** "It was more then a surprise to see him there, in a place where no one knew me as I had been before Nighthawk, and I was striving to make myself a new life...a combination of conspiracy and absolution...trying to gain forgiveness for the mistakes of the past. And then *he* showed up...someone I was *convinced* I saw die almost twenty years before. Just went to show how badly our senses betray us sometimes...and that not all that happened in the universe is either visible...or understandable."
You didn't make sure, I told myself in those fleeting seconds of fear...you were too young, you didn't make sure, and now it's caught up to you at last. And then...I was once again given to realize that not all the hidden players were of the, shall we say, chaos serving variety..." **
- from "Storm Crossing: The Shadow War, and Other Responsibilities"
* * *
April 14, 2240...Sector 750...
"Damn him!" Angus Clifford roared, as his beloved ship, the CLARE, thunderously rocked under a trio of plasma bolts. "Told myself never to trust that man!... but *no*, Alias Randar *insisted* this would be the haul of a lifetime...and after all that we did for him, he tries *this*! Damn pirate!"
"Enough, Angus!!" came a cry from behind, as the CLARE once again shook from a combination of impacts and the response of her guns to the foe. "You're already scaring the child, think, man! You can find a way out of this if you *think* about it!"
Angus nodded bitterly, as his gaze wandered over the short braids of his only child, Jennifer. If only Marie could have seen her now, eight years old, and if death came now, not a tear. Her eyes met his...it was clear enough she knew what was going on, and he nodded.
Of course...damn his anger, and his foolish pride. There were friends waiting for him, in a place Randar would not be able to predict! Living friends...and others, obeying the orders of Newton, Einstein and Hawking!!
"Aye, Mantrell...Rendar will not have our rightful cargo back this day...not if *I* have anything to say about it." Turning to his instruments, he smiled, and then bellowed, "Margo!"
"Captain?"
"Keep Randar on his toes back there, we just need a little more time!"
"Daddy?"
"Yes, love?"
"The bad men are chasing us again, aren't they?" Jennie's eyes widened a little as the CLARE shook violently, through a combination of blasts from Randar's pursuit vessel, and Angus's often violent maneuvers to escape further damage. Ahead of them, a small cluster of asteroids was growing in size. Now that Angus was focused on the task, evasive action AND bringing them in closer to the Widowmakers was an easy enough task...
"Bad man is more like it, love. Randar is someone who doesn't give up on ideas quickly...and we made a bargain with him that we shouldn't have...."
"What sort of bargain?"
"Well, as you saw, love...there was a dead ship in Sector 780, a ship full of ores and computer things, very pricey this far out. So we helped haul his find out of the wreck, easy enough task, you say? It would've been, had Randar been an honest man. But he sees things his own way...he cheats men out of honest gains, and all for the love of profit. Fifty-Fifty became Ninety-Ten in his mind, and then all for him, and death for us, my love.
But now...now, we will have his head for those practices." Angus concentrated on the view ahead...the fragments of the once enormous Widowmaker asteroid were quickly filling space around the CLARE with vicious, death dealing fragments. "We will have his head, and his life."
"I don't like that, Daddy."
"Neither do I, love..but someone has to take this man down, and if it has to be Angus Clifford who does the deed, then so be it!"
It was then that Angus violently threw his ship into a hairpin spin around Widowmaker 9 and then close to the surface of the gravity locked mess of Widowmakers 34 and 35, less then two kilometres away. Great clangs rang against the hull...but Angus was a far better pilot then Alias Randar ever had been in his heyday...and the inevitable followed...
Death, as he saw it, was waiting for Randar that day. But for Angus Clifford, did ever victory come for as high a price??
* * *
August 14, 2251....Beta Nine Colony...
"It's over?" Paul asked.
Jennie nodded, her face a mask of pain, the sea of hair down her back waving in the low gravity. "It's over...damn him for the risks he took!...it killed him in the end."
"He saved you from Randar...that man would've killed you in an instant, for all that you were only eight years old!! Him and his damn greed."
"I...know. But I'm going to do what he wants me to, Paul. I'm...selling the CLARE, dealing away what little is left of our gains from *that* bargain, and using the proceeds to go to Earth..the Academy...and into the Force. Dad didn't want me to follow in his footsteps and reawaken the ghost of Alias Randar. I'll do that for him...I was close enough to doing it myself, but his wishes sealed the bargain."
Paul nodded. He had had other plans for the lovely young redhead who stood determined before him, but to argue with her, and win, against such determination? Not possible...sadly.
* * *
Jan 9, 2259...Babylon 5, the Westcastle/Gideon quarters...2345 hrs...
Walther Gideon was sleeping...he was sure of it...hoping it was so. Because Walther Gideon's ancient grandmother was rapping him on the head, just like she had when he was a child...
