This is protective custody."


"Because there are a great many people who would assume I am responsible for what happened," Ariel nodded calmly. "Yes, Mister Garibaldi, I understand." A smirk crossed her angelic face, "Although, I think you'd be surprised how well I can handle myself. There are very few things on this station that can hurt me, Mister Garibaldi, chief among them being whatever has afflicted Ambassador Kosh."