Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Lady of Downbelow

a.k.a. “Not My Babylon Circus, Not My Downbelow Monkeys”

+++++PART+01+++++

March 9, 2256 – Babylon 5 opens

November 12, 2256 – Nova arrives

02.08.2020

She did not arrive by ship, if anyone had cared to go back through the security tapes to check. She first appeared in the middle of the tangle of beings, a wide eager smile already in place and a bounce in her step. All initial impressions put her as any other tourist goggling at all the things to see and buy in the Zocalo of Babylon 5.

She didn’t set off any security alarms because she didn’t come through any checkpoint, just as she didn’t come from any ship—not a ship that any security here would recognize—and once a visitor passed the initial screening upon disembarking, security (though present) was much laxer.

However, those that may have recognized the import of her arrival were not present to witness and thus none knew the significance of the overly energetic redhead in their midst, who flitted from stall to kiosk admiring the wares on display. Occasionally she would purchase one and proceed to place it in her bright blue cloth bag that hung from her right wrist. Overall, upon first appearance, she was rather unremarkable, utterly forgettable in a sea of tourists and shoppers.

Only one set of eyes blinked curiously—not at the woman herself—as they noticed that the small cloth sack could hold items two or three times its size and still appeared to be unchanged. The owner of said eyes followed the sack through the crowd and saw another five purchases disappear inside. The outside of the bag never seemed to change. It still looked just as empty as before. As if the whatever it was held only soft things of little mass.

Wondering at what else the magical bag held, as well as certain responsibilities and obligations, a hand reached out…

+++B5+++

When she reached to tuck her newest prize into her bag, she blinked. Her hand kept trying to hook strings to draw it up and out. She glanced down. Strings which weren’t there. “Huh,” she muttered.

“Fingers all ‘round sticky be. More careful be you,” said the unsympathetic seller.

Nova looked around, spinning in a slow circle, but didn’t see anyone looking particularly guilty or running away. She looked back at the alien with a tilt of her head, “Did you see where they went?”

It shook its massive bulbous head, one hand gesturing to the right. “Many Sector Brown shelters. Not go you. Hurt be you.” That was the last word before it turned to its next customer. Now that it had successfully gotten her to purchase something, it was no longer interested.

Nova turned and found ‘Red 5’ stenciled in two-meter-tall letters. Her eyes found what appeared like it might be a terminal right under. She headed that way. She didn’t bother to look around nervously or to see if anyone noticed her as she pulled out a small metallic tube out of her inner jacket pocket. (She had learned that most don’t pay any attention to those who appear to be doing their jobs. Walking with a purpose did wonders to make one go unnoticed.)

Her fingers worked the several tiny buttons and single dial with the quick efficiency speaking of long practice. A strange rapid chirping buzz was emitted upon activation, similar to a high-frequency animal call. More interestingly, the computer terminal screen began to flash through dozens of images rapidly before settling on a diagram of the station. Her eyes swept over the map several times before landing on where she needed to go. “There,” she muttered. She tapped the screen with a finger absently, then shut down the terminal.

It took three ‘vator rides and a long walk to get to the closest part of Brown Sector. When she did, she looked around with a combination of disgust and pity. It seemed to be a maze of pipes, covered by dust, dirt, and heaps of trash every few yards. Industrial facilities and waste management…except that people lived here.

It reminded Nova of an old Hooverville – a shanty town built by the homeless of the United States during the Great Depression – made of anything and everything, all held together with rope, bubblegum, and prayers. They couldn’t afford real housing and couldn’t afford to leave the ship. They built what they could from what they could find or steal; a lucky few had jobs that paid under the table, while most stole what they needed; all doing their best to survive.

A sniffle caught her attention. “But I saw  her put things in it! I swear!” came the voice of a young female.

“It’s empty, but it’s pretty enough,” soothed another, “Maybe we can sell it.”

Nova rounded a corner carefully and saw the pair, both huddled around the bright blue bag. The boy couldn’t be more than twelve, while the girl was around eight. Both humanoid. Both in threadbare clothes and no shoes. The girl was cleaner, and Nova suspected it was a calculation on their part; the cleaner she was, the easier she could blend into the market crowd and pickpocket. Her size and speed accomplished the rest.

“It’s not empty,” Nova said.

Both sets of eyes were the same shade of honey brown as they looked up in shock. The boy stepped forward and in front to shield the girl from the unknown possible threat. “What’da’ya want?”

Nova wondered how long they had lived on the streets that the standard questions of ‘who are you’ and ‘where did you come from’ were no longer important. Only what a stranger wanted mattered anymore. How long had it been since they had known kindness or safety? If she tried to be kind, they probably wouldn’t know how to react, or quite possibly act antagonistically, even violently, in defense of the perceived threat her presence created, or perhaps try to take advantage of her generosity.

For the best results, she would need to take a page from her tabritar’s book and treat them like adults. She gestured with a hand, “That’s my bag. I’d like it back.”

The boy didn’t take his eyes off her, on guard for even the slightest twitch. “It’s ours now. Go away,” his words tumbled together in a rush of air, trying to be forceful and commanding and failing miserably.

The girl peeked around him carefully, “How’s it empty? I saw  you put lots in!”

“Only I can put things in it and take things out. It’s not much use to you.”

“Liar!” said the boy. He might be a kid, but he knew how bags worked!

Nova eyed him for a long minute, where both children began to fidget and eyes dart for exits, then offered, “How about we trade?”

The girl perked up. “You wanna trade?” Her protector hissed “Kari!”  and made to pull her back, but she stepped around and in front. “What are you offering?” she asked primly.

Nova held back a smile as the girl presented herself as if she were a miniature clerk ready to sell her wares. “Well, little miss,” Nova began, “what might you be needing?” There were only a handful of items that she wasn’t willing to part with. Nova had also carefully phrased the question as to their needs, not their wants. Children wanted many things, but orphaned homeless children knew and understood about needs.

Kari bit her lip as she thought. When she reached a decision, she crossed her arms. “Food and blankets.”

Though Nova had expected the first request, her heart ached by the second. “Hmm…that’s a tall order,” she said instead. “How about food, water, and soft blankets?”

The girl blinked. She spent a lot of her time in the Zocalo and thought knew how haggling worked. “That’s not right…” The lady was supposed to offer LESS, not more!

“It’s not?” Nova asked innocently. “It IS a special bag, you’re right.” She tapped her chin as if in thought. “Alright, I’ll throw in a percolator and supplies too.”

“What’s a perk-a-ler?” she asked hesitantly.

“Doesn’t matter. We can sell it even if its junk!” the boy hissed quietly from behind.

“Say…” the two children tensed “…I have to stay here for a while. I’ll bargain with you for food, water, a place to stay with soft blankets, a percolator, AND a new set of clothes for each of you.”

The boy stiffened at this, his mind a whirl of newer horrible possibilities. “What’da’ya want for all that?”

“Well, I’m new here, and I don’t know my way around. You give me my bag and show me the ropes, and it’s all yours.” Nova didn’t say that she was already making long term plans. First, she needed a way in. Gaining their trust would take much longer.

The boy looked torn between the temptation she offered and his own prior experiences warning him away. He opened his mouth and Nova had a feeling he would refuse, when Kari’s stomach growled. His mouth snapped closed as the little girl’s shoulders slumped, as if ashamed. He looked at Kari, then Nova, and snapped, “Deal!”

“But we get half up front,” Kari hurried to insert, sounding as if it was something she had heard and memorized to now demand at the appropriate moment.

“What?” the boy was confused.

Nova nodded seriously, “Of course.”

Kari looked smug.

November 2256 – Nova & littles take over Gray-17

November 2256 – Nova begins giving free medical care to those near where she & littles sleep

December 2256 – whispers of mysterious healer begin

December 19, 2256

09.17.2021

Security Chief Michael Garibaldi looked up from the report and stared at the greenie. “Is this a joke? Are you being hazed?” he asked seriously.

The young security officer, barely out of the academy, nervously shook his head. “I don’t think so, sir. I mean, I don’t think it’s a joke, sir. And I’m not being hazed, sir…I don’t think, sir. I spoke to the head personally, sir. She said that her people started to notice about a week ago—”

Garibaldi’s brows were narrowing incrementally downward as the words tumbled out. All the ‘sir’s were making his neck itch. He rubbed the bridge of his nose to try to ease the tension.

“—wouldn’t have mentioned it at all, sir, especially since the gardens are supposed to be for entertainment and relaxation as well as oxygen production, sir, except that all the plants that are being stolen are edible or medicinal in some way.” The very young twenty-something finally took a breath, a deep one.

Garibaldi blinked and looked up. “Edible or medicinal? All of them?”

“That’s what she said,” he nodded, “and she also noted that…” he hesitated.

“What? Kid, spit it out.”

“Well, sir—”

“Stop with all the ‘sirs’ and just tell me!”

“Sorry, sir…” he paused as he realized what he’d done, then just barged ahead quickly as if to cover up his error, “She noticed that the plants were not just carefully selected for their properties, but were carefully taken as well. Roots and all, but leaving enough left for the theft to not be noticed, and for the remaining plants to fill in the gap as they grow back. None of the spots were completely bare.”

Michael sat back, contemplating. “Did Harriet say anything about how long this might have been going on?” Harriet Koner was the Head of Dendrology and Cultivation on Babylon 5.

“A week ago, sir.”

“No, you said that her people noticed it a week ago. Can they estimate how long its been happening since before they noticed?”

The boy looked more anxious, “I didn’t ask, sir.”

Garibaldi rolled his eyes. “One ‘sir’ is plenty.” His mouth didn’t dare open again. “Well? Why are you still standing here, go find out!”

“Yes, sir!” he escaped the dreaded office.

Garibaldi rubbed his forehead.

Chapter Text

0800hrs January 4, 2257 – Kosh first arrives & poisoned

1520hrs January 4, 2257

“Lady! Lady!”

Nova looked up at the frantic call, but a second after her head jerked in response, watched the boy slide into a wall before reorienting towards her with no visible damage, she relaxed. It hadn’t been panicked. Just enthusiastic, which was typical Daniel. “How many times have I told you not to run around like that? You’re going to either end up hurting yourself or crashing into someone who’s going to hurt you.” As she spoke, she straightened the boy’s clothes and brushed his hair back out of his eyes.

He rolled his eyes at her. “Ladyyy,”  he drawled her new title out in annoyance. “You aren’t listening!” For some reason, none of the children called her by name. Only ‘Lady’, or very, very rarely, ‘Lady Nova’.

Nova smiled inwardly. How only a month had changed the boy. “Alright, what is it?”

“Charlie found ‘em! And they’re perfect! Come ON!  You have to come see!” He tugged at her hand.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” she assured. “Let me get my bag and we’ll go.” Not that the bright blue cloth bag—still as a bright blue as it had been the first day she’d arrived on Babylon 5—was ever far from her, if not already hanging from her wrist.

As she followed Daniel, she listened with only half an ear as the boy chattered about everything and anything: things that had happened to him personally, things that had happened to others in their area, things that had happened to those around the ship, and everything else that came to his mind.

“—and then Saldri said that we were all gonna get in HUGE trouble—"

When not in her presence, he had a rather remarkable ability to go almost anywhere unnoticed, blending in and observing. When he was with her though, it was as if the floodgates opened and he never stopped talking.

“—have you heard that weird new ass-a-dor is sick and—”

“Ambassador,” Nova corrected out of habit. When she had first met Daniel, he couldn’t make eye contact with anyone and held himself as if he was always waiting to be hit.

“—yeah, that! And he’s really sick and they can’t figure out why ‘cause they’re not supposed to open his weirdo suit and there’s all these new macho guys in Brown trying to find out who made him sick and—"

She couldn’t help but smile at the flow of words and happy boyish bouncing. Privately, she thought it one of her best achievements since she’d come to Babylon 5. “There’s Charlie,” she gestured, spotting the ten-year-old girl.

“Lady!” Charles waved happily and pointed to the side. “I found perfect ones, Lady!”

“So, Danny’s being telling me,” Nova smiled at her. “Let’s take a look.” She knelt and dragged off the dust-colored tarp that almost perfectly blended into the floor and walls. “Wow, these are  nice!” she softly whistled as she eyed the sunlamps bulbs and casings critically. “They look in perfect condition…” she looked up at the two children who were grinning at her triumphantly, “Do you know why they were thrown out?”

Charlie nodded and pointed, “That bit there has a lot of wires hanging out.”

Nova dutifully went to examine the panel, which indeed had a handful of multicolored wires, ends stripped clean. “Hmmm…” Nova pulled out her sonic screwdriver and peered inside. A couple settings on the screwdriver in analysis mode gave a possible answer. “Ah!” she hooked out one black-and-yellow wire in particular and tugged it out. She looked at the boy, “Daniel, do you still have that carbo-nanofiber mesh you found last week?”

His brows furrowed as he thought and dug through his pockets. “This one, Lady?”

“There we are,” she took the small ragged bit of metallic-braided cloth, barely a few centimeters in area, and wrapped the wire. “Charlie, how about that clear nail polish?” Why someone hadn’t yet realized how well clear nail polish could be used as glue for anything porous was beyond her.

The girl brightened and pulled out the almost-empty bottle. Knowing what was expected—they had done this trick several times before—Charlie held onto the bottle and handed the top to Nova.

“Thank you,” she smiled. A dab of the nitrocellulose onto mesh instantly soaked through the carbo-nanofiber and adhered it in place to the wire. Nova handed the applicator back to Charlie, who dutifully put the cap back on and the bottle back in her chest pocket, and blew gently to speed the adherence. When she thought enough time had passed, she poked it with the very tip of her pinkie. No tacky feeling. Good enough. “Alright, I think that should do it.”

She got back to her feet and put her hands on her hips, smiling at the two children who smiled just as brightly back. “Have we contacted Harn?”

Daniel nodded, “Jamie should be on his way back by now. We were extra-certain-sure this was perfect and Jamie wanted to get to Harn before anyone else!”

Hr’Mola’Keby was a local Narn, who—as far as she could figure out—had been in Brown Sector for as long as Babylon 5 had been in operation. Since no one could pronounce his name correctly, he went by Harn and was currently the best muscle-for-hire in the area. He had no problems working for children, taking direction, or being paid in trade.

He also found it hilarious when she first approached him and found out that she wanted his muscles for moving cargo.

“And you were absolutely right,” Nova said, making his chest puff up even bigger. “What about Kari?”

“She and Jack haven’t come back from the sellers yet,” Charlie reported.

Nova nodded. “Alright, then we’ll wait here for Jamie and Harn and then be back in plenty of time for supper.”

It had started with just James and Karianne, but the others had joined them one by one until Nova found herself in charge of five orphans, none of whom were old enough to legally get a job, and all of whom thought living in Brown Sector was better than wherever they were before. They were relatively close in age too; Kari being the youngest at eight, and Jaqueline the oldest at 14, though she had been 13 when they met.

Kari was the best haggler of them all (including Nova herself), while Jack (eternally dressed and addressed as a boy to avoid undue attention) was their best fighter. They were usually paired together when the group needed something from the vendors or black market.

Jamie was Kari’s older brother and was tall and skinny for his age of eleven. He had the lightest build and as such was the fastest. He was the second oldest and had taken it upon himself early on to be the protector of the younger ones, often as runner or distraction. In the early days, he and Danny wouldn’t be far apart from each other, back when the littlest (though not the youngest) had still been so shy of Nova. She was almost certain that, unlike the others, Daniel had run away from an abusive situation. He was too good at dodging and being quiet when needed, flinching at every unexpected sound or movement.

Charlie was ten-and-a-half (the “and a half” was very important and must always be said if you asked her), was the second-fastest but wasn’t particularly good at anything. Thus, she became the go-to for odd jobs, such as staying with sunlamps to make sure no one found and took off with them. “What’s for supper?” Charlie asked.

“Stew!” Danny answered before she could, practically bouncing on his toes.

“Oooo,” Charlie’s eyes widened in awe.

“Did I hear stew?” Harn’s gravely voice came from a right hallway.

Nova turned and nodded, even as Danny once again spoke for her. “Uh huh! The Lady made her special  stew for dinner!”

Nova raised an eyebrow, “Special stew? Why is it special?”

The nine-year-old blinked at her, adorably confused. “Because you made it!”

Harn chuckled at the exchange. He loved working for this little group, but he had his own needs. “Is the stew payment?”

Nova nodded, “Two bowls for two sunlamps.” She gestured to the floor.

Harn, ever the professional, walked around the lights. “You need them intact, or they for parts?”

“Intact.”

“Hmmm…” He eyed them critically. “Five bowls of stew. Gonna have to hire a franny for them, fragile as they are.”

Nova sighed, but nodded her agreement. She knew that two were payment to rent the franny. “Five bowls for the two lights, transport, discretion, and protection,” she said firmly. Meaning that he was promising not only to move the sunlamps, but to ensure they arrived. If he had to hire a franny, it might cause a stir of interest from the local bandits and thieves, who would come investigating. Discretion so that thieves didn’t notice as much as possible; protection so that if they did notice and follow, the lamps would be defended.

He shook his head. “Can do five bowls for transportation and discretion, but protection will be extra.”

Five bowls was as much as she could barter and still have enough left over for their own dinner. Nova huffed out a breath.  The sunlamps wouldn’t do the thieves any good, but they wouldn’t know that and would think that something that big and being transported so carefully was worth stealing, if only to sell it immediately afterward.

Harn could see her internal struggle. He was a Narn, fallen from grace and working his way back to his family name. He still had his honor, what little was left. “Five bowls…and medic next time I need it.”

“Done,” Nova said instantly.

He held up a finger, “No matter how bad, all paid for.”