"So wrapped up in your own petty pains, boy...you are an embarassment to our family!!"
"But!..."
"Don't you dare, *but* me, boy. I thought I taught you better then that. Friends. You have friends that need you...friends that need your help *now*. You have no time to be wrapped up in your grief and depression over things you have no control over. Act, boy!! Act and do what you can in your life!!"
Walther shivered in the dream. Grandmother was frightening enough just angry, but *now* she almost seemed a figure of raging fire!...that's how angry she was, glowing eyes and all...
It had to be a dream..but were dreams ever this real?? Or unreal...and devastatingly frightening??
"Go do your duty, boy!! Or by God, you'll get what you deserve!"
Walther flinched as his grandmother raised her cane high...No...
With a shock, he came awake. There was something he had to do...Walther hit the floor, ripping clothes from his bags. Something terrible was about to happen...
Out of the corner of his eye, his grandmother leant on her cane, and grimly nodded...
* * *
Jan 10th, 0010 hrs...outside the Alien sector...
Silent and mysterious, Kosh moved through the living world, and through the dreams of others. He would do what he had to to see things through to the end. That had always been the way...it always would be. The others were rising again, despite all that his kind had done to prevent it, and there were those who would not take that lightly *this* time.
Kosh moved on. The songs of the youngsters played over him, and silently, unknowingly, some of the songs were altered...a miniscule amount...but needed, and correct. But now...now, a brilliant chord pulled him forward...a chord of desperation, of impossible fight against impossible odds. There was no choice, the outcome was one expected.
He would abide by the rules of the game...but there was need in this song. And Kosh could not...would not...ignore that need.
* * *
0020 hrs...
Shock, and bitterness, played across Jennie's mind, in the instant of acknowledging what was before her...and behind her, and around her. Alias Randar, the demon of her family's existence, had returned...and both of those who might have helped her were far away. Even on Babylon 5 the human rythyms of night and day brought a cyclical silence to the station's corridors, and now, in this place, at this time, had Randar returned. Returned, it seemed, to erase the last living member of the family that had maimed him and left him for dead, his armed hauler impaled on a iron spike of the Widowmaker over 20 years before...
"There is no escape for you, my dear." Randar's lips twisted into a rictus grin. "Your father, the poor man, escaped from me in the arms of the Grim Reaper. Too bad...but it has been a long road, Jennifer Clifford, and it seems that you have little intention of returning to me what is rightfully mine. Very well." Randar motioned, and the dark-eyed, shabbily dressed bullyboys edged closer. "In blood, it is."
Her eyes narrowed...so be it, then...if it was a fight Randar wanted, then a fight Randar would get! In a flash, two knives were in her hands...well carved knives, harder then any available in Human space...courtesy of G'kael and his men. It was enough to make her smile, to see Randar's one good eye widen, and then narrow in anger. "So...you think me easy prey, do you, Alias?? You surprised me, that much is true...but we don't shirk from fights...we never have. My father should have proven that to you on the bones of the Widowmaker."
"Bah! We outnumber you multiples to one, girl. I will gnaw on your bones and think of your dear father when I do..." Randar motioned curtly, and as one, his henchmen rushed forward, staves and blades in hand.
A cold void filled her thoughts, as she tensed...raised her blades, and prepared in the mere seconds remaining to her. So far gone was she that she almost missed the moving mountain of shadow approaching out of the utility corridor behind Randar...a moving mountain with a single, cold..green eye...
* * *
The Garden...Ten Minutes before...
"Fair enough. I think we're clear on the situation here. The network cannot...must not be compromised, and we all have our secrets, collected or otherwise."
"Yes, sir."
"I don't think, at this stage, that is necessary any longer, Mr. Westcastle. You're no longer in the Force, and any claims of rank I might have on you are null and void."
"You saved my life...it will be...difficult to break the habit, I guess."
A smile. "You should try, for your own sake at least, although I will agree that there are certain loyalties that go beyond signing on the dotted line. Know this, though, Mr. Westcastle...you will always be welcome on Babylon 5...although, something tells me you already have something on the go..."
"More or less. Thank for your time...Captain."
<Beep> "Sheridan, go."
"Captain..."
"Yes, Lieutenant Commander? What's got you up at this hour?"
Westcastle listened as the Captain's apparently ruthlessly efficient, and also seemingly terminally exhausted second in command rattled off a locational string...and then, something clicked.
Seconds later, Captain John Sheridan was left alone in the Garden as his fellow Omega Network compatriot sprinted out of the Garden, at a dead run. Face grim, he turned to follow, and tapped his link. "Commander Ivanova.."
A sigh. "Sir?"
"I have a task for you..."
* * *
Gideon ran down the corridor, brushing the occasional interloper out of the way. Had to hurry...had to. Nearly running into that Drazi hadn't helped things either...the Drazi had tried to rip his clothes off, just about...
He was running out of time...
* * *
0029 hrs...
"*Enough*"
Everyone stopped in mid stride. Randar's head whipped around, and his one good eye widened impossibly wide. "What..."
"*It cannot be allowed. We will not warn you again.*"
"Kill her!" Randar screamed, as Jennie stared up in amazement as the moving bronze bulk of the Vorlon moved ever closer to Randar. "Ignore the Vorlon!...kill her!...I *WILL* have my revenge!"
"*NO*"
It was then that it happened, of course. Hirelings, when given a gun, will eventually decide to use it, and since Randar, their overseer, was controlling the money, it penetrated into the minds of the henchmen at that point that it might be a good idea for them to protect their boss. PPG blasts ripped out towards the Vorlon...and slightly before impact, seemed to rebound off the now seemingly Sinister encounter suit. The Vorlon's 'eye' narrowed...and at that moment, three seperate things happened almost simultaneously...
Firstly, Walther Gideon sped around the corner, and rushed for Randar, face determined, arms raised and bunched in fists...
"J..Celia!" came an all too familiar cry, and Jennie smiled, and looked over her shoulder as William rushed into view, and headed straight for her...
Randar, of course, saw his last, best oppurtunity for revenge slipping away...and eye full of hate, decided to act...
"**NO**" That said with finality, a barely seen buzzing ball of light sprang from the Vorlon's eye, and contacted the body of Randar in mid-leap. A cry of ultimate pain sprang from the pirate's lips, and impossibly, he twisted in mid-leap...and fell to his knees on the deck, at almost the same time Walther reached him, and with all the apparent power in him, slammed a fist against Randar's temple.
The pirate collapsed. All around, the henchmen were backing away, their faces ashen...and then, almost as one...they turned to run...
Jennie felt the tension leach out of her, just as William reached her and wrapped his arms around her. "Oh, God...!"
"*It is done*"
"Why?"
"*The search has begun. It is done.*" Inscrutable, the Vorlon turned away... drifted into the darkness of the unlit corridor...
And was gone.
"That's...it?" Walther exclaimed.
"What's 'it'?" William demanded, as Jennie put a hand to her suddenly throbbing temple. "What happened?"
She sighed. "Let me...explain...I'm probably the only one who can."
"Will you?"
"Will someone?" another voice demanded, as an dark haired, imperious woman in Earthforce blues approached the scene, security forces in tow. "It's been a long, *long* day, so let's try and keep this to the point, shall we?" The woman cast a severe gaze across William and Walther. "Mister Gideon, I see you're back in trouble already. Not a promising start, is it?"
"Who’s...this?"
Walther grimaced. "Celia, let me introduce Lieutenant Commander Susan Ivanova, who I had the honour of meeting when requisitioning quarters on this lovely station."
"Who started this??" Commander Ivanova asked her, gaze pointed. "What with reports of Ambassador Kosh on the prowl for unknown reasons, and...forget it, you *don't* need to know. Explain yourselves, time is short."
She grimaced, and poked the still unconscious Randar with her foot. "Quite simple...and convuluted at the same time. When I was younger, my father made a deal with this man...a deal that Alias Randar promptly broke...by trying to steal from us and kill us at the same time. We barely escaped with our lives...and my Dad eventually died from the wounds he took in that battle. I came near enough to the same fate."
"An interesting story...Miss?.."
"Zandar. Now, Commander, if you will forgive me, a man I thought long since dead turned up, and tried to kill me again. He's a ghost...a demon from the past!"
"With all due respect..."
"Yes, Commander?"
"That will no longer be your concern." Face grim, Commander Ivanova passed orders to the security force. "This...man will be held in custody until we are able to determine the nature of his crimes, both past and present, and with your assistance, it is likely we will be able to extradite him off of the station and out of your lives quite permemantly, I assure you. *Now*, it has been a *long* day, both for you and for me, so I will bid you good evening, and suggest you do the same."
Wisely enough, she kept her mouth shut, and watched William and Walther nod politely. Without further ado, the brusque second in command of Babylon 5 whisked down the corridor and out of sight, as the security detail, with a now moaning Randar in tow, vanished in another, appropriately different, direction.
"I'd take exception to that order to go to bed if I knew her any better." a now exhausted Walther muttered darkly, "Except I'm too tired to argue with her right now."
"Right enough..." William replied, a twinkle just starting to appear in his eyes.
* * *
"An interesting trio, sir."
"Interesting is putting it mildly, Commander. Might I suggest we keep an eye on them while they're here? Trouble seems to follow them around."
"Well put, sir."
RIMSTALKER: DESTINY'S CALL, PART 2
"UNEXPECTED ALLIANCES", ACT II
** "...follow the signs marked back to the beginning..."
Lyric from comptemporary 20th Century song
* * *
Chronicles Log, Entry II, Jan 12, 2259...