She nodded again. She would have done that anyway, no matter how hurt he was the next time he crawled to her beaten and bloody, but he didn’t need to know that. She shook hands to seal the deal. “Agreed.”

Nova nodded, stepped back, and gestured. “James, you go with Harn for the franny, and Daniel, you keep watch with them and show Harn the way. Charlotte will come with me. Hopefully, between the two of us, we’ll have everything ready to install them once you get there.” The children all nodded seriously. “Harn, if you use discretion, protection, transportation, for the lamps and the children, AND help me install them, I’ll give you the five bowls, one future medstay, and…a future favor.”

Charlie and Danny sucked in sharp breaths, knowing what she just offered was a LOT. “Lady…”  Charlie hissed in warning. Nova waved her silent, watching Harn.

His eyes had bugged in shock. In the Downbelow, where barter, trade, and stealing were a part of life, a future favor was practically unheard of. A future favor meant that the one owed could ask for ANYTHING of the ower, in every sense of the word, and the ower would have to perform to the best of their ability, up to and including their own possible death.

Harn shook on it. He was earning back his honor, but he wasn’t stupid. What she just offered was too good to pass up. He wouldn’t ask, though he certainly wanted to, why normal looking sunlamps would be worth so much, but he made it a policy not to ask.

As he was leaving with the two boys beside him, he heard the Lady ask, “Wait, Danny, did you say that the new ambassador was sick?”

+++B5+++

Harn had paused momentarily when Danny had first directed him towards Gray-17. However, with the future favor in mind, he kept going. A feeling of unease has grown incrementally the farther they went in until he was about ready to turn back, no matter how lucrative the job…

…until, like a bubble that had burst, all tension vanished. Instantly, he noticed both boys relax almost completely. “What is it?” he rumbled.

“The Lady calls it a safety guard—”

“Safeguard,” James corrected quietly.

“—so that no one will accidentally come along and steal anything, even though she’s gonna give it all away for free, she doesn’t want any bad people to take over and start charging,” Danny’s words tumbled over themselves.

Harn blinked, nodding. ‘The Lady’ was probably right. While the underground black-market was new on Babylon 5, it was already guarded and secure. If anyone came across whatever this was, then the chances it would be taken and sold were high. “What is being guarded?”

“You’ll see!” Danny grinned. “It’s this way.”

“You’ll have to close your eyes to get there,” Jamie instructed. “It’s another safeguard,” he explained when Harn hesitated. “No one who sees the entrance can get inside. It’s like your eyes slide right passed and you forget you saw anything.” The Narn considered, then nodded and dutifully closed his eyes. He led the franny with his right arm while his left was tugged by small hands in the correct direction. “Okay, you can open them again.” When he did, he stared in amazement taking it all in.

It was a vast hydroponics garden! Enough water beds and plants to feed three times the small group that built it, with plenty of room to expand later. He saw beds of potatoes, carrots, yuccaota, karinbati, and even yori! Three small sunlamps were already in place but there were obviously two spots that were waiting to be filled by the large ones he currently was bringing.

Nova and Charlie were ready for them. “Wonderful, just in time. Put them here,” Nova pointed to a spot right below where she things set up, “and we can lift them easier.”

No wonder she had wagered a future favor! This was priceless  to Downbelow, where food was sometimes a luxury that couldn’t be afforded. It would be too tempting a target if the wrong people found out.

Perhaps he would suggest another few safety measures while he helped install the lights…?

09.18.2021

Chapter Text

0800hrs January 4, 2257 – Kosh first arrives & poisoned

1520hrs January 4, 2257 – Nova learns of Kosh being poisoned

0113hrs January 5, 2257

Nova was nervous, having never been in this part of the ship, but determined. According to what Daniel and Karianne could find out, the newest ambassador was a Vorlon who had been poisoned. No one could heal the being because they weren’t allowed to open his suit. They weren’t even certain that it WAS poison, only that it was probably  poison based on its affect.

Grimly, she mentally acknowledged that if it had been a human ambassador she wouldn’t have bothered. Maybe. Probably. After all, the humans had human doctors that were experts at dealing with human problems…especially if you had enough money to pay them, which any ambassador certainly would. However, the medics on B5 were all human-oriented that she knew of, and this particular patient was certainly NOT a human.

It was a Vorlon.

One of the First Races.

Which meant she felt more than slightly obligated to get involved. So here she was, wearing a TARDIS key (with an enhanced perception filter), making her way to the B5 medbay in Green Sector. She had come when it was still the extremely early dark hours on board when most things were asleep or shut down. She was hoping that she wouldn’t run into many personnel on this little jaunt.

She eased into the medical room and only saw a single person on duty, their back to her as they input computer data. The perception filter made it so that while they turned to see what had made the doors open, they dismissed it after only a couple seconds of contemplation. As long as she draw undue attention, her presence would be dismissed.

Nova saw that the Vorlon—or rather, the Vorlon’s encounter suit—was in a small isolation room to the right and made her way there. With a quiet rush of displaced air, she was in and through. Her sonic screwdriver activated privacy-mode and the glass turned opaque. Her shoulders relaxed slightly. Now she could work without too much anxiety. (She wasn’t as comfortable as her trabritar in just charging forward without worrying about getting caught.)

+Greetings+ She used the first commonly accepted universal language some few hundred thousand years ago. +Are you cognizant?+

(First was a language that was stilted and very formal. Its purpose was to bring together many different species and cultures so that a minimum amount of misunderstandings (and thus wars) would occur.)

She waited several long moments but received no answer. Figuring that was either a ‘no, I can’t understand you’ or ‘no, I’m not conscious’, she flipped her screwdriver over in her hand and began to scan.

“Damn,” she whispered a little later. While there was an onboard computer that controlled the suit, it was not an A.I., thus did nothing to monitor the occupant. She would need to open the suit. Well, that was part of why she was here wasn’t it? 

+I am lending aid. Please do not fight.+

She waited another few seconds so that hopefully s/he would have enough time to understand, and then activated the controls to open the encounter suit. Bright white light shone immediately, but Nova frowned. It was about 500 lumens too dim…and upon closer inspection, was in fact not the blue-white luminescence she expected, but rather a yellow-white. “Stardust!” she muttered her tabritar’s standard curse.

Most of the current era’s common poisons didn’t affect Vorlons much harsher than the human equivalent of a bad flu. This was worse. “Which means you were targeted,” she realized. This was a poison MADE for Vorlons. “Well, that does narrow down the options,” she intoned as if to reassure the unconscious being.

“The good news is that I only know of a handful of poisons that would affect you this much,” she kept narrating into the silence of the observation room. “Half use the same main ingredient...and you’re yellow. So, we’ll start there.” She took extra care in her sonic selection this time; this was not a mode she used very often and had only included because she had been bored at the time. +I am lending aid. This may injure, but you must be still.+ She repeated herself in the current era’s Common and Terran, just in case that this Vorlon didn’t know First. Pause. No answer (not that one was expected anymore).

She set what appeared to be a lavender LED end against the Vorlon’s skin and activated the screwdriver. The arm jerked slightly before it stilled. “Sorry, sorry!”

(That was also another confirmation that s/he wasn’t conscious. Maybe s/he didn’t know First—it was a really, really old language and maybe they didn’t teach it on the Vorlon homeworld anymore—but as an ambassador, s/he MUST know Common and Terran to be able to communicate with the other ambassadors. Especially MUST know Terran, since Babylon 5 was a Terran station.)

Pulling the screwdriver to her ear to receive the scanned data, she mentally ran almost a dozen calculations…and came up with nothing. “Can’t be any of the rulri derivatives then.” She looked close at the arm and bit her lip in thought..

Nova tried to remember everything she knew of Vorlon biology as well as what she could do with the supplies she had. “Wish I had access to the medbay, but I don’t and you’re too big to move even if I did.” She grimaced. “But you’re yellow. What would cause you to go yellow if it isn’t rulruient?

“What if it’s pale orange?” came an unexpected deep voice.

She turned with a jump and a squeak.

There was a man facing away from her, barely in the doorway. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not looking.” He wasn’t looking because the Vorlons had probably told him it was either forbidden or against their religion or dangerous or something else ridiculous. Or, given what she knew of the species, they might have just demanded he not look and left it at that, expecting obedience. “I’m a doctor. He’s my patient. I just want to help.”

Nova winced but nodded. Then, realizing he couldn’t see, said, “Fine, get over here, but don’t open your eyes.”

He used his hands to feel where the table in the middle of the room was and stopped there. The door slid shut behind him. “Why can’t I look? Doctor-patient confidentiality ensures my silence, even on Babylon 5.”

She was quiet for a bit as she tried to think of a way to explain. Finally, she settled on a compromise between the truth and a lie. “It’s hard to describe in this language, but the best I can think of is that the Vorlons emit a light spectrum that can induce a strong allergic reaction in other species.”

“A visual  allergy?” he said doubtfully.

“Ever seen a so-called optical illusion that made you go a little queasy? Visual allergies exist. Vorlons emit a light wave, introduced via the retina, whose frequency makes that feel like a nice Sunday drive…and I don’t fancy picking you up off the floor. One annoying patient is enough.”

He was silent for a couple seconds. “Fine, I’ll keep my eyes closed. How can I help? You said his color was wrong.”

Nova gave a small sigh. “Yes. He should be a strong blue-white, but he’s more toward yellow and about half the lumens. I tested for presence of rulri but found none. Except that’s the only thing I can think of that would turn him yellow.” She noticed the gender the doctor had assigned and proceeded to use it. Sex didn’t affect poisonings that she knew of. It wasn’t like the poison had entered through the genitals. The thought made her pause. “How DID the poison get into his system?”

“Unknown.”

“Well, let’s find out.” She began to run her sonic along the Vorlon’s limbs.

“What’s that buzzing?”

“My…scanner.” Telling the doctor that it was a screwdriver wouldn’t validate her expertise at all; no matter that it did LOTS more than assemble cabinets. “Foreign substance all throughout, but… Here! There’s a stronger concentration in his hand.” She tilted her head in confusion. “Localized density to fingers and palm… Inferior and posterior…” she knew she sounded as baffled as the expression he couldn’t see.

They both contemplated that new bit of information for several long seconds.

“Almost sounds like a handshake,” the doctor muttered, almost to himself.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. A handshake. So… What? The asshole coated his hand in some protective something-or-other, then a layer of poison, and shook the ambassador’s hand? That’s ridiculous! Not to mention…”

“What?”

Nova shrugged, “Well, it’s just…Vorlons don’t open their encounter suits very often. Almost never. So why did this Vorlon do so? It can’t be the standard reasons—as an ambassador, he would bypass a security check.”

Another pause. “Can you get a sample I can analyze?”

“Already on it.”

Pause. “I thought you said it was a scanner.” He noticed how the chirping-buzz changed when she altered the setting.

“It’s multipurpose.” 

“Anything I might be able to acquire?” If one tool could do many things it was worth the expense. As CMO, he controlled the budget.

“Considering it took me 53 years to become proficient enough for Tabri to stop harping about it, doubtful,” she said with a great deal of humor.

“Fifty-three years?”

“I’m older than I look.” There was an increase in the buzz. “Hold out your hand.” He did so and felt as a petri dish—he’d dealt with enough of them in his training to know one by feel—was set into his palm. “That’s the sample.” He felt hands on his shoulder and went willingly as he was guided from the room. “Analyze, make an antidote if you can, and I’ll administer it. Then we can all go home without getting into trouble.”

“On it,” he acknowledged. While his analyzer was working, he said, “You know what I’m wondering?”

“What?” The door was still open, but she was in the isolation room out of sight.

“Who did he THINK he was shaking hands with that would make him want to open his suit?”

“That…is a very good question.” It also brought to the fore that whoever this Vorlon thought he was shaking hands with obviously wasn’t  who he was actually shaking hands. “Your assassin disguised themselves to look like someone else.” She stated the obvious, but someone had to say it. “Someone that the Vorlon ambassador would trust implicitly.”

“The ambassador JUST arrived. Who would he—could  he—trust that well?”

Nova shook her head, just as baffled. What they had reasoned through made logical sense, and yet didn’t. “I have absolutely no idea.” Vorlons as a species didn’t trust anyone very easily. (It was hard to trust anyone you considered inferior; which with very few exceptions Vorlons considered everyone else part of the ‘lesser’ or ‘young’ races). “In this era, the Vorlons are probably closest to the Minbari…but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

They each contemplated possibilities until his analyzer stopped whirring. He read the results aloud to be heard through the doorway, “Cerluni makes up 72% of the substance, nariene 12%, bulotreine 7%—”

Her voice cut him off. “Did you say cerluni?”

“Yes, why? It’s a binding agent.”

“No…well, yes, it’s a binding agent for humans, but for Vorlons, it’s right adjacent to rulri on their equivalent periodic table. Not quite rulri, which turns them yellow, but not quite juldi, which can turn them red, but in between.”

“Near enough to this ‘rulri’ to poison him?” he interrupted her train of thought.

“Yes, it very well could,” she paused, remembering how he had entered the room, “and turned him a pale orange. You were right.”

“So were you,” he assured. “I’ll get on synthesizing an antidote. Unless you…?”

“It’s all you, doctor.”

+++B5+++

09.19.2021

Not long after, she was smiling, “He’s looking better.” She activated the mechanism to close the suit. “He’s increased 21 lumens already and is on his way to a nice orange-white. He’ll be red for probably about an hour or so, then lighten to blue. I’d estimate he’ll be back up and all judgmental in around 2.3 hours. Very nice job, doctor.”

“I never did introduce myself, did I? Dr. Benjamin Kyle.” He turned in the swivel chair, his eyes closed as he came fully forward. He didn’t know her species or occupation, but he did know that she knew more about Vorlon biology than he, the xenobiologist, did, and had a feeling that she was breaking a few rules to be here.

Ben was a firm believer in doctor-patient confidentiality, but whoever this woman was, she was not his patient. However, she had helped his patient and he didn’t want to hinder her in any way. In fact… “Is there a way to contact you? If he takes a turn for the worse?” he added the last when she didn’t immediately agree.

“Not easily,” she sighed. “I only heard about him because one of my littles likes to eavesdrop.” Ben frowned at that, now seriously wondering who was in his medbay if she hadn’t been sent by the embassy or the Vorlon home council. An unaffiliated passerby who happened to overhear information and came to investigate? Unlikely! “Who—”

“Lady!” a small voice cut him off. “Light hours are about to start. We need to go.”

Ben frowned harder. He couldn’t tell by the cadence the species, gender, or age of the speaker. The voice was very androgenous. He turned to look but didn’t see more than a hand grasping the doorframe, holding the doors open. The dark hand was just as androgenous as the speaker.

“Yes, yes. Here,” the woman’s voice was closer. “Eyes closed.” He obeyed rather reluctantly. He felt a small circular metal something pressed into his hand.

“Lady!”  the voice was more urgent. “Someone’s coming!”

“Push the button if you need me. I’ll come if I can.”

“On behalf of my patient, thank you.” He paused. “But…who are you?”

The door slid shut. He never heard her reply.

Instead, less than a minute later, the newly assigned Psi Corps operative walked in. Lyta Alexander gave him a small smile of greeting. “Dr. Benjamin Kyle? Takashima said you wanted to speak with me?”

Ben grimaced. Given what he now knew, or rather DIDN’T know about this ‘Lady’, perhaps he should get another opinion. For confirmation.

09.17.2021

2200hrs January 8, 2257

Garibaldi, Head of Security for the diplomatic station Babylon 5, was developing a rather large headache. He was also sincerely hoping this wasn’t a preview of how interacting with Vorlons would make his life. It had been a REALLY long ‘day’ that had lasted approximately fifty-two hours.

“Let me see if I have this right,” he didn’t look up to those gathered in his office—if he looked at them, his headache would get worse, he just knew it. “Ambassador Kosh Naranek arrives two days early, is greeted by an unknown assassin impersonating the captain by wearing a changling net, an illegal item that somehow got passed your asses. The Vorlon is poisoned and promptly collapses. He is taken to the infirmary where the Advisory Council tells anyone who stops long enough to listen that we can’t take his suit off. Dr. Benjamin Kyle does his best with what he can without going against the Council, which is only about as much as figuring out it IS a poison.”

He hears someone make a noise as if they want to butt in on his summary, but he holds up a finger. “Ooh, I’m not done.

“While all this is going on, rumors are flying around about what this means for the station and get so far as to alert a heretofore unknown busybody-slash-miracle worker to magically appear in the medbay to ascertain what she can do for the ambassador. No one sees how she got in and no one knows what she looks like. This ‘Lady’ disappears as quickly as she appeared, with only a button and a healed Vorlon to show for it. She has at least one accomplice that we know of who played lookout, but we have no clue of even things as simple as gender or age—we only have a description of...” He picked up a piece of paper and read, “quote ‘the hand was a darker shade, about average in size,’ end quote, which could mean anything from a human to a minbari to a centauri or, hell, even a narn!

“So, to sum up… We don’t know her name. We don’t know how she got here. We don’t know how she gets around. We don’t know who she’s associated with. We don’t know what she knows, OR how she knows them. We don’t even know her SPECIES…!” Garibaldi finally looked up at those present and did his best not to growl. Professional. He was professional. “Is that about right?”

They didn’t answer verbally, instead barely nodding once.

“Fine,” his tone was short and not a growl. “What DO we know about this woman?”

“She’s female…?” one offered.

“…and nobility,” said another.

Michael Garibaldi closed his eyes again. “Lady can be a noble title. It can also be a title of endearment. Or a cultural affectation that has nothing to do with land ownership. We have over a dozen species and cultures on this bucket of bolts. MOST of them have ‘Lady’ in there somewhere.”

“Or it could be an alias,” Takashima said almost conversationally.

Garibaldi finally gave into the urge and groaned, loud and long. “So, we know nothing. Someone was able to get into a supposedly secure area and get out again without anyone seeing anything and we know nothing. Jesus-fucking-Christ.”

No one spoke.

He stood up and glared at them all. “This is a diplomatic vessel, and we have to keep the peace between twenty-eight different species. If we can’t guarantee the ambassadors’ safety, then how are we going to keep things calm in the Zocalo? Or in Downbelow?

“That changeling net should never have gotten passed the initial screening. And NO ONE should be able to walk down a corridor  without being caught on camera, let alone one of the main areas!”

The Head of Security eyed those gathered, most trying valiantly not to fidget or squirm. “You were all the ones on duty when these breaches of security took place. As such, you are all suspended, without pay, until I can personally evaluate your competency to BE security personnel on this ship.” He waited, then barked, “Dismissed, damnit!”

They scattered, leaving only the first officer, Lieutenant Colonel Laurel Takashima. She watched him for a couple seconds before adding her own two cents worth, “It could be worse.”

“How? How could it possibly be worse?”

“She could’ve used the infirmary computers to plant a virus that shuts down all life support systems.”

Michael glared. He punched the intercom hard enough that part of his brain (the non-angry part) wondered if he’d have to replace it. “Get me I.T. NOW!”

09.20.2021

January 2257 – Garibaldi tries to use button to trap Nova, doesn’t work  ; he tries several times over several months to use button Nova gave Dr. Kyle to trap & interrogate her, never works ; he gives up & gives button back to Dr. Kyle

Chapter Text

November 23, 2257

Garibaldi had been hearing rumors of “the Lady of Downbelow” for months. It was easy to link her to the mysterious miracle-worker who had cured Ambassador Kosh at the beginning of the year. The stories were nearly identical:

1. The Lady came and went unseen
2. The Lady could heal nearly anything for any species
3. No one knew her background
4. The Lady ran an unofficial medical clinic & soup kitchen

His informant was adamant that the soup kitchen was only available for lunch and that while technically free, the Lady took whatever those could afford. Many helped doing various chores for their share, though the Lady provided materials and ingredients.

But, finally, Michael had heard a location  to find this Lady (instead of her magically appearing when needed and then disappearing right after). Thus, Michael found himself on a Monday afternoon, making his way down to Brown Sector for lunch.

As soon as Garibaldi stepped off the ‘vator, he knew that whatever he had thought about this woman was far off the mark. Immediately he noticed that the corridor was cleaner than any he’d seen in Brown before other than main areas in the upper levels. There was no trash on the floor and barely any dirt. There were at least twenty people in view, but over half of them were working.

There were six going along a line of a large table; the first set down a plate, the next a cup, what he thought might be a small napkin, then a spoon went onto the napkin, the next was pouring a blue liquid into the cups, and the last placed a hunk of bread on the plate. Another group, working ahead of the six, were setting chairs, stools, boxes, and basically anything that could possibly be used as a seat, in front of the table.

Off to the side, Michael saw a group of four around an open flame and the biggest pot he’d ever seen, being stirred by the largest Narn he’d ever seen, using the largest wooden spoon he’d ever seen. (Really, the spoon might be an old rowboat oar, it was that big!) Those around the stirring Narn were putting in a variety of cut vegetables, only some of which Michael could identify, and spices.

“You’re new.” He turned to the voice and saw a semi-clean female. Probably human. Perhaps late teens or early twenties. Brown hair and eyes. “Welcome to Brown-12.”

“Thanks. I had heard…” he let it trail off, lost for words.

“I’m Saldri, and this,” s/he swept their arm to encompass the entire scene, “is what it looks like just before first lunch.”

“First  lunch?”

“There’s three lunch shifts.” Saldri nodded. “You’re new, so it’s part of my job to tell you the rules. There’s more than enough for everyone, so no bullying of any form is tolerated. And there’s no such thing as a free lunch, so each person is expected to do what they can, when they can.”

“From each according to his ability, to each according to his need,” Michael quoted almost absently, watching the controlled chaos.

Saldri nodded again, more enthusiastically. “I’ve heard the Lady say that exact thing lots of times.” Her eyes lit up slightly when she spoke of the Lady. “Both for lunches and for first-aid.”

Michael very much doubted that Saldri knew who Karl Marx was, or how communism worked. However, the Lady apparently did. He wondered if she also knew how Marxism had worked out practically. “Does ‘the Lady’ read a lot?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Saldri gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Why?”

“Famous German philosopher said it about 400 years ago.”

“Actually,” a voice filled with humor came from his left, “Karl Marx only popularized the phrase in his 1875 published work Critique of the Gotha Program. However, in reality, it was first said in 1755 by French utopian Etienne-Gabriel Morelly, who in his Code of Nature, said ‘every citizen will make his particular contribution to the activities of the community according to his capacity, his talent, and his age; it is on this basis that his duties will be determined, in conformity with the distributive laws’.”

He raking his eyes up and down the woman who had approached. She had a kind smile and there was no judgement in her strange blue-purple eyes, though he had a feeling they could—and would—become as firm as steel when the occasion called for it. This was a woman who would tolerate no nonsense or rough play unless it was time  for those things. The phrase ‘everything has a time and place’  came to mind when looking at her.

“You’re very well-read,” Michael observed.

Her smile widened, “More than most, but not as much as some.” She smiled at the girl. “It’s alright, Saldri, I’ll take it from here.” The girl looked incredibly reluctant, but obediently retreated, eyeing him warily as she did so. As if she expected him to suddenly attack the newcomer and Saldri wanted to be close enough to defend the woman. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael realized that several others had straightened and were paying more attention to his new conversationalist.

Other than the odd shade of her irises, she looked perfectly average for a human. Average height, average build, average weight, average clothes for someone living in Brown Sector. “You’re ‘the Lady’?” It almost wasn’t a question. Who else could go so many places unseen than someone utterly ordinary and forgettable?

Her smile widened and she nodded. “Indeed I am.” Her eyes flicked over him. “Judging by your uniform, you are an official B5 security officer. We don’t get many officials down here.” Her voice held a touch of teasing humor, “Are you here to charge me rent?”

There were a multitude of things that went through his mind that he wanted to say or ask. Everything from how she knew about Vorlons, to who she was, where she came from, how she got into medbay without being seen by the cameras, and more. Instead, he shook his head. “Unless it’s an official space, we technically can’t. This,” he gestured to the area, “doesn’t count.” He was silent for a few seconds. “You established communism in the Downbelow.”

The Lady snorted, “Stardust, no! I very much doubt that’s even possible. If anyone actually studied political ideologies, they’d understand socialism doesn’t work for any length of time. However, there are a couple aspects of communism that can be worked with. We also have principles of authoritarianism, democracy, anarchy, libertarianism, and several others. I doubt our system has a name, but it works for us…which is all that really matters.” Her smile became sad as she eyed the tableau. “I often wonder if I’m doing more harm than good here. Giving them a false sense of safety and expectations…”

“Why do you stay?”

She sighed and shook her head, “Oh, many reasons… I’m well aware that the security and protection that I offer isn’t available even a single level up or down. It’s only here. However, here they feel safe enough to converse,” she gestured to one side where a white-haired female human was sitting and chatting with a young male Centauri, “or play,” a group of teens were dancing to music played on garbage-instruments, “or practice their skills, or even learn new skills without fears that they will be taken advantage of.”

The group of cooks and cleaners were gathering, and a call went out, which was the signal that it was time to eat based on what happened next. Those already present created a line without pushing or intimidation, one crate served as a table and held stacks of bowls which were picked up, then the line moved to where the giant pot of soup waited. From there they took their newly filled bowl to a seating place. Groups formed and conversed amiably, with only a few loners by themselves.

“In reality, at best we have a small oasis in a sea of thieves and murderers, but it’s ours,” she finished.

Michael watched, caught between disbelief and grim understanding. “Why not use the upper levels, or the Zocalo?”

“The Zocalo is mainly for buying and selling items or gambling or such. These people have no money, and not many skills or references to get a job in order to get  credits. They don’t have the money to start a business to sell things they make, or to begin to create them. They are the crack of society that most are willing to overlook or ignore. As for the upper levels…the lower levels are home to the more unsavory  characters that are not welcome here—”

“Thieves and murderers,” he cut in grimly, echoing her earlier words.

“I don’t mind them as much as I probably should, but yes—”

“You don’t mind thieves and murderers?” he cut her off again, incredulous.

She sighed heavily, sadly, and gave a half-hearted shrug. “It depends on why they’re a thief or murderer.” There was a lot more understanding in her posture and tone than he would have expected. He doubted she was a thief or murderer—she didn’t have the right demeanor—but someone she cared about deeply WAS and she knew enough of ‘why’ they had become such that she could no longer hold judgement on other such thieves and murderers. At least until after she knew their story.

Garibaldi was certainly getting a very good picture of this Lady’s character. She was a bleeding-heart cynic, a contradiction. She had no illusions as to the permanency of what she had created, nor how far it extended, nor what possible problems she could expect, but she also couldn’t stop helping others that had nowhere else to turn. “How do you pay for all this?”

Her smile flipped instantly to humor-filled secrecy. “It’s amazing what people throw away as unsalvageable.”

He looked at her in disbelief. Not just at her comment, but also her fast switch from morose to playful. “The food? The supplies? Where do you get them?”

“Amazing what you can learn from books,” she evaded.

He suddenly realized that the woman had essentially created a community center in the Downbelow. “Sooo, you have a secondary location.” She had to have. There was too much here that was right out in the open; too much of a temptation to steal.

“Yes.”

“Where you somehow get and store supplies.”

“Yes.”

“Food.”

“Yes.”

“A garden.”

“Yes.”

“Salvage?”

“Yes.”

“Trash?”

“Yes.”

“Cobble them together.”

“Yes.”

“Fix them.”

“Yes.”

“You take in strays.”

“Yes.”

“Help them.”

“Yes.”

“Like the Vorlon ambassador.”

“Yes.”

The Chief of Security had deliberately led her down a length of single word responses so that she would get to where she wouldn’t think about her answers. Enough questions like that and the answers come automatically. He now had confirmation of his suspicion that she was the one that had broken into the medlab in January to help Kosh. “Why?”

She blinked at him. It wasn’t a yes/no answer this time. He noted her wince when she realized what he had talked her into revealing. She sighed. He almost expected her to ask him about blackmail or coercion. Instead, she answered his question, “Because he needed help…and no one else could.” There was more to it than that, he could see it in her eyes, but that was a majority, and it fit right into what he already knew of her personality.

“Are you going to shut us down?” she asked after they were silent for a long minute, still watching those around them as they finished eating and began to file through, placing their used dishes into a large pile set up exactly for that purpose. Nearby were three washing stations where those first done eating had already begun to clean.

Garibaldi shook his head, “It’s not my decision to make, but you aren’t doing anything illegal or harmful, so I doubt the commander will kick up much fuss.” He gave his own shrug as he let it trail off. “Though, might want to tell Kosh.”

She blinked at him. “Why?”

Another tip to her character. She didn’t expect reciprocity. She had literally saved a life and expected nothing in return. Not even a thank you. It put a slightly different spin on Brown-12; he would bet credits that the main reason she’d started was by accident, and bets were children to have first drawn her in. It had grown by increments, as she realized that more was needed, and she made up piecemeal guidelines based on each need. But none of this had been planned from the beginning; she hadn’t come to Babylon 5 in order to set up Brown-12. She had fallen into it and still she didn’t expect any praise. In fact, he’d bet she was baffled by the recognition she did obtain.

Which begged the question: what kind of life had she experienced that the result was a bleeding-heart cynical realist who also knew more about Vorlon biology than the xenobiologist medical doctor? “Because having an ambassador owe you one could come in handy.”

Michael knew that the bystanders were still eyeing him and his proximity to her as if he were a potential threat. He knew that if he made a move as if to arrest her or even try to get her in a private area to speak quietly, those bystanders would jump to her defense and he would have a bad day. He needed to tread lightly. Attempting to find the answers to the rest of his questions couldn’t be done here.

He needed more information and a plan. He began to walk away, then paused and turned, as if he had just thought to ask, “What’s your name?”

She looked back at him, then a small smile bloomed, “Nova. Nova Morganson. You?”

“Michael Garibaldi.”

“It was lovely to meet you, Michael.”

“Likewise.”

And with that, the Head of Security exited Brown-12, and went back up to the main decks. Now that he had an actual name, he could start a security search. He wanted to know everything there was to know about one Nova Morganson, the Lady of Downbelow.

Chapter Text

0900 November 24, 2257

“Commander Sinclair?”

He tapped the communications link on the back of his hand. “Here,” he replied.

“You have a priority gold transmission coming in from Earth Central.” There was a slight pause. “It’s Gold Channel One, sir.”

Gold Channel was of the highest level of security and had priority-one over any other messages being transmitted at the time. Only Earthforce command-staff or high-level diplomats were allowed access to the channel. Any transmission on Gold Channel was considered official Earth Alliance business and thus could not be used for personal reasons under penalty of a court-martial. Gold Channel One was a direct line to the Office of the President of the Earth Alliance.

Jeffrey Sinclair, commander of Babylon 5, raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t think of anything off the top of his head to warrant such a call. “On my way.” Jeffrey knew that any call from the president or his staff would need privacy, so he made his way to his office at a quick pace. (Fast enough to move efficiently but not fast enough to warrant suspicion.) In less than five minutes he was in front of his private office console, he tapped the screen to accept the call.

Jeffrey thanked his great many years of experience to holding a perfectly flat expression when the face of Morgan Clark, the Vice-President of the Earth Alliance, appeared. “Mr. Vice-President, what can I do for you?”

Clark wasn’t quite glaring, but it was close. He apparently wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. “Someone on Babylon 5 used the E.A. database at 1317 hours yesterday to look into one Nova Morganson. They spent the next 23 minutes going through every Nova Morganson in the system before settling on one incredibly specific Nova Morganson.” He also wasn’t in the mood for playing around either. A half-blurred photo of a nondescript woman with blue-purple eyes at a three-quarter view suddenly shared the screen with Clark. “THIS woman. Who is looking into Nova Morganson? And why?”

Sinclair wondered what his first officers had neglected to tell him. “I’m afraid I’m not aware of the situation, sir, but I will speak with my command staff at the earliest opportunity.”

The not-quite-glare became a full glare. “I expect your call within the hour.”

The screen blinked off.

Sinclair took a second to gather his thoughts. Then he tapped his communicator. “Sinclair to Garibaldi. I need to see you and Takashima in my office A-SAP.”

When his Security Chief and First Officer were in front of him eight minutes later, he looked at the pair incredulously. “I just got a call from Morgan Clark. Who is Nova Morganson?”

Laurel Takashima looked appropriately baffled, shrugging in confusion. Michael Garibaldi, however, blinked. “Clark called you about her?”

“Yes, your channel search on her yesterday put up flags. I’m to call him back in less than an hour with a status update. What’s going on, Mike?”

Quickly, Garibaldi laid out the situation as best he understood it, from the Kosh incident to his conversation with her the day before. “She’s basically set up a community center in Brown-12. Once I had her name, I ran a search. But the weird part is that the only Nova Morganson that fit the description of the woman in Downbelow has only a list of contacts. There’s no listed date of birth, area of residency, species, no records of employment. Nothing. I thought the system had been hacked and decided to check my other contacts.”

Sinclair had remained silent as his friend outlined what he knew. “Who were the listed contacts for her?”

“Jack Harkness, location unknown, but there must be some mistake in Records. It had his date of birth in the year 1869, and no date of death. There was a long list of deceased contacts, one of which was former PM Harriet Jones, of the Golden Age of Britain, if you believe it. The last wasn’t even a name, it was a crack phone number.”

Jeff frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It was an actual  phone number, not a call sign, channel number, or extension. One of the old ten-digit phone numbers.” Michael looked just as annoyed as he sounded. “I don’t even know if that technology exists anymore, let alone how someone would DIAL it.”

“Ten digits?” Takashima had been quiet during this; now she expressed her own bafflement. “Phone numbers haven’t been that short for over a hundred years.”

“I know,” Michael nodded. “Nothing about this woman makes sense. But she doesn’t seem like a threat to me, and you know my instincts are pretty good.”

Sinclair tapped the desk as he thought through the information tossed at him. “Alright, back to your duties. I’ve got to call Clark.” They both nodded and left him in privacy.

The Gold Channel One call went through in record time. The Vice-President must have been waiting right beside the console to accept the call that quickly. “Well?” Clark demanded.

Sinclair outlined what he had learned as quickly as he could. When he was done, he asked, “Sir, who is she?”

Morgan Clark had gone from pacing in front of the view screen to sitting behind his desk, much more relaxed. “Was there any mention of a man with her?”

“Several children and a group of non-humans that live in Brown Sector. Any specific male?”

Clark snorted derisively. “If he had been there, someone would have said something. He’s hard to miss.”

“Is she a security risk?”

“Not in the way you mean.”

Sinclair narrowed his eyes. “Mr. Vice-President, I understand this is difficult for you, but this woman, whoever she is, is on Babylon 5 right now. Who is Nova Morganson that just a general database inquiry sets off red flags? Who is she?”

Morgan took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “You and Babylon 5 have managed to stumble upon one of the best kept secrets in the E.A. I can’t tell you everything,” he held up a hand to forestall the expected protest, “simply because I don’t know. I’ll tell you what I do know.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Nova Morganson has a backup hardcopy file that even the vice-president doesn’t have complete clearance to view un-redacted.” As if to prove his words, he held up a page—and actual physical paper page!—that looked almost solid black. Only a single word here and there to indicate it wasn’t a printer error. “This file,” he tapped a stack that Sinclair had assumed was a To Do pile, “is over twenty centimeters thick and there’s more on the floor, just as thick.

“From what I’ve been able to read, Morganson herself isn’t a main factor…but she travels with one of the most dangerous people I’ve ever had the misfortune to learn exists. We’ll pray this is one of the few times she travels without him.”

When Clark paused as if lost in his thoughts, Sinclair asked, “Sir, when my security chief looked into her file, he said that she had no birth listed, no residence, no—”

The vice-president held up a finger. “That’s because she doesn’t have one. Officially, Nova Morganson is not part of the Earth Alliance.”

Sinclair blinked. “She’s not human?”

“No, Nova Morganson is completely ‘other’. Species redacted.” Clark sighed. He seemed to be doing a lot of that. “If you can, I’d recommend getting her on the Advisory Council or the League of Non-Aligned Worlds, but if you can’t I wouldn’t be surprised. She, and the man she travels with, are notorious for being somewhere between indispensable and catastrophic. BUT,” again he forestalled the objection he could see on the commander’s face, “if, as your man reported, she has been there, without him, for more than a year and nothing has happened…then that bodes well.”

He sat fully upright and Sinclair understood that this was the Vice-President ordering the Commander of Babylon 5. “Babylon 5 is to render all assistance to Nova Morganson for as long as she is in residence. No one is to hinder her in any way. She has the full authority from the President,” at these a flash of the presidential seal of the entire Earth Alliance appeared, certifying his words, “to command any and all Earth Alliance personnel, including you, as needed. Approach her at your own discretion. There will be an advisor on the first available transport, who you will report any interactions with Morganson. Details to follow.”

The screen went blank.

Jeffery Sinclair blinked several times as he thought.

Who WAS Nova Morganson? And what was she doing on his station?

Perhaps he should go introduce himself…

“Commander? We’ve got a problem.”

He stood, straightened his uniform, and went to find out what had gone wrong now.

Chapter Text

November 29, 2257

“I think that’s him.” Sinclair used his chin to point.

Indeed, the tall male walking toward them matched the picture they had been provided. Shaggy brown hair and laughing blue eyes, with a large boyish smile, his features were distinctive. His stride was smooth as he approached. He immediately held out his hand as he introduced himself. “Boe Harker, advisor for Nova Morganson.” Both men got the impression that Harker was propositioning them, but neither commented, choosing to ignore the tonal innuendo instead.

“Jeffrey Sinclair, commander of Babylon 5.”

“Michael Garibaldi, chief of security.”

“Very nice to meet you both.” Harker looked around, then faced them with a raised eyebrow. “Where’s Nova?”

Garibaldi said conversationally, “Didn’t Jeff mention that we can’t reliably find Morganson?” And he had tried! It was swiftly becoming his new mission: find where Nova Morganson and her people went when they weren’t in Brown-12. “Unless it’s noon or evening, we can’t find her.”

Harker grinned, “So she doesn’t know I’m coming.”

It wasn’t a question, but Sinclair answered anyway, “We haven’t had a chance to tell her, no.”

“Ha! That’ll be fun.”

Michael blinked at the reaction. “You know Morganson?”

“Her and Smith. That’s why they sent me.”

“Who is Smith?”

“Nova’s adoptive father. One of his more common aliases is Doctor John Smith.”

“Seriously?”

Harker shrugged, “Personally, I think he finds it funny. That or it’s a habit. If everyone knows John Smith is bogus, they don’t bother looking further.”

Sinclair nodded. It did make a small kind of sense. “Well Mr. Harker, we’ve set you up in Blue Sector—”

“No,” he interrupted firmly, no room for argument. “Either I’m staying with Nova, or I’m leaving.”

“Mr. Harker—”

He again interjected, this time grimly, “Look, Commander. I’m only here because of her. If she needs me, I’ll be staying. If she doesn’t, I’ve got other places to be.”

“Aren’t you here to act as an advisor? How can you advise if you aren’t staying?” Garibaldi asked grimly.

Harker smirked, “Dealing with Nova and the Doctor is easy: do what they tell you and stay out of their way.” He tapped his chin mock-thoughtfully. “Try not to draw their attention.” He gave a sharp nod. “There, you’ve been advised.”

Garibaldi and Sinclair looked  at him. “That’s all?”

Harker nodded. “Pretty much.”

The head of security shook his head, “Who is she? What’s their species? Why is she here? What—”

“You don’t seem to understand how advising works,” he was back to being grim. “I advise you on how to interact with her. I do NOT tell her secrets.” Then yet another boyish smile. “Not that she has that many secrets. The woman is a terrible  liar and she knows it, so usually doesn’t bother trying. Just ask her, she’ll probably tell you.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now! Let’s go find her.”

“When we can find her, she’s in Brown-12,” Sinclair gestured toward the left. “I’ll show you the way.”

The three men made their way down to Brown-12 with not much more conversation beyond ‘this is a nice station’, ‘thank you’, and other standard niceties. When they reached the large area, just as clean and straightened as Garibaldi remembered, Harker looked around. While there were several groups of people around, none were Morganson. Instead of being disheartened, Harker cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted at the top of his lungs, “HEY STARSHINE!” He paused, waiting for a reply.

Harker certainly got attention from those loitering in Brown-12, but it was bored curiosity rather than hostility. Garibaldi knew that if Boe had yelled ‘Lady’ instead, those barely interested now would quickly change to a laser-focused open aggression.

“STARDUST!” Another pause. “STARBUCK!”

“Jack!” the voice came from their left. And there she was, hair tousled and breathing slightly hard, as if she had run. She ran forward the last few steps, where he caught and lifted her; spinning them both in a circle before letting her drop down to the floor.

Now came the expressions of ready violence, both Earth Alliance officers noted. However, they also saw that the aggression was radically tempered. Not only had the observers noticed Harker’s attention to their Lady, but they also were aware of her reaction to him.

Harker’s smile matched her own. “Nice to see you again, Starbutt.”

Nova rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “You know I hate those stupid nicknames.”

The pair obviously knew each other well enough to treat one another like long lost family; a teasing brotherly greeting and tolerated habitual response. This restrained the Brown-12 onlookers more than anything Garibaldi himself could do. In fact, invoking his authority as a security operative would no doubt have made the situation worse; giving viewers an excuse to ‘defend’ their Lady.

This further evidence of the Lady of Downbelow’s own version of ‘security’ worried Garibaldi…especially since he was almost 100% positive she did not request it, and (given what he already knew of her personality) probably was not even aware of its existence. Such potential violence needed to be tempered, and the only thing holding these people back was the Lady herself. Yet, if she was not aware of it, then she could not direct them.

Harker’s smile was more genuine now than when he had first arrived. “But they always get your attention.” He hugged her again before stepping back. “So how are you, Starshine?”

She gave a soft laugh, shaking her head. “How long’s it been for you?”

“Hmmm…’bout a buck-fifty, give or take. You?”

“Seventy-ish.”

They grinned at each other for several seconds. “Lady?” They all looked over to see a little face filled with uncertainty. “Who is he, Lady?”

“ ‘Lady’?” Harker raised an eyebrow.

Nova smiled at the child and held out a hand. “Charlie, come meet a very good friend of mine.” She tucked the girl into her arms and faced Harker. “Charlie, this is—”

“Boe Harker,” he smiled brilliantly.

Nova blinked at that bit of information, but didn’t pause long. “Boe and I have been friends ever since I was a little girl.”

Garibaldi twitched at her hesitation, realizing that ‘Boe Harker’ was an alias. Then he remembered that she called him ‘Jack’, and there was that small bit of information on her file contact list…

It looked like Boe Harker was Jack Harkness.

+++B5+++

“What are you doing here, Jack?” Nova asked. The four of them were in a small alcove off the main hall.

“I’m here because these guys,” he pointed over his shoulder with a thumb, “asked for help dealing with you.”

She laughed. “And what did you tell them?”

“The standard,” his own voice filled with humor. Then he sobered a bit. “Why are YOU here, No’? They said you’ve been here over a year. Why so long? Where’s the Doc?”

She shook her head. “It’s not like you’re thinking. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Okaaay,” he drawled. “Then why are you here?”

“I’m graduating,” she grinned. “This is my final project.” While Gallifrey no longer existed, the records and materials were still available via the TARDIS library. She’d been doing self-study of the Academy’s curriculum for a long time.

“What?” His mouth hung open. “You’re graduating? That’s fantastic!” He hugged her. Then he pulled back and tilted his head quizzically. “Your graduation project is…here?” he gestured to their surroundings.

“Well, not HERE-here. Not Brown-12. Babylon 5.”

Sinclair and Garibaldi stiffened, but both were ignored.

“The whole station?” Jack asked in confusion.

She grimaced. “Well, no, not really. This is just as close as I could get until it’s closer.”

He blinked. “What?”

Nova let out a small huff. “There’s a large fixed point near here. My graduation project is to make sure it all goes according to plan. Lots of the elements that are needed are on B5, or close by. People and materials.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “You’ve been here a year though. How close is it?”

She grimaced again. “Not nearly as close as I thought. Probably another two or three years.” A huff. “I oopsed on the timing.”

“Downcheck.”

“Yeah,” she groused. “Though it’s not like he  can always land when he wants!”

Harker gave a low amused whistle, remembering countless times they had crashed or been off by several decades or centuries. “Sooo, where’s the Doc?”

“It’s my final project. All my decisions, start to finish. He’s hanging out in the Vortex, just in case, but otherwise…” she shrugged. “It’s all me.”

“…Guess I probably shouldn’t stay, then.”

“As much as I love having you around, no. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “I understand, Starlight, don’t worry. Just promise me you’ll come visit when you’re all graduated. We’ll party for a week!”

She laughed, nodding. “Promise.”

He looked at the main thoroughfare that was barely in view. “So basically, you’re doing all that,” he gestured, “because you’re bored.”

“I prefer to think of it as occupying my time,” she said primly, then ruined it by giggling. “And really, when Tabri gets bored, we end up fixing things that aren’t broken. Setting up a medcenter, soup kitchen, and school are waaay more productive.”

“School?” Garibaldi pounced on the word. He hadn’t heard anything about a school.

“You’re teaching?” Jack grinned.

“Yeah, there’s a few groups of homeless kids. I do a little bit in the mornings with them.”

“You, who are about to graduate,” Jack’s smile widened, “from the Academy of Gallifrey,” his grin grew with each word, “are teaching twenty-third century kids?”

She rolled her eyes, “It’s not like that.”

“I’m sure.”

“It isn’t!”

“Uh huh.” Nova stuck out her tongue at him, which made him laugh. “How old’s the youngest?” he asked.

“Karianne just turned 9.”

Jack nearly fell out of his chair, he was laughing so hard.

She crossed her arms defensively and pouted. “It’s not THAT funny!”

“Yes / it / is,” he managed between guffaws.

“What’s the joke?” Sinclair couldn’t help but ask.

Jack was still laughing. Between snorts, he tried to explain. “The joke is / is that when she / she gets done / with those kids / they’ll know more / more than ANYONE / from ANY planet / EVER! Ahahahaha!” He had repeated several words around the cackles.

Sinclair and Garibaldi blinked in confusion. That brought up more questions than it answered. It seemed to be an ongoing theme with these two.

Nova rolled her eyes. “I am being VERY careful,” she denied. “Complete with lesson plans and it’s mostly practical knowledge anyway. My five littles helped me build a hydroponics garden, including the design and all the math beforehand. Danny was quite good at the geometry and Charlie caught onto the maintenance very quickly.”

His chortles were finally subsiding, though his grin remained. “Starshine, when you finally leave, those kids will have the most thorough and off-the-wall education of anyone this generation, and you know it.”

“Well, maybe…but it’s good for them!”

Jack dissolved back into giggles. They all impatiently waited for him to sober. Doing so, he got onto a new topic, “Do any of these ambassadors know who you are?”

She snorted. “No, and you’re not going to tell them.”

“Awww, why not? It’d be funny to see them fall all over themselves.”

Rolling eyes. “Because they’d fall all over themselves…or try to kill me. Or kidnap me to get to him. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. I don’t like repeats.”

“Oh, I remember that!” He grinned, “Those idiots still hiding?”

She nodded. “Mmm. A few galaxies over, I think.”

He laughed softly and she sighed. “I helped the Vorlon because no one else could, but I heard later that the doctor opened his armor anyway to confirm my results and a psionic scanned him to learn who poisoned him. They caught hell for it, but that’s not the point.” She shook her head. “If they are going to do all of that anyway, then why tell them?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Because then they wouldn’t second-guess you.”

“They would, and you know it. Especially the humans. Besides, technically, I’m not supposed to interfere that way. It’s not my area. That’s for the Vorlons and Z’ha’di. Gallifrey was first and got the Vortex, because of the Untempered Schism, and they got guardianship of the Seconds.”

“What about the others?”

“Others?”

“Other Firsts,” he clarified.

“All the others are either extinct or left already.” She let out a tired breath. “As far as I know, those’re the only ones still around this galaxy.” Another heavy sigh. “And you know that there’s only the two of us left. One of the Seconds is going to have to step up to the plate eventually…”

He tilted his head. “I thought the schism was the only one of its kind, thus preventing others from evolving those characteristics.”

Nova sighed again. “It is… But he’s on his last generation…and I won’t live forever.”

Jack sobered and nodded. “No one does.”

“No. No one does. Not even you.”

It was a solemn thought, but he forced a smile anyway. “Still, you’ve got a long life ahead of you. Plenty of time to figure out a successor. Maybe one of the Centauri will have the knack for it.”

She snorted. “The Centauri are still fighting amongst themselves and everyone else; they don’t have the right temperament. No, if it would be any of the species currently on B5, it’d have to be a Minbari…they’re the closest…but I’m not sure of even them.” She sighed. “Maybe in a few millennia…”

“Either way, you’ve got the time to find the perfect one,” he smirked at his own joke. “And hey, what’s with all this ‘Lady’ stuff? You’re supposed to choose your name after  you graduate.”

Nova grinned, glad to change the subject. “The kids started calling me that, then it caught on. No one’s called me by name in months! I might be one of the few that gets assigned a name, rather than picking my own.”

“It’s better than Starbutt.”

“EVERYTHING is better than that!”

09.27.2021

Chapter Text

December 2257

Now that they had a name, Sinclair had been going around to all the ambassadors and asking if they knew of the planet. So far, everyone had said no, though Delenn had said it sounded vaguely familiar and she would look in the Minbari archives. 

Now there was only one ambassador left to ask: Kosh. Thus, here he was, wearing a respirator, in the Vorlon ambassador’s quarters. “I came to ask if you’d ever heard of Gallifrey.”

“Why?” Kosh’s suit translated.

“A resident in Brown Sector was overheard saying that they were graduating from an academy on Gallifrey. Out of curiosity, I looked into our records but there’s no reference to the name.” Sinclair was purposefully nebulous. He wanted Kosh to tell him more than the usual riddles. The less the Vorlon knew, the more he’d elaborate...right? Well, it worked with humans…

“Who?”

“Who overheard? Or who said it?” Sinclair mentally sighed after a ten-count with no reply and decided to answer both. “I overheard it from the newest resident of Brown-12.” Another long pause with no response. “She’s known as the Lady of Downbelow.” When Kosh still didn’t respond, he added, “She’s the one who healed you.”

Kosh was silent for long enough that Sinclair decided that must be all he would get out of the Vorlon. Yet, just as he was about to exit completely, Kosh said, “Gallifrey is no more.”

The commander turned, “She’s a refugee.” Kosh didn’t answer. Sinclair resisted the urge to strangle the annoying enigmatic alien, suit or no suit. “How do I treat her?”

“Ambassador.”

Finally an answer! “She said she has to preserve a fixed point. What does that mean?” Another long silence. Sinclair knew that he had more patience than most for the Vorlons, but even he was having trouble with this level of vagary! “Can you tell me anything? Anything useful?”

“Yes,” the suit translated.

Sinclair waited for more, but there was none. “What can you tell me? Why is she here?”

A chime, longer than the others, before it translated, “She works for survival.”

Sinclair frowned. “Survival? Who’s survival?”

“All.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“You seek understanding?”

“Yes! Exactly. Please.”

Another, even longer melody translated, “She dances to her music, not your song.”

Sinclair mentally sighed, perhaps even more confused than when he’d arrived and already knowing he wouldn’t get any more out of the Vorlon. “Thank you for your time, ambassador.” This time when he tried to leave, he actually made it into the hallway. Apparently, it was time to ask the Lady herself.

+++B5+++

It was lunchtime in Brown-12 and the first shift was finishing up while the second shift was getting ready. Which is why Sinclair managed to catch Morganson between duties. 

Nova blinked, baffled. “You want me to what?”

“As the representative of your planet on Babylon 5, you may act as an ambassador for your people,” Sinclair clarified.

“Okay, number one, I’m the ONLY representative of my planet currently on Babylon 5, and number two, who said I wanted to play ambassador?”

“Ambassador Kosh made the implication,” he admitted. When she still looked confused, he added, “The Vorlon ambassador is named Kosh.” He paused, then continued, “Also the Minbari ambassador, Delenn, is currently the only Minbari on B5. It is not unusual, especially as this is only the first year of operation.”

“You want me to be the Gallifreyan ambassador. Why?” she was still confused.

“It’s your choice, but it would give you a legitimate reason for being on the station. You’d have quarters in Green Sector, have the highest level of clearance, access to any part of the station… There are many perks to being an ambassador.” 

Nova shook her head. “Commander, if I had wanted to play ambassador, don’t you think I would’ve done it already in the year since I’ve been here? Ambassadors may have many perks, but they also have many responsibilities and expectations that I just do not have any interest in. I’m on Babylon 5 for only one reason. Once that reason is resolved, then I’m leaving. 

“I’m not interested in opening trade routes, negotiations, treaties, compacts, information, or anything else.” She stared at him seriously throughout her small speech. “I’m perfectly happy down here out of the limelight, and away from all political maneuvering. I’m just not interested.”

“Perhaps you are not interested, but your people…”

Nova gave a large sigh, “Fine. If it will make it easier on you, then you can call me the Gallifreyan Ambassador if you want to. But I’ll be honest, commander, I am not moving to Blue Sector. I’m not opening trade negotiations. No, you can’t have technology or access to my archives. Just...no. Worlds and worlds of no. I’ll be ambassador in name only –– for your paperwork and nothing more.”

“The other ambassadors…”

“Can go stuff themselves for all I care. I told you, I’m on Babylon 5 for only one reason. It has nothing to do with…” she waved her hand vaguely to encompass the process. 

He studied her. “You said you were here for a fixed point. What does that mean?”

Nova opened her mouth to respond, paused, then closed it and sighed. “I want to tell you, but I can’t right now. Later, when the time is right, I can tell you everything...just not right now. Sorry.”

He paused, somehow not surprised by that answer. He regrouped, “You helped Kosh.”

Nova groaned and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “How long is that going to come back to haunt me? Yes, I helped him. I did it because of who he is and because no one else could. I am willing to keep helping on a case-by-case basis, but that has nothing to do with being an ambassador.” 

He looked at her and finally began to see a glimmer of understanding about the woman. “If that changes?”

“I will absolutely let you know. Promise. Until then… You have a station to run and I have soup to serve.” The implied go away was loud and clear. 

Sinclair gave a small bow of his head, “Thank you for your time, ambassador.” Her snort of derision heralded his exit.

+++B5+++

The reception to welcome the newest ambassador to Babylon 5 went rather unlike any before it. The Gallifreyan ambassador walked in, looked around, and stated in a loud clear voice, “Let me save us all a lot of time. Whatever you’re thinking, the answer’s ‘no’. There, we’re introduced.” Then she turned and walked away. It had taken less than two minutes.

The rest of the ambassadors began to discuss amongst themselves. Some were intrigued, some didn’t care, and some were angry.

“How dare she?!”

“Why is she the ambassador?”

“Have her people no better representative?”

“Does she have no respect?”

“Why was she dressed as a human?”

“Interesting,” said Delenn.

“I thought she was a new people, but she looked Centauri,” said Londo.

“Or human,” said G’Kar.

“Honestly, I’m amazed she came at all,” Garibaldi muttered.

Sinclair nodded, “Agreed.”

Chapter Text

Babylon 5: Season 1 begins in March 2258  

March 2258

“Lady! Lady!” Danny’s panic came through loud and clear, grabbing Nova’s attention immediately, jerking her head up and letting her eyes zero in on him, “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a Soul Hunter on Babylon 5!” he said ‘Soul Hunter’ with extra emphasis. Based on the reactions of those around her, it meant more to them than to her…and they were frightened. Many spoke over each other in their panic.

“Soul Hunter?”

“Soul Hunter, here?”

“Child, are you sure?” one of her Abbai regulars asked with obvious fear.

Danny nodded furiously. “I heard the Minbari lady say it! She saw the Soul Hunter with her own eyes in the MedLab! She even tried to kill it, but the doctor stopped her.” The way he said the last was tinged with astonishment as if he couldn’t believe that anyone would stop another from killing a Soul Hunter.

“What would a Soul Hunter be doing on Babylon 5?” asked a quiet grandmother.

Brown-12 almost froze in its contemplation of that. Many looked at Nova with a quiet significance. Several faces hardened in resolve. Nova noticed that the ones who were more prone to violence had an air of understanding and determination. Fearing that one of them would do something rash, she tried to redirect the conversation.

“What or who is a Soul Hunter?” Nova asked.

The group blinked at her, amazed that she didn’t know this basic thing they all dreaded. Harn was the one to answer her, “A Soul Hunter believes that when one dies, their existence ends as there is no afterlife. Thus, they capture the soul at the moment of death to prevent that person’s knowledge and abilities from disappearing.”

Another chimed in, “I heard they can sense when death is near and go hunting.”

Nova frowned. “But people die every day, every minute. They can’t possibly be everywhere at once.”

“They only catch the souls of great leaders,” the same grandmother added, “poets, scholars…healers.” Several spines stiffened. More significant looks in Nova’s direction. “Only the best of the best souls do they prevent from joining the ancestors.”

Nova blinked. So, it was about a difference in beliefs? Afterlife versus no afterlife? Just that these Soul Hunters claimed to have figured out how to capture a soul. Which did make sense if they truly believed that there was no afterlife. To preserve the greatest among themselves, they saved what would otherwise be lost. It did make sense.

“We’ll need to protect the Lady,” Harn said grimly.

“What? Me? Why me?” Nova was baffled. The Doctor was the significant one, not her!

A couple gave huffing laughs, a few rolled their eyes. They knew their lady well. “Everyone be on the lookout for strangers, particularly those with odd equipment.” Nods. “Don’t let any unknowns get past you.” Murmurs of consent.

While she didn’t believe that a soul could be captured, it was obvious they believed and were taking measures to ensure her safety. Nova was caught between exasperation and gratitude. “Don’t forget to watch out for each other,” she instructed. “There’s no guarantee that this Hunter is after me. There’s lots of important people on B5.”

A couple of snorts of disagreement made her heart warm that little bit more.

“We won’t let ‘im get you, Lady!” another verbally opposed.

There was a loud cheer to concur.

+++B5+++

“Lady! Lady!” Nova turned at the cry. She was beginning to think this was a theme with Danny. “I saw him, Lady! I saw the Soul Hunter!”

That got her attention. “Are you sure?”

Danny nodded vigorously. “He’s in Brown-21 and he’s got the Minbari lady all tied up and tubes and things all over! He’s stealing her soul! I SAW him!”

“What?” Nova was already in motion before he finished speaking. She grabbed her now-characteristic blue cloth sack of supplies and half-ran for the lift. No, she didn’t believe that a soul could be captured or contained, but someone ‘all tied up with tubes and things’ could NOT be good. And with everyone so afraid of this Soul Hunter, they wouldn’t move to stop him.

“Where are you going, Lady? You can’t go! He’ll get YOU!” Danny wailed, running after her.

Nova looked at the boy, touched and annoyed at his concern for her instead of for the potential murder victim. “Danny, go find a security guard and tell them. Then find the others and stay in Grey-17 until I get back.” If the ‘Minbari lady’ -also known as the Minbari ambassador- was the one captured, then the commander and security were already looking for her. Any member of security had a communication link and could inform the rest.

“But LADY—” he screamed.

“Do as I tell you,” she instructed sternly. “Now, Danny. Go!”

It was obvious he was doing so under protest and great objection, but he still obeyed. Running at his fullest speed down the corridor, intent on getting to the first security officer he saw as fast as possible. Then he could go back and help the Lady!

+++B5+++

Brown-21 was even more dusty and dirty than Brown-12 had been before she’d appropriated the level. More pipes and crates than Grey-17 too. It was probably only used for maintenance. The only pathways she saw looked as if they were designed for strictly that.

Nova took a couple of seconds, closing her eyes to heighten her senses. Particularly her hearing. She listened, hoping to catch even a quiet swish of cloth or some other minute sound that would tell her a direction. A low hum, a bare whispering murmur.

Nova took off left, doing her best to find a balance between speed and noise. As she got closer, Nova heard a lower male bass speaking, though she wasn’t close enough to hear precise words. However, she knew that tone.

“…the transference,” it was said with a kind of greedy reassurance that made a chill go down her spine. “Close now. Enough for a glimpse into your soul.”

Finally, Nova was near enough that she had to slow to a ducking crawl, but only a few more moments until she could see the setup of the space. A Minbari woman was lying prone, tied to a floor grate. Some sort of apparatus held her ankles as well, tubes of red liquid going to a large single-neck round-bottom flask. Considering the setup, either the flask was vacuum-sealed, drawing the liquid inside itself, or the tubes were coming from a pressurized source. Nova hoped it was the first, since disconnecting a catheter was much easier than clotting an arterial line.

Either way however, the Minbari was dying from exsanguination right before her eyes. She needed to move, there wasn’t much time. But where was the Soul Hunter?

A figure, clad in brownish-red leather with a wool undercoat was peering intently at a sphere sitting inside a weird mechanism. To her eyes, it looked like a cross between an old-fashioned Terran generator and an electric can opener.

“You have planned such a thing?” The Soul Hunter was stunned, though Nova couldn’t tell from what. “You would DO such a thing?”

The woman was barely moving anymore. Nova had to move…NOW!

Nova darted forward from the right and caught the Hunter in the side of the head with the hand that held something heavy. The Soul Hunter cried out in pain and went down.

Nova pointed her sonic at the mechanical whosie-whatsit and thought Off! But when she activated it, there was a brief spark and it didn’t chirp. “Stardust!” she hissed to herself, “Next time, don’t hit the bad guy with the sonic!”

“How dare you?” the Soul Hunter cried.

Nova squeaked, then yelled in pain as he returned her gesture. She collapsed half on top of the Minbari, who gave a low groan but otherwise showed no signs of consciousness. As she was trying to bring her thoughts back to a reasonable understanding, she felt huge hands on her shoulders, shoving her to the right.

“You will not stop me,” the Hunter grimly intoned.

“Delenn!” another male called out.

“No. Not again!” the Hunter denied, then moved out of Nova’s now limited perception. “Not again!”

Oh good, the bad guy was occupied. Someone was coming to the rescue! Nova shook her head once in an attempt to clear her vision, then instantly regretted it. She moaned in pain but kept her hands moving. Fumbling though they were, they were better than just sitting there while someone died!

She felt an ankle. Felt the metal thingie holding it—what were those thingies called again? She knew that she knew the word… “Come on, come on,” she whispered to her screwdriver. “Help me out.” A buzz. A chirp. Then the cuff—that was the word!—clicked open. “One more time please,” she pleaded. Buzz. Buzz. Chirp. Click. “Yes! Thanks!”

Her vision was firming as well. At least there were now only two feet in front of her instead of four. Yay! Improvement! She fiddled with the settings, trying to remember what setting was for blood coagulation, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember. Not yay…

Nova decided that if she couldn’t remember her fancy sonic setting, she’d just go old school. So there! A quick clip, pull, and press; to remove the catheter and then put pressure on the wound site. Her other hand went to the bottom of her shirt, pulled it up to her teeth, and yanked. A loud tear and she had a strip of cloth. Another few yanks and she had four strips! Two as compresses and two as ties. That should do. Yay! Again!

“No! Leave us alone!” The would-be murderer was far outside of her line of sight, but she could still hear the insane ramblings. “Why do you fight for her? Don’t you understand? She is Satai! I have seen her soul! They’re using you!”

A thud to her left drew her attention and she saw Commander Sinclair by a fabric bag, laying as if he’d been thrown into his position. He lifted his head, seemed to analyze the surrounding situation(s?) quickly, and then looked back towards the direction in which he’d been flung. Bad guy coming their way then.

“No! What are you doing? You…” the Soul Hunter muttered.

Nova turned to look at him, to see if she was the one he was focused on, and saw seven glowing red spheres hovering around the bad guy. Then an eighth, just coming from the bag that apparently Sinclair had opened.

“You don’t know what you’re doing. My children!” he almost sounded pleading. “I never…never meant any harm…”

“Any harm?” she asked. Nova knew her voice couldn’t be as firm and uncompromising as she intended, but at least she didn’t fall over. She counted that as a win. “Any harm? You’re trying to murder her! How is that not meaning any harm?”

“I was saving her soul!”

As if on cue, the machine powered up fully and a red beam of light shot out, centering itself on the Minbari’s chest.

Nova didn’t think, didn’t consider, only reacted. She darted to the right, putting herself between the beam and the unconscious woman.

“No!” the Soul Hunter yelled. “Let me save her!”

She halfway thought she heard him move forward as if to stop her or something, but Nova herself had a different problem. It was as if she suddenly had no control over her body, frozen in place on her side. She cried out, screaming in agony. It felt as if a knife were trying to carve out her main heart! A golden glow began to eke slowly out of her skin, but she couldn’t move to get away. It just carved a little deeper with every microsecond.

Suddenly the knife was gone and she crumpled fully down, panting.

Long seconds must have passed by her unnoticed because the next she knew there were hands on her shoulders, but these were smaller and much more gentle than the bad guy’s had been. “Are you alright?” Oh, that was Sinclair. Good guy. Rescued the damsels.

“You should have shiny armor,” Nova muttered without opening her eyes.

Sinclair gave a short reluctant laugh, “I left it in my closet.”

“Bad guy gone?”

“Yes, he’s gone.”

“Minbari lady?”

“I think you got to Delenn in time.”

“Yay.”

“I’ve called for medical. You’ll both b…” his voice trailed off. Or perhaps she was the one that trailed off since the world went dark at the same time.

+++B5+++

“How is Delenn?” Sinclair asked.

“Better,” Dr. Steven Franklin answered easily. “She has a strong constitution. Amazingly strong, really. Losing that much blood would’ve killed most. Explains why they fought so well during the war. They just kept going no matter how great the injury or loss of blood.” He paused and turned. “Any more and she would have died. The other saved her life.”

“And how is Nova?”

Dr. Franklin gave a baffled shrug. “I have no idea. She’s not human, I can tell you that definitively. She is not any species in the database. In fact, the computer keeps saying there’s an error, but I’ve checked it three times. No mistake with the machine or the blood draw.

“I CAN tell you that she has golden blood,” he offered as if a consolation prize.

“Golden blood? What does that mean?”

“It means she has no blood type and no Rh antigens, or at least none that the computer can recognize. This does happen in humans, but it's very rare. In the last 250 years, since its discovery, there’s been only 157 cases of golden blood, total.” He shook his head. “If she were human, I’d suggest she have a regular blood draw to have on ice in case she needs a transfusion because there’s nothing here that I can give her.” He paused, considered. “I’ll recommend that anyway.”

“Will she be alright?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Jeff. I just don’t know. She has two hearts like a Centauri, but none of their other characteristics. Her EKG is within human and Centauri normal parameters, but her blood oxygen is low. Her EEG is off the charts. Her temperature is so low that I’d think she was dead yet is exhibiting none of the symptoms of hypothermia. Honestly, I’m afraid to touch her because I can’t tell what her system would do with anything I could give her.”

Sinclair was frowning hard by the end of the xenobiologist’s recitation. Then he moved to one of the wall terminals. “Request?” the computer asked.

“Call for Boe Harker. Encoded Gold-2.”

“Processing… connected.”

The face was just as it had been the last time Sinclair had seen him several months prior. “What’s wrong?” Harker asked shortly.

“Nova’s unconscious.”

Harker’s face darkened considerably. “Tell me everything.”

Sinclair did a quick rundown of events as he knew them. Then he called over Franklin to go over Morganson’s test results. Throughout, Harker said nothing. When they were both done with their recitations, Harker sat back slightly, thinking. “Blood ox should be around 155-170. Average heart rate is about the same. Temp should be somewhere between 14 and 17 degrees Celsius. High brain wave activity is par for the course. If the EEG falls into human levels, then you worry.”

The doctor was taking notes. “Then she has a low blood oxygen level.” He snapped his fingers and an attendant hurried to affix an oxygen mask to the patient.

Harker nodded approval. “Were you able to do an in-depth resonance scan?”

“Yes. No obvious injuries or foreign bodies. There are multiples of structures in her internal anatomy—the least of which is a couple extra ribs. Her nervous system…I have no words for it, and I have no way to know if they are unusual for her species.”

“Ask her to come in when she’s healthy for a baseline scan. She won’t mind if you swear to doctor-patient confidentiality. She might make you sign a non-disclosure agreement too.” Harker said absently. He tapped his chin. “Biology isn’t my area of expertise by a long shot. I only know the basics for them…” A thought struck him. “Do you have any chocolate you can give her?”

“Chocolate?” Steven asked in disbelief.

“Gallifreyans are highly allergic to aspirin, but chocolate is almost miraculous in its restorative capacity,” Harker explained. “The darker, the better. Take a small bit and put it on her tongue and let it dissolve. See if that works.”

He nodded. “And if it doesn’t?”

“You call me back, and I bring the cavalry.” He winced. “Let’s HOPE we don’t have to call him.” The screen went blank.

Sinclair looked at Franklin. “Do you have chocolate stashed somewhere?”

“No…” he held up a finger as he remembered, “but I know Ivanova does.” He hit his comm. link. Less than an hour later, the xenobiologist blinked in amazement as a single small square of Hershey’s made the Lady of Downbelow begin to stir.

+++B5+++

“Please, enter,” Delenn smiled at her gratefully and gestured. “I am so glad you accepted my offer.” An arrangement of tea for two was set out.

Nova was already shaking her head. It wasn’t that she didn’t like tea, but she didn’t want to impose. Instead, she held out a brown cloth sack, “I just wanted to give you these. They’re all tagged as Minbari, so I thought you should have them.”

Delenn took them reverently, cradling the sack as if it were a small child. She looked up and the honest intense gratitude was obvious. “You have done a great service, not just to myself, but to all Minbari.”

Nova grimaced, uncomfortable with the praise. “I just… wanted you to know…” she hesitated.

Delenn had set the soul bag down gently, then looked up at her in curiosity, “Yes?”

“…I didn’t know if you would want to know…”

The Minbari had been a member of the religious caste for a human lifetime. She understood, at least partially, what the other was preluding to. As a Satai, Delenn was more than familiar with the reluctance to convey such information. “Please. Let us have tea and you may tell me. I have learned that tea softens uncomfortable information.”

Nova gave a small snort of reluctant laughter and obediently sat across from the woman. When the tea was poured and a dutiful sip had been taken, she tried again. “The orbs,” she gestured with her chin, “they… they’re not souls.”

Delenn froze momentarily, set her cup down, and solemnly regarded her. “Explain.”

Nova sighed, “I know his beliefs and yours were diametrically opposed. He thought he was saving people because he didn’t believe there was any hereafter. You thought he was stealing people so that they couldn’t join the rest of your people waiting to be reborn.” She paused. “Is that all correct?”

“In essence, yes.”

Nova nodded. “Well, once I was back on my feet, I went back and found that machine of his.” Delenn sucked in a sharp breath. Nova forestalled her with a finger. “It’s destroyed now, but I needed to know what it had been designed to do. Because what it did to me shouldn’t have been possible.”

Delenn picked up her cup. “And what did you find?”

“That, once charged, it copies and stores a person’s mental pathways. Basically, it’s a fancy recording system. The downside to using it is that it uses the person’s own energy to form the template, thus, in essence, killing the individual in the process.” Nova peered at her intently, trying to convey her seriousness. “But it’s a copy. In human terminology, it’s a first-generation transcendence, or mind uploading, if you understand those comparisons. A really bad version, since those aren’t supposed to destroy the original. Though the original architect could have been trying to ensure that the copy never deviated from the original, seeing it as a desired feature instead of a flaw. Or maybe it was only ever supposed to be used afterward, I don’t know for sure.

“I DO know that while those are copies of Minbari minds, they aren’t their souls,” Nova finally picked up her tea again, finished with her explanation.

The religious Satai pondered the information for long quiet minutes before she finally replied. When she did, it was without rancor or recrimination. Instead only simple statements. “Any being is the accumulation of their life experiences, beliefs, and decisions, all of which are etched into mental pathways and stored in memory. Their mind… is their soul.”

 There really wasn’t anything to say to that, so Nova didn’t try and simply finished her tea. When she got up to leave, Delenn spoke again, “You are not angry with the Soul Hunter.”

It was an observation, not a question, but Nova felt compelled to answer anyway. She turned to look at the priest, wondering how to phrase it so that the woman wouldn’t get angry herself. Finally, she settled for, “I pity him.”

Delenn tilted her head slightly, her face a mask of flat calm. “Why?”

Nova huffed a soft breath. “Two reasons mainly. One, I, as well as his own people, thought him insane. Even as a criminal, it’s against most civilizations to condemn those truly mentally ill. They are locked up and we try to help them, but we don’t kill them. We don’t see their actions as their choice or their fault.”

“Hmm… and the other?”

Nova’s shoulders slumped as if by an unseen weight. “Insane or not, based on what he believed, he thought he was doing the right thing. Even when all around him people told him otherwise, he carried right on doing what he thought was just and good to save others. And he kept doing it even to his own death.

“He did what he thought was right, despite everyone telling him it was foolish, it didn’t dissuade him. That kind of mental fortitude and determination is admirable. Some of the best leaders, both military and civilian, have had that trait. George Washington and Jean d’Arc immediately jump to mind.”

Delenn blinked, not having seen it this way. She pondered what she knew and understood about human history as well as how it might pertain to the current situation...and something occurred to her. “Yet…” she paused to make sure she had the other’s attention, “...a Soul Hunter is not a soldier. There may be an inherent difference between a soldier and a hunter.” 

Nova contemplated that for a couple seconds. Then she gave a tired sigh, a sad shrug. “You may have a point. I don’t know enough to say. Guess I’d have to talk to a soldier and get their opinion.”  She didn’t wait for a response – she either didn’t expect one or she didn’t want one – she continued, “I pity him, because then I can forgive him… Then, maybe, I can forgive myself…”

Delenn gave the Gallifreyan a bow of respect and saw her out of her quarters. But after Nova left, the Minbari Religious Satai couldn’t help but contemplate what such words said about her character. To bring oneself to empathize with another was easy. To empathize with an enemy was much harder, sometimes impossible, or took many years. Even as the Gallifreyan claimed it was with selfish intent, to do so in only a couple of days was remarkable.

A small part of the Minbari wondered what might be said if she described these events to one of the warrior caste. Perhaps she would ask the next one that came to Babylon 5.

Chapter Text

May 2258 – “Deathwalker”

Talia’s head jerked as a blast of profound anger washed over her. She watched as a relatively nondescript woman stomped  over to where Kosh and Abbut were using her services. Though as far as she could tell, neither male had said anything intelligible that needed a telepath. Calling them ‘negotiations’ was the best joke Kosh had ever told.

The approaching woman didn’t seem to care that they were in the middle of something. Even if she knew their entire conversation had been idioms or complete non-sequitur statements, Talia didn’t think it would slow her down in the slightest. The woman echoed with tightly controlled rage. Talia clutched the side of her head as the emotion overwhelmed her shields.

“Jha’Dur. Deathwalker.” The words were growled, but not at the group. No, she was focused entirely on Kosh!

“We take no interest in the affairs of others,” Kosh said as if the words were a question.

Talia registered that the woman was speaking of the Dilgar war criminal that had recently come to the station. Rumors were going around Babylon 5 with a speed only reached since the Soul Hunter had come aboard. There had been a full assembly held, where the majority had voted not to try the general. A whole host of League ships were there to extradite Deathwalker. All of them wanted to hold a kangaroo court for the criminal, but none could agree on what race would do the deed. However, there were also rumors of deals with Narns and Earth Force to provide amnesty in trade for something the Dilgar scientist had discovered worth more than a thousand planets combined. She’d heard some sort of compromise had been reached where the woman would be put on trial anyway as well as her discovery being distributed amongst the races.

“You better damn well ‘take an interest’,” the woman poked a finger in the center of the Vorlon’s encounter suit. She said ‘take an interest’ full of growled snark. She flung out a hand, pointing in a seemingly random direction. “That concoction is an abomination and an affront to everything I safeguard!”

The Vorlon said nothing.

“By the light of Kasterborous! Do you have NO understanding of what those CHILDREN will DO with it?” she half-yelled. “It’s your JOB to stop them from such STUPIDITY!”

Still, the ambassador did not reply.

“FINE,” she glared, biting out each word. “I’ll rephrase: You. OWE. Me.”

The encounter suit’s ‘head’ bowed in acknowledgment. A pause. Then a slight shift in the shoulders and his entire suit inclined forward a few inches.

“Good,” she leaned back though her blue-purple eyes still spit fire, “SO glad we agree.” Without another word, the woman stomped away.

After a short pause, their group got back to the so-called negotiations.

Hours later, when Talia learned that a Vorlon ship had destroyed the cruiser with Jha’Dur inside, she couldn’t help but remember the earlier encounter. Especially when she heard that Kosh had not mentioned the woman at all, instead only commenting, “You are not ready for immortality.”

10.01.2021

June 2258 – “Believers”

Nova blinked in confusion when she heard the alarm, then surprise as she realized it was from the transmitter that she’d given the doctor almost 18 months previous. “Jack, Charlie, I’ve got to go to MedLab in Green Sector. Would you like to come with me or stay here?” The now twelve-year-old’s head popped upright with a big ‘duh’ expression, while the sixteen-year-old rolled her eyes. Nova laughed. “Alright then, let’s go.”

“You sure it’s safe?” Charlie asked. Jack said nothing but obviously agreed with the sentiment.

“Should be,” she reassured with a gentle smile. Ever since the Soul Hunter incident, her littles, as well as most of her Downbelow regulars, had been paranoid about her safety.

“What do ya’ think it is?”

“We’ll find out together.” That response was not appreciated, but it was the best she could do. The transmitter only told her that someone hit it, nothing more. It didn’t even have a tracker, so their current destination was only an assumption.

When they reached the clinic, Jack stayed by the entrance to play guard while Charlie stayed close. Their entrance was noticed and Dr. Steven Franklin gestured her forward. He was beside an ill boy about Charlie’s age, and presumably the parents. “Dr. Franklin, I got your call.”

“Yes, thank you so much for coming. This is Shon,” he gestured to the boy, then to the mother and father respectively, “and his parents M’Ola and Tharg.” He looked to the non-humans and gestured to Nova, “May I introduce Nova Morganson, the Lady of Downbelow.” Nova’s eyebrows rose at the title but didn’t dispute it. At this point, why bother?

The woman held her clasped hands to her chest while the male showed a flat affect. M’Ola said, “We are grateful you came so quickly. Dr. Franklin has spoken of your extensive knowledge, that you may have a way to save our son.”

Nova’s eyebrows creased. What had Franklin been telling these people? “I can’t perform miracles, but I’ll do what I can.” She focused on the doctor. “What’s wrong with Shon?”

In just a few short sentences, the xenobiologist outlined the problem. The three were Onteen and had a series of internal air bladders. One of Shon’s bladders had become blocked, possibly as a result of infection or injury.

Nova frowned as she studied the internal scan. It looked like a simple fix to her. She quirked a brow, “Is your equipment broken?”

Franklin winced, “Not at all.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Being unable to repair broken medical supplies, or being unable to repair them before the boy died, was about the only reason she could think that they would call her  when, as far as she knew, the equipment and techniques already existed to save the child. It should be a relatively easy outpatient procedure with only a 2% fatality rate…and 1.75% of it was due to the possible complications of the anesthetic!

The doctor sighed. “I was hoping you had an alternative to surgery.”

Nova blinked, “Why?” She peered back at the images. “Does he have other pre-existing conditions that prevent surgery or increase his risk?”

“No…”

M’Ola came forward again, her hands to her chest as before. “We are the Children of Time and if our skin is punctured, our spirit will leave our bodies.”

Nova felt herself still at the information. So…this had nothing to do with medicine or ability. This was religion and belief. She mentally glared daggers at Franklin for pulling her into this, though she understood why he had done so. Nova’s eyes drifted to where the boy was and saw that he and Charlie were chatting quietly together, both smiling as if they had known each other for years. Simple, as children were wont to do.

Long moments passed as she thought of their options. She did have a relatively non-invasive method that might work, but it would still puncture the skin. The skin of all three of them actually since she would have to draw blood from both parents as well as the child. “Define puncture.”

M’Ola had little hope this woman had a solution but was willing to try for her son. “If our bodies are cut open, then our soul will rejoin the Egg.”

“What about little scratches?”

“What are you thinking?” Franklin asked.

“If it was an infection that caused the blockage, then chances are his parents got it too. But their bodies were able to fight it off without incident. Theoretically, with a blood draw from all of them, we could figure out which it was, isolate the antigens the parents produced, then give them to the kid.”

“IF it was due to an infection…”

“Yeah, and even if it was, this is highly theoretical and at best would have a 20-30% chance of success.” She focused back on the parents, particularly the mother who seemed to be the speaker for the pair, “At least it would be four needle sticks, 2 each for you for the pint of blood needed, and then 2 for Shon to both take the blood and then give him the antigens. So…I guess it comes down to if a pinprick counts as a puncture?”

The doctor had caught on to what she was implying. “What does your beliefs say about normal injuries - scratches, broken bones, cuts, scrapes, nosebleeds? Those would all do far more damage than what Lady Nova is offering.” If it was only the amount of damage that they objected to, then this was a possible solution, even if it wasn’t a guarantee. No one could go throughout their entire life without any injuries, it was impossible.

However, just as Franklin was getting hope that the parents would be persuaded, the mother shook her head. “You would be removing parts of his soul with his blood, and the rest would follow.”

Nova sighed, “Then there’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry.” She moved to leave.

“What?” Franklin hissed, stunned that she would just give up.

The Lady of Downbelow turned, looking at him with sad, sad eyes. “This has nothing to do with ability, techniques that haven’t been discovered, broken equipment, or a lack of time. This is about belief and faith. It’s their faith, their choice.” She looked at Shon and gave a small gentle sad smile. “Do you believe that your soul will go if you bleed?” The boy nodded. Nova looked back at Franklin, “He’s old enough to choose for himself, and his parents agree.

“There’s nothing we can do, because it’s not our decision.”

“He’s only a child!”

Nova gave a great heaving heavy sigh that she felt from her head to her toes. This was one part of her responsibilities that she didn’t enjoy at all. She understood the principle, but having it in her face was rather different. However, this was beyond her. “This isn’t my area… Go ask the Vorlon.”

“How can that be all you have to say?!”

She stopped for long moments, when she finally looked back for the last time, they could all see the tears in her eyes. “Life has a beginning, a middle…and an end. Everything dies. The best any of us can do is make the most of the time we have.”

Much later, Nova learned that Dr. Steven Franklin had gone against the wishes of both parents, child, and his superior, and done the procedure anyway. He had saved the boy’s life…but afterward his parents had killed their child, claiming that it was just a demon-inhabited shell that needed to be put out of its misery. She was unsurprised on all counts… and she cried herself to sleep.

Nova was also unsurprised when she heard that Franklin had set up a small free medclinic on the other side of Downbelow from her own.

10.01.2021

August 3, 2258 – “Signs and Portents”

The man looked around steadily, the controlled chaos of Brown-12 working around him but not seeming to touch him. An odd little smile that disturbed anyone who understood the idea behind it. “I’m here to see the Lady of Downbelow.”

Her head tilted slightly in confusion, but still didn’t look at him. Her hands were busy holding the segments together, waiting for adhesion to cement the work-around. “You found her,” a brief glance at him before she went back to holding wires, “but I don’t know what I could possibly do for you. You’re certainly not my usual clientele.”

“Actually, Lady, I’m here for you. What do you want?” he smiled that odd smile.

Nova blinked, hands pausing momentarily before resuming their tinkering. “Pardon?”

The smile didn’t falter. “What do you want?”

Her hands stopped completely, setting them in her lap as she turned to give him her full attention. Her blue-purple eyes stared at him, then seemed to stare into  him for long seconds. She blinked and the feeling vanished. She thought of a hundred things she wanted to say, but all of them were shades of the same. Instead, she redirected, “I think that you’ve been misinformed.”

“Perhaps you can enlighten me then.”

Nova shook her head and her hands went back over her head to continue working on the transformer. “Go tell your bosses that I’m a Gallifreyan who takes her duties VERY seriously. If they interfere with my responsibilities…then I’ll be forced to return the favor.” She tilted her head down to look him squarely in the eye. “Understood?”

“Lady, I can’t leave until you answer my question.”

She smirked, “I want you to tell your bosses my message. Verbatim. I would very much like that.”

He was obviously confused, but he gave a small bow, “As you wish, Lady,” and walked away.

“He was really  scary,” little Charlie observed as she came out of hiding behind a crate.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about him, little one,” Nova grinned reassuringly and kissed the girl’s forehead. “I highly doubt he’ll be back.”

09.27.2021

Chapter Text

August 26, 2258

Nova rubbed the back of her neck as, once again, she felt the oncoming paradox move just that little bit closer. It wasn’t that it was a paradox itself—she was here to ensure that a fixed point happened according to plan—it was that it was a paradox she wasn’t expecting.

In her years as the Doctor’s ward/apprentice, she’d become quite adept at a multitude of TimeLord-specific skills, such as moving between seconds, tasting the years, and kinesthetic telepathy to name a few. Whereas many such Gallifreyan Academy skills he would wave away as either not as important as his own instructors said or as entirely useless, mastering paradoxes even the Doctor agreed was essential. There were many nuances to mastering paradoxes, including fixed points.

The paradox Nova currently felt was not a fixed point…or perhaps it was, but it wasn’t a large one. It was approaching fast though, whatever it was. The closer it got, the more she could determine, and it was making her nervous. She couldn’t feel the center of this paradox, which made her extremely anxious. Either this coming paradox was larger than it seemed, or SHE was its axis. Not good.

She was currently trying to focus herself with Zen gardening to hopefully feel more in-depth what was coming when she felt the universe focus on a single point. Fixed! The possible fixed point had become an actual fixed point in the space of a breath. Whatever had been approaching was Here. Now!

All the breath left her as her mind’s eye watched.

The universe tightened…

.

.

.

…tightened…

.

.

.

…tightened…

.

.

.

.

.

Release!

“Stardust!” she exclaimed under her breath. “That was a close one…”

It was only after she had said the words that she realized it wasn’t finished unraveling…

+++B5+++

September 1, 2258

It had been six days since she had felt the fixed point rupture and she had been feeling it spin outward like the trailing end of a comet as it hurdled straight AT her. It didn’t seem to have the end to its tail that she could see (yet), but the closer it got the more it loomed and the more that it was ALL she could sense. She couldn’t focus to see details—details which were essential to dealing with it—because it was right in her face…and getting closer with every passing nanosecond.

She was currently trying (again) to do some Zen gardening in an effort to calm her anxiety, feel more of what was to come and her possible part in it. Jamie and Charlie were in the hydroponics garden with her doing the routine maintenance needed in the plant beds while Nova was finishing up in the new bed.

She’d managed to procure a rather large amount of live Treel at breeding age from a backdoor black-market Centauri deal, but they didn’t have a bed set up for fauna. The past two days held Nova busy making the necessary adjustments for an aquaponics area.

(According to all her research, Treel was almost-but-not-quite a true Universal Superfood—able to be easily digested by most species, providing necessary nutrients she’d up to this point been using powdered supplements to supply.

Treel also could feed off kolni, another almost-true Universal Superfood. The Treel bred up to six times in a Terran year and kolni could be manipulated to bud every three weeks with the right system. With the amounts of Treel she had purchased and the kolni beds she already had set up, they should have an excellent source of self-sustaining renewable nutrients for 99% of the Downbelow species within a month.)

((Harn had commented that Grey-17 was starting to remind him of some of the pictures he had seen of the swamps of Narn Prime before the Centauri had enslaved it. She didn’t know how to feel. Saddened at making him remember something which obviously distressed him; saddened at what had occurred to so many Narn. Or perhaps flattered at what had been sincerely meant as a compliment. She decided to thank him profusely, but her hearts hurt for his clear heartbreak.))

Nova gave a small gasp, a hand going to her breast as between one breath and the next the fixed point clicked  into place. Instead of revealing its center to observe and make judgements, she suddenly found herself in the calm center. The fixed point raging around her like a wolf waiting in the shadows.

“Lady?” a quiet, calm voice interrupted. Startling her since it was unknown.

Her head jerked and her body came up and back, holding the sonic defensively even before her mind fully finished processing that there were intruders in their personal space of Grey-17.

Three Minbari were watching her, several steps beyond her current reach, one of each caste: warrior, religious, and worker. It was a male of religious caste that had spoken, identified by his smooth headbone and cream-colored robe, his hands held out to show he held no weapons. “Lady, we offer no hostility. We are here to help.”

“How did you get here?” she asked harshly. The safeguards around Grey-17 were intricate; only the Doctor himself should have been able to get through them unless one already knew exactly  how to go. Even Captain Jack Harkness shouldn’t be able to find them unless he already knew they were there!

“We—”

He was cut off by a loud, “LADY!”   It was a scream that had her moving  before it fully registered. This was not a cry just to catch attention, this was a sound of true pain and panic…and it was one of her littles that had made it. “Jackie,” she breathed.

The Minbari were dismissed as unimportant in less time than it took her to move, going in and around their bodies. She was beside the 15-year-old girl, her sonic already scanning and running diagnostics, in less than six heartbeats.

Jack was covered in blood and bruises. “I tried to stop them, Lady. I swear I tried.”

“Shhh, I know you did,” Nova soothed. Her sonic was telling her that Jack had three cracked ribs, another two broken, in danger of a punctured lung, along with a broken left ulna and radius, and three fractured metacarpals of her right hand. Several facial lacerations and cracked orbital. Jack had fought and fought hard. Probably the only reason she had made it back at all was that her legs were injured, but not broken. Though Jack possibly had some internal bleeding, given how battered she was and then going such a long distance to get help. “You’re safe now. Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

She helped the girl get back to her feet and through, into the safety that Grey-17 offered, blinking only momentarily at the Minbari in her way before gesturing them off.

“No, Lady…they took  them…” Jack breathed, a small amount of blood showing from the corner of her mouth the longer she spoke.

“What? Who took what?” Nova was only halfway paying attention to Jackie’s words, already busy getting several patches and things ready to treat her.

“Danny and Kari. They took Danny and Kari.”

Nova’s hands slowed, then stopped completely as the words registered. Her head came up and she knew her face must be terrible, because the girl flinched at the sight of it. “Say that again,” her voice darkly foreboding.

“…They took Kari and Danny, Lady,” Jack repeated.

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where were you?”

“We were heading to docking bay 9. Stopped in the Zocalo. Kari wanted to get you a present. As thanks for everything. Crowded. We got separated. Danny yelled and Kari screamed. I…saw them drag them away. Followed. Two jumped me. A human and a traxi. I tried! Lady, I swear I tried…!”

“I know you did, Jackie. I know. Here,” Nova pressed the air injector of nanos to Jack’s neck, then an injector of analgesics, “that should make you feel better and be all up and about in no time.” She smiled with what she hoped was reassurance, but her mind was already racing. “You get some rest. It’ll be better when you wake.” Given what she had injected her with, Nova wasn’t surprised when Jack’s eyes slid shut almost immediately and her breathing deepened.

“Lady?” Charlie asked hesitantly.

“Jack’ll be fine. Jamie, come over here please.”

Nova looked over at the Minbari. “You’re here to help?”

“Yes, Lady,” the worker caste member gave a small bow, “in whatever way you need.”

“Good,” Nova’s mind was already forming and discarding strategies using her new resources. Finally, she settled into a plan of action and began to issue orders. “Jamie, you and Charlie and Jack will stay here in Grey-17. Protocol Sigma-9, got it?”

Jamie paled a little—though perhaps he was already that shade and it was only now she noticed—but he nodded. Charlie too, though hers was a bit more determined. “Sigma-9, yes Lady.”

Nova pointed to the religious caste, “He’s going to stay here and help out. You tell him about Sigma-9. The three of you can take care of Jack while she’s sick.” Nova looked at the priest, knew that Minbari religious caste were also taught to fight and defend. Her voice lowered so that the children wouldn’t hear, “There are a total of 9 people who should be able to enter this area. Seven of them are on this station: the 5 children, myself, and a Narn named Harn. I have no idea how you got around my safeguards, but right now I don’t care. You protect my littles or I will take it out of your skin.” Her tone brooked dark promise.

To his credit, the monk didn’t flinch. He gave another small bow. “With my life, Lady.”

Next, she turned to the worker, “Your first job is to go to the Minbari ambassador and tell her everything. Tell her I’m invoking my full diplomatic status. Then go to Sinclair and tell him the same thing. Then get back here and help with the children.”

The worker gave an identical bow, “Understood, Lady.” With no other needed dismissal, she left Grey-17 for her assigned task at a fast walk.

Nova reached for her bright azure cloth sack and dug through. She handed the psychic paper to Jamie. “How long are you to wait?” she questioned the boy.

James clutched the thin wallet in one hand and Charlie with the other. Despite his obvious fear, he dutifully recited, “Wait 12 hours. If you don’t come back, think a message that you need help. If you’re not back in 24 hours, think ‘Help Theta’ as loud as I can until a man with crazy hair and weird clothes comes.”

“Good boy,” she praised. Her sonic screwdriver was tucked into a pocket, and she had retrieved the plasma gun and holster. She swiftly armed herself and then knelt before them, took their hands, and looked each in the eyes. “I know you’re scared. Being brave doesn’t mean that you aren’t scared. Being brave means that you’re scared, but you do what’s right anyway. Stay here and I’ll come back as soon as I can.” She kissed each child’s forehead. “Look after the Minbari too, they don’t know how anything works in here. Okay?”

“Okay, Lady,” they echoed. Both were scared, but bad things had happened before. This time it would be different! Because this time they had the Lady. The Lady would take care of everything! The Lady would save the others and come back and it would all be fine again. Until then, they would be brave. The Lady needed them to be brave. So they would be brave.

Nova turned and felt as an implacable mask slid into place. She couldn’t do what she needed to do if her emotions were high. She needed to be hard and logical. She looked at the warrior Minbari, and said coldly, “Let’s put your skills to use.”

Chapter Text

September 1, 2258

1037 hours

Jamie didn’t know what to think about suddenly being in charge. He clutched the thin wallet to his chest as he watched the Lady walk away, the largest Minbari following her. The Minbari who had stayed with them was about the same height as the Lady, with little purple spots on his head. Jamie thought that the clothes the Minbari wore were strange, lots of layers of weird not-shirts. On his waist hung a short metal pipe. “What’s that?”

The Minbari looked down to see where he was pointing. “My denn’bok.”

Charlie’s brows wrinkled. “What’s a denn’bock?”

“Denn’bok,” the Minbari corrected her pronunciation gently. He pulled the pipe from his waist and held it sideways.

Both children’s eyes widened in amazement when the pipe expanded to over five feet long in a blink. “Wow…” Jamie reached forward, fascinated. Before he touched it though, he looked up at the adult to make sure it was okay.

The Minbari nodded his permission, bringing it down slightly to make it easier for the children. “It is a Minbari fighting pike. Similar to a human bo staff.” He noticed the boy’s awed reverence, while the girl held herself back, and nodded his approval. “You are correct to be wary, young one. It is a weapon.”

The girl child’s eyes widened further and she took a step back. “You’re going to hurt us?”

Jamie shook his head, moving to put himself between Charlie and the stranger. “No. Remember? He’s gonna protect us while the Lady rescues Danny and Kari. Okay?”

The girl hesitantly nodded, her eyes staying on the Minbari.

The Minbari priest nodded solemnly and returned the weapon to its previous state. “Indeed. No Minbari would ever harm a child. It will be my honor to watch over you while your…guardian…is away.”

She nodded again more firmly. “I’m Charlie. He’s Jamie, and that’s Jack.” She turned and pointed to the oldest child, unconscious on the couch.

The priest gave a short bow, his hands making a triangle as he introduced himself, “I am Kayal of the Third Fane of Chudomo.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It is the name of my clan.”

“What’s a clan?”

“When one is born, you are part of a blood family. As you grow, you learn more and must eventually decide upon a course for your adult life. On Minbar, there are three possible castes and one must petition to join a clan of the caste they choose. A Minbari clan is the family that one chooses.” Kayal could see the visible concentration the children had, trying to understand. “My clan is the Third Fane of Chudomo, which is part of the religious caste. I learned alongside Lennier, the aide to the Minbari ambassador here. The ambassador is of the Tenth Fane of Elleya, another clan of the religious caste.” He hesitated to give the children more information; they were obviously already having difficulty absorbing the explanation. Telling them that some families were also clans wouldn’t help their comprehension.

Charlie was the first to hesitantly ask, “So Minbari have families and clans.” Kayal nodded. “Do humans?”

Kayal paused. “I do not know.” He wondered why the child wanted to know.

“Oh.”

Jamie looked at the younger and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “It’s okay. Our families threw us away,” Kayal stiffened, “but we’re already a clan. We live together and learn together, and the Lady takes care of us. We’re part of the Lady’s clan now.”

“What’s her clan?” Charlie asked with a sniffle.

As he listened to the pre-teens, Kayal went to put a pillow under the third, propping her head and chest upright. Then he pulled a blanket up to her waist.

Jamie hesitated. “I dunno. Morganson?” They knew the Lady’s name was Nova Morganson.

She shook her head. “No, that’s her family name. What’s her clan name?”

“…I don’t think she has one. She’s never mentioned it if she does.”

“Well, we should come up with one!” Charlie declared. “If we’re all part of the same clan, then we need a clan name.” However, even though they had been living with the Lady for over a year, she never offered information about her past. Just as the children didn’t. It was an unspoken agreement not to pry and respect their privacy.

“Gallifrey?”

“No, that’s her planet.”

“Rassilon?”

“No, that’s a person.”

“Tabri?”

“No, that’s her dad!”

“You come up with one then!”

There was a long silence as each pondered the question. A weak voice quoted into the quiet, “We are all of us stardust.” It was one of the Lady’s first teachings. The pair turned to look at the oldest of their group. Jackie stared back at them. She was weak and in pain. She hadn’t even moved from her position except to open her eyes! But her gaze was steady. “Clan Stardust.”

The three children looked at each other solemnly before all nodded in tandem. “We are Stardust!”

Kayal suddenly feeling an icy chill go down his back and a lead weight settle in his stomach. He swallowed harshly.

What he had just heard…

.

.

It was impossible that they meant…

.

.

.

Impossible that they were…!

.

.

.

.

.

He must tell Satai Delenn of this.

+++++B5+++++

September 1, 2258

1041 hours

A small part of her mind wondered what she looked like that those they passed, people who had known her for over a year, paled at her approach and stepped back. Some even hid. One ran. However, none of that was important. So, while a piece of her considerable brain registered and catalogued the information for later analysis, she had bigger things to focus on right now.

“Your name?” she asked without looking over to the warrior Minbari that was a step behind and to the side of her.

“Mireen, of the Night Walkers clan,” he spoke for the first time. His voice was deeper than most Minbari, towards the lower end of baritone or a high bass. His clothing was standard for the warrior caste: black with gray accents, chest piece armor, and protective layers that didn’t inhibit his movement one iota. She always found it a bit funny that Minbari pretended they didn’t lie when so much of their attitude, culture, and even their clothing was designed to be misleading or hidden.

She noted that he didn’t do the standard hand-triangle bow of introduction. “Do the different Minbari castes have different customs?” She knew that all three castes had their own language, expectation of clothing, and training. All Minbari knew all the other castes, at least in theory, but were still separate. The human saying of ‘separate but equal’ came to mind when she thought of Minbar, and was probably as successful for the Minbari as it was for the Terrans.

“Yes.”

If he didn’t want to talk, that was fine. Or perhaps Minbari warriors were trained that way. She knew enough of their culture to get by; not the intricate details. And really, right now, she was only interested in his skills. “Your rank?”

“I am second to my Alyt.”

Nova did glance over at him at that. Alyt was the Minbari word for general. “Minbari warrior leadership goes to the most skilled?” It wasn’t actually a question. She knew they chose leaders based on merit, not popularity nor bloodline. (Though part of her thought that their Grey Council were elected by popularity. Perhaps. She wasn’t sure.)

“Yes.”

As second to his clan’s general, Mireen had excellent skills. However, it also told her that she needed to give him detailed instructions for her first stop. Of a sort. She needed a bit more information first.

She stopped and turned to face him. They were in the deepest parts of Downbelow; they hadn’t run into anyone for two levels. They were as private as they could get on this ship. “I don’t know much about Minbari culture or traditions. Know that anything I say or ask is not meant to be an insult in any way.”

He had stopped with her, staring at her with such a non-expression that it was unnerving. He didn’t answer verbally, merely gave a small bow of his head in acknowledgement. The gesture could’ve meant anything from “that was obvious from your previous questions; I’m not a fucking idiot” to “thank you for letting me know”.

That was fine. They could get into details later. After. For now… “Here is what I know of the Minbari warrior caste: you are generally more aggressive than the other castes. Loyal to a fault. Honorable to your core. You serve and protect with your entire being, even if it requires your life. Trained in logistics, strategy, tactics, and all kinds of combat though you prefer the denn’bok.

“Night Walker clan are trained as foot soldiers, infantry credited to working in the shadows. As second to your Alyt, you would be an expert in ground combat, guerilla warfare, and stealth action. How am I doing?”

He blinked slowly twice. She could briefly see the surprised confusion flit across his face, a dozen questions behind his eyes, before he shut it down. “Correct.”

“Do you always give single word answers or am I special?”

He blinked again. “We are active.”

Oh.

Night Walkers. Ground tactics. Stealth action.

She twirled her sonic screwdriver idly as she mulled it over. “Right.” This qualified and he considered himself currently in active combat. Which meant he probably thought she was in moron for talking so much about seemingly nonsense things when they were on a rescue mission.

Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t nonsense conversation. (Well, mostly not nonsense. Of a sort. Given that she had been trained by the Doctor, a male seemingly incapable of being silent for any length of time, she showed a remarkable amount of restraint in her speech!) “Fine. I could probably talk for an hour and still not tell you everything I think might be useful in this situation. So, let’s go for the bare basics: you are an expert in anything combat or weapon related. I won’t argue that. However,” her eyes hardened, “I know a great many things that you don’t. And I’m no doubt about to do many things that you will want to object strongly to. You’ll want to fight me. That’s fine, we can hash it out later. Our current priority is the children. Right now, I need you to obey. Agreed?”

Another long pause filled with eye blinks. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” Minbari deceived in different ways; they didn’t lie outright, and they were honorable to their core. There wasn’t a word for betrayal in any Minbari language that she knew. Once he’d agreed, he wouldn’t go back on his word. “Information is my first objective. I’ve got two sources at the top of my list. This one was closer. You are not to engage under any circumstances. You cannot react to anything  you see or hear. Understood?”

Instead of a verbal agreement, he nodded once sharply.

“Good.”

+++++B5+++++

1102 hours

The Lady looked around them and set off again at a brisk walk. The warrior stayed a step to the side and two steps behind her, easily keeping pace. While he certainly didn’t like her orders, he had given his word. He would obey.

Mireen fought not to react in any way when he noticed a shift come upon his temporary commander. Her shoulders loosened. Her stride lengthened. Her grip on the metal cylinder unlike any he had ever seen slid so that her thumb rested upon a center dial. However, it was her new grace that caused his mind to reassess her threat level. Between one step and another, suddenly her feet made no noise. Almost seeming to walk above the floor rather than upon it. Twice it was as if she moved instantly from one step to the next without travelling the intermittent space.

Not in his considerable training, nor in his ensuing career had he ever seen anyone, of any species, move as she did now.

A cold feeling of dread curled inside his belly.

The farther they moved down this level, the darker it became until only shadows surrounded their single barely lit corridor. Ahead, the darkness became absolute in a vertical blanket. Approximately three meters from the wall, the Lady gestured for him to stop. She didn’t look to see if he obeyed as she took another three long gliding not-steps forward to the very edge of the darkness.

“Did you get my message?” in a loud clear voice she demanded to seemingly empty air. There was a long silence as his unease instantly doubled.

She waited.

Silence.

.

.

“Did your messenger do his job?”

Silence.

.

.

.

She waited impatiently, her hands on her hips, glaring at the shadow blanket. “Well?”

.

.

.

.

.

“Sorry, it took me a little bit to get here.” A human male with dark features stepped out of the shadows on her left. “You didn’t give me any notice that my presence was needed.” He gave a sly grin full of teeth. “And yes, your message was delivered verbatim, as requested.”

Nova scowled at the man, then looked back to the wall of darkness. “I don’t need a translator. I understand you just fine.”

Mireen had to use all of his considerable self-control not to react as he felt something in the shadows move. It was the blackness between stars…and there was something IN it. He knew it with every instinct he possessed.

Nothing heard.

Nothing seen.

Only felt.

His trepidation doubled again as his heartbeat began to sound in his ears, the only thing he heard for long, long moments.

“I want to know if you had anything to do with this.”

The human was obviously annoyed as she ignored his presence, speaking to the darkness directly, yet his smile didn’t drop. Instead, it sharpened. “What are you talking about?”

She bared her teeth to the darkness. “This is a violation of the Code, edict 16. If you, in any way, are involved, then I will be happy to remind your people of the consequences.”

“What Code?”

She flicked her eyes to the human, then back to the blackness of unseen entities. “I said I don’t need a translator,” she growled.

“I’m only here to help—"

She looked back to the male, her expression alone interrupting his words. “Shut. Up. Pet.” She faced fully forward, again dismissing the human as inconsequential. “If you didn’t organize it, or influence anyone to do it, then you DO know who would be most likely to do it for themselves. This is your area.”

She paused.

Her teeth bared. “Edict 17 requires you to offer all assistance to resolve a breach of edict 16. I won’t owe you anything.”

Another pause.

Her spine straightened. “I am the Lady Nova Morganson, ward of House Lungbarrow, heir apparent of House Blyledge, heir apparent of the Prydonian Chapter. I am Gallifreyan and you WILL follow the Code!” she finished half-shouting.

Pause.

Her smile held nothing but teeth. “Or, I will enact the full extent of edicts 9 through 11…and erase Z’ha’dum.”

Silence.

“Thank you,” she gave a mocking bow, “for your cooperation.” Turned and not-walked back the way she had come, gesturing for him to follow.

Mireen silently acknowledged that he had never seen anything even half so terrifying as a small humanoid female winning an argument with a vertical wall of starless black full of unseen, unheard movement.

Chapter Text

March 25, 2258 – “Parliament of Dreams”

“Earth Central declared that next week will be where all can demonstrate their dominant religious beliefs without worry of reprisals.”

“That sounds wonderful, if a bit idiotic,” Nova smiled back at Commander Sinclair with more than a little bit of confusion. “But what does that have to do with me?”

“The ambassadors are being asked to prepare an example of their religion to share with the station,” he clarified.

Nova choked on her drink, staring at him with wide eyes. “You’re joking.”

“Not at all. As the ambassador to Gallifrey—”

She raised a hand to cut him off. She paused, seeming to be choose her words carefully. “While Gallifrey holds many traditions and few holidays, thankfully none of them are being held next week.”

Sinclair blinked. “Why ‘thankfully’?”

She gave him a wry half smile, “Because the most dominant sacrosanct tradition on Gallifrey is impossible to replicate off-planet.”

He pursed his lips in thought. “What about the second most-kept tradition?”

“Would require a specialized ship.”

“Ah.”

“Everything else would be characteristic to specific Gallifreyan Houses that are family secrets, or attributes to specific jobs that wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else. Most would be impossible for outsiders to duplicate, so it’d be strictly observation only. Boring.” She shrugged. “After all, I highly doubt that watching me walk across a room would entertain anyone.”

“Walk…across a room?” he blinked.

“It’s one of many exercises I had to master before being allowed to go off on my own.”

“I…see… Well, thank you for your time.”

“No problem, Commander.”

Nova watched him leave and smiled to herself. Walking between seconds, even just to the other side of a room, to an outside third-party observer would be akin to watching her teleport herself. Even simply dancing between seconds while someone threw things at her would probably cause all sorts of chaos. However, since she wasn’t trying to do so, it was better they didn’t know.

There were many abilities that while the aftermath would no doubt be vastly entertaining in the short term, would be highly detrimental if they knew. Especially considering current Earth Alliance politics.

Most of the tools she used daily, such as her sonic screwdriver, wouldn’t take much at all to weaponize. Or toss her out of the back of a ship and watch the resulting devastation when she regenerated. Stars forbid if Psi Corps found out about her telepathic skills. The ramifications of such would echo across the galaxy!

No, it was much much better they didn’t know.

She was trying to be as inconspicuous as possible after all.

+++B5+++                                                                                                  “Lady? Do ya wanna do anything this week?” her youngest little, Danny, asked innocently.

(—No, he wasn’t ‘hers’ damnit! She wasn’t going to be staying forever. She couldn’t think of them like that! It’d be that much harder to let go when the time came.) “Hmm? What’da’ya mean sweetie?” she interrupted her own thoughts. There’d be time to beat herself up later.

“Like prayers or robes or food or something?” It was his tone that caught her attention more than the words. He sounded worried.

She looked over at him from where she was crouched working on her hobby side project console panel. (If she could just figure out the rewiring she could turn the whole thing into an industrial speedy composter. She could then siphon the nitrogen and feed it back into the aquaponics. Not to mention that while it wouldn’t smell great, the results would burn for ages.) Nova blinked at the sight.

Danny was obviously the spokesman for this little whatever-it-was. He was in front, fidgety and nervous, yet had backup in the form of all three of the other youngest littles right behind him. Little Charlie looking the most determined of the bunch, so probably the instigator.

Nova moved out from behind the panel to stand in front of the children, crossing her arms and leaning back against console. “Alright, you have my attention. What’s going on?”

“I saw the big-hair people have this big party with lots of food. And the bone-heads had on white robes with bells and red fruit.”

“The Centauri and the Minbari,” Nova corrected even as she nodded her understanding. Danny wasn’t being mean. He was simply young and providing descriptors because he thought it was faster (and he probably couldn’t remember their species name). “Yeah, them,” he nodded his own agreement.

“Commander Sinclair came around a few days ago to inform me that the station was having a religious free-for-all this week.” She tilted her head as the boy still fidgeted and her youngest female little looked even more determined. She waited.

(Not ‘hers’! She would have to leave in another year or so. She couldn’t lay claim!)

“Do you wanna do anything for your re-lig-on?” he pronounced the last word carefully.

“We’d do anything you wanted, Lady!” Charlie added, practically bouncing on her toes in her eagerness to show support. “Food or robes or fruit or…or…anything!”

“We don’t have religion, but we’d help if you wanted to do something,” Jamie, the second oldest, said. He was getting to that age where he was beginning to pay attention to the female of his species and had grown shy in the last few weeks. These days, even with Nova, he tended to look more at his toes than her eyes.

Nova smiled gently at the four. “Oh sweeties.” She knelt slightly in front of them to be more on their eyelevel. “That’s so nice of you to think of me, but I really don’t have much of a religion.”

“Nana said that everyone believes in something,” Charlie added.

Nova smiled wider. “Most people do, yes. As do I. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that I have a religion.”

“What’s the difference?” Kari wrinkled her nose.

“Well, a religion tends to be what a large group of beings decide they believe and agree to follow certain principles or rules,” Nova wondered how to explain the nuances between a spiritual person, a religious person, and an individual belief system. “My people, Gallifreyans, did have a religion a very long time ago, but not so much anymore.”

“Why not?”

Religion was a delicate conversation even when speaking of one version, let alone multiple planets and species! “We sort of…” she shrugged helplessly, “…grew out of it. As time passed, it seemed less and less important to follow strict tenets. As they went out amongst the stars, they realized how diverse the universe truly was. There’s hundreds of thousands of planets, peoples, and even more beliefs and religions. In the thousand years or so after they first started to travel, Gallifreyan religious philosophy was huge. Eventually the philosophers agreed that with so many different beliefs, they couldn’t all be right, but they couldn’t all be wrong either. And there was no way to tell either way for any of them with what the scholars already knew. So, they stopped worrying about it.” She shrugged again.

“Why?”

Of all the things she thought she was going to do today, a theoretical discussion of religion, or the lack of it, hadn’t been on her list. “They had bigger things to worry about than whose god was better or which was the correct way to pray.”

Four pairs of eyes stared at her for a long second. “What did they worry about then?”

She sighed. “The First War started around then.” She saw the lack of understanding and clarified, “They were too busy taking care of their families.”

“Oooh.” While the children didn’t really understand what a war was, only the oldest had a memory or two of the last one, they were orphans and run aways. They understood the need for survival and protecting from outsiders.

There was another pause as the children absorbed her words. “What do you believe in, Lady?”

Nova turned and made her way back to duck behind the console panel. “I suppose everyone believes in their parents to an extent. My Tabri, my foster father, is an,” terrifying, horrible, wonderful, stubborn, brilliant, prideful, “amazing man.” She fiddled with a few wires. “I suppose that I choose to believe people, species, are mostly good. And that if one simply knew enough, understood enough, that they could get along.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“From a nonlinear, non-subjective viewpoint, species as a whole are very predictable. It’s the individuals that can surprise you and be…fantastic.” The proud smile she sent their way made hearts warm. Silently, all those who saw that smile reaffirmed their commitment and dedication to their Lady.

+++++B5+DW+B5+++++

April 22, 2258 – “Mind War” – Ironheart

Nova’s hands stopped mid-motion when she felt a tremble in her mind. Her head whipped up and to the left, automatically zeroing in on the direction of the disturbance. She didn’t notice as those around her flagged her unusual behavior and stopped themselves, trying to identify what she had. She didn’t see as they tensed, murmuring to each other. She didn’t hear as several runners took off in different directions.

Something was wrong on Babylon 5. The Lady felt it. The Lady was in danger.

The Lady of Downbelow noticed none of these things. Her entire focus was on the niggle in her mind. There were several of different power levels. She knew that one was the resident Psi Corps officer on B5, Talia Winters. There were a handful or so hiding in Grey and Brown, hiding from the Psi Corps themselves. All these Nova was already aware. No, what she was tracking were two…no, three, new minds. All telepathic. All strong.

The third, the one that stopped her, was STRONG…far beyond what humans should be capable of in the twenty-fourth century, and he was not just a telepath either. His – for the mind felt male – was scared and running. Hiding. Desperate. In pain.

Which meant… “There are Psi Cops on Babylon 5,” she stated bluntly.

There was a flurry of activity as the word spread. Not just of what she said, but what she implied. Everyone knew there were those that were hiding from Psi Corps. And now they knew that something about the Lady let her know about Psi Corps too. Was she hiding too?

“What should we do, Lady?”

Nova was only barely aware of the residents of Brown-12 and Grey-17 around her, readying themselves to close ranks. She was focused on that singular new mind.

Gallifreyans were inherently touch-telepaths. Meaning that their skill and manipulation was incredibly high, but only with direct physical skin contact. Outside of skin contact, their telepathic level was practically human-low. However, their empathic ability was much higher than most, requiring training to shield against outside emotions.

That is what Nova was tracking now. The STRONG mind was panicking. He had too much in his head, both internal and external, and didn’t know how to control it.

“Shhhh…it’s alright. Pull it back.” He was a true telepath and would pick up her sending, even without skin contact.

His desperation was plain. A deep feeling of a lack of control.

“It’ll be okay. Calm…” She sent him soothing waves of contentment and peace. No matter how strong his telepathy was, her empathy was stronger. He was, after all, only human. After a few seconds, her emotions swamped his and he gentled. She also felt him latch onto her mind with his own, helping him block out everything else. “Good. There you go. Good. I’ll shield you while you find yourself. There you go. Good! Now, watch me…” Nova built up walls around his mind. “Now you do it.”

He laid several more layers. “Good!” she praised. “Last, make a way to control them. A dial or dimmer slide.” He did, creating a communication screen with the controls. “Great job!” This time however, she was on the outside of his mental shields, and he didn’t hear her. “As it should be,” she smiled and went back to fixing the light.

+++B5+++

Over two days, Nova had to help him rebuild his shields. Each time was more difficult for him. She was getting worried for him. The time it took to bring himself back together was getting harder and longer.

Then, abruptly, she cried out and collapsed. It was like a mental star suddenly EXPLODED! She knew it didn’t make a physical sound, but she heard it anyway. She had greatly underestimated his ability, his mental strength. He was beyond even Gallifreyans. Beyond her skill to keep him anchored and intact. He was breaking apart. His very Core Self shattering.

Nova screamed as she tried anyway. Tried to help him. Tried to keep him together…!

She failed.

She saw in her mind’s eye as he held on to bare little bits of his Self, just long enough to do…something for someone he cared for greatly. It wasn’t love, he was beyond basic emotions, beyond everything, but he held on to it with every fiber he had left. Just long enough to impart that something.

Then he turned to Nova herself, this time helping her bring herself together, pull her mind out of his own and built up her shields for her. Closing him out. A mirror of what she had done for him only days prior.

Then he was gone.

She was back in Grey-17, her littles around her. Frantic to help her. She smiled at them through her pain. Let them tuck her into bed and fuss over her as she contemplated the man and his last message to her.

It had been actual words this time, delivered directly to her mind. Overcoming her own mental shielding with the ease of water through gravel. Not harming her, just a sending. A reassurance.

“The memory of love endures. A single act of kindness expands. Hold to both.”

She watched her littles. HER littles.

And a piece of her heart settled into place.

            +++++B5+DW+B5+++++

July 6, 2258 – “Grail”

“Lady?” a male voice she halfway recognized called hesitantly. It was the careful hesitance that clued her in to who was speaking more than the tone.

“Thomas! It’s been awhile.” She pulled herself out from under the console with a welcoming smile. “How have you been? Have you been eating?” She saw the man with Thomas, or Jinxo as most called him, and raised an eyebrow. He was in a mostly plain white linen robe with cream accents over a cream shirt and khaki slacks, carrying a walking stick just a bit shorter than himself. A red symbol on the breast, right over his heart, caught her attention immediately. It was a bright crimson ancient Celtic knot design, in a triangle shape on a white background. It rang a small bell in the back of her memory, but nothing immediately jumped to connect.

Instead, to cover her scrutiny, she brushed off her hands and raised an eyebrow at the station’s good-luck charm. “You brought a monk to Downbelow?”

“Lady, this is Aldous Gajic.”

“Please forgive Thomas,” the monk gave a small bow, making her raise her other eyebrow to match. “He thought perhaps you might be able to help in my search.”

“You know so much, Lady. I thought you might be able to…”

“Color me intrigued,” Nova smiled gently. “What might you be searching for, Monk Gajic?”

“Just Aldous is fine, Lady. I am seeking the Sacred Vessel of Regeneration known also as the Cup of the Goddess.” He paused minutely, as if not wanting to continue. “Or by its more common name…the Holy Grail.”

Nova’s eyebrows went to her hairline, then settled into a placid neutral. Well, that explained his hesitance. She paused several long seconds, analyzing the man. When all he did was wait patiently staring back, she finally asked, “And if you found the Grail, what would you do with it, Monk Gajic?”

He startled. Apparently, that was not the response he expected. “Heal. Part of me hopes that it is powerful enough to heal all humankind.”

“Mmm,” she leaned back against the still-broken console, crossed her arms and looked at him. Looked into his eyes. He stared right back, not backing down but not pushing either. He had the look of a calm, easy going, friendly, loyal, genuine man. And he called Jinxo ‘Thomas’, which was also telling. As far as Nova knew, only herself and now Aldous called him by his given name. “I believe you,” she eventually acknowledged.

He smiled wryly, “But you won’t give me the information I seek.”

“No, I won’t.”

“May I ask why not?”

Nova sighed and gestured them over to a bench to sit. When they were settled, she sighed again. “Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, a very very long time ago, there was a planet unlike any other. A unique feature existed on this planet unlike anywhere else in the whole universe: a split in the very fabric of time. The species that evolved on that planet, constantly exposed to this time fissure, developed characteristics unlike any other. One of these characteristics was an extremely long lifespan and a genetic quirk that allowed them to heal from any injury, no matter how extensive.

“After some time, they found that this quirk allowed them to live TOO long. They became prideful, jaded, and callous. Uncaring of those around them. They made a decision that almost eliminated…everything.” Her voice had become so quiet as she told the tale. The depth of her resigned grief was palpable with the last, barely whispered word. It took a couple seconds before she continued. “The repercussions of that choice STILL reverberate throughout the universe. It was decreed to limit themselves before more costly mistakes were made.” She gave a great heaving sigh. “I am sorry, but the human race isn’t ready to make such a decision. And while I have no doubt that in your hands the Grail would be a tool of great good…I highly doubt it would stay in your hands for very long. The possible negative applications for such a device are many. It would be irresponsible to let something like that fall into the wrong hands.”

Aldous rose and bowed much deeper than before. “I understand. Thank you for your time and explanation. Until such a time, I am glad that someone such as yourself has our best interests at heart.”

She noticed that as they left Gajic was smiling. She huffed a sigh and went back to fixing the console.

+++B5+++

“Why are you so happy, Aldous? She didn’t give us any more than the Centauri, though she was more polite about it I suppose.”

Aldous smiled at his temporary assistant. “She gave me real hope for my search.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She REFUSED to tell me what she knew. Don’t you see?” His smile widened. “For knowledge to be denied, that indicates it is first known. If it didn’t exist to the best of her knowledge, she would have immediately said, as the others did.” He patted Thomas’ shoulder, his grin from ear to ear. “This visit was indeed successful.”

Chapter Text

September 1, 2258

1235 hours

Garibaldi’s day began very normally.

As always when he first woke, he checked his messages to confirm nothing significant had happened while he slept. Nope. Zilch. Excellent. He’d get a shower this morning. As he looked over his schedule for the day, he managed to eat breakfast. There wasn’t much going on that day. There would be a short meeting of the Advisory Council at 1300, but only to catch up on anything significant.

In all, it should be an eventless day.

His favorite kind.

However, it began to go downhill at 1238 hours.

His communicator beeped. He was in the process of getting everything ready for the council meeting (no bombs or assassins, no uninvited guests, and only the recording devices he already knew about). He sighed and pressed the patch. “Garibaldi.”

“Uh, sir?” A young voice. Hesitant. Probably a greenie.

“You got him.”

“Sir, there’s something going on in Downbelow, sir.” Oh yes, definitely a rookie. They were the only ones who called him ‘sir’ twice in the same sentence.

“Well, don’t keep me waiting. What is it?”

“Sir, I don’t know.”

Garibaldi fought not to growl or sigh. “Is it anything illegal?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“What DO you know? Why did you call me?”

“They’re gathering, sir. At the entrance to the Brown and Gray sectors.”

“Who is they?”

“The…uhh…residents?” A pause. “Some of them have weapons