It's ironic, but it seems that no matter how far you run, what you've left behind you always catches up to you. Walther ran from Earth to Babylon 5 to try and escape from his guilt over failing to control events he couldn't influence, Jennie ran away from her past... and look what happened. And I...I would like to run away from the holes in my head, but it doesn't look like the Universe is going to give any of us what we want.
Time to bite the bullet.
Walther's faced his guilt...and in the process of helping to save Jennie from Alias Randar, he found a way out of his depression, and is now looking into setting up a business on station; someplace down in that 'Zocalo' or so I understand. Rander gave Jennie the fright of her life, but she came out of that okay, too, and is now in the process of hiring on a crew for the STARDANCER. We have...an understanding, is the best way of putting it, but that understanding isn't going to stop her, now that she's exorcised the ghosts of the past, from forging ahead with merchant ties. She needs a little freedom right now; it would be a mistake for me to bar her from that.
And that leaves me. William Geoffrey Westcastle, a survivior with holes in his head, and alien memories to fill those holes. I don't like it...but I have to find out what it all means!
* * *
Jan 13, 2259. Morning...The Zocalo.
"J..."
With firm, but gentle hand, Jennie laid a hand across the mouth of one of her father's oldest friends, and shook her head wearily. Saved by a Vorlon from a fate worse then death (she wasn't going to try and explain that to anyone, or even bring it up, for that matter) and now this happened! If things went on like they were, it would be *very* hard to maintain her cover...was there *any* part of her past that hadn't caught up with her yet??
But J..." Lyamn Mantrell protested, shaking his near-white tail of hair in consternation. "Y..."
In exasperation, she yanked Mantrell out of the main corridor, and into an almost empty side passage. "You just had to show up, didn't you?" she hissed. "Couldn't have been anyone else, could it?"
"But, you're the one who broke up the crew...sold the CLARE!"
"At the time, it was what *I* wanted...but *damnit*, Lyamn, it's not as simple as it looks!" To prove the point, she whipped out her ident card. "Read."
Mantrell did...and a look of utter incomprehension appeared, and then deepened. "Celia Zandar? But..."
"Lyamn, pay attention. Every once in a while, when I was little, Dad had to go underground for reasons of his own...and sometimes reasons of survival. You change your name...change your looks, do what you *have* to do to get the job done and get on with your life. Well, Lyamn, something like that happened to me three months ago. According to the best records Earth has, the name you were just about to mention is attached to a lovely young redhead who was killed in Nighthawk system the middle of last October. She's dead, and now, I'm this person. Do you FOLLOW ME, Lyamn?"
Lyamn's eyes narrowed. "Aye, that I do. I don't pretend to understand the reasoning behind it yet...but mayhap in time you will have due cause to explain. Regardless, the matter at hand is clear. I've heard that a Miss Zandar is putting together a tramp crew for her lovely ship, and friends of loved ones deserve protection, do they not?"
She allowed herself to smile. The old rogue wouldn't give up...but it was easy to understand the reasons why. "I follow you. I guess I *do* need a engineer for the STARDANCER, rattletrap that she is."
"Fair enough, girl. Show me the way, and all being well, she will become less of a rattletrap as time goes on."
"Done...and done." Wary, but knowing, friend and friend's daughter shook hands. "Lyamn..."
"Hhmm?"
"Would you...by any chance...happen to know anyone else who might like to sign on??"
A twinkle danced in Lyamn Mantrell's eyes. "Oh, I believe you *could* say that, girl. We might not make our current captain very happy, but you never do know who will pop out of the woodwork."
* * *
Chronicles Log, Entry III, Jan 15, 2259...
Is this a breakthrough? I don't yet know...but a year has begun to surface in my memories. 2003. Is this year I must attach these memories to? And if so...what does this suggest? Nothing good, I must admit. I do NOT hold with the idea of rebirth...I have always held a little too much of a scientificly principled mind for *those* beliefs to have any hold over me.
And yet, the memories aren't going away...and in some respects, are becoming more insistent as time goes on. 2003...a year of Fire...and Death.
Yesterday, I talked to a Minbari, the first I've talked to in some time, given that EarthGov continues to be fairly hostile towards them, even now. The conversation was...interesting, to say the least!
And somehow...the topic of the memories came up.
* * *
Jan 18th, 2259. Interlude.
G'kael received the message...and frowned. Events were *not* developing as planned. The three had become distracted by ghosts from their pasts. It was typical of the humans...tell them what was about to happen, and they would try to forget it...or forge on into past actions and lives. He sighed. Certain forces should not have had to involve themselves, and the message more then served to explain this fact. It appeared that he would have to make another trek to Babylon 5, after all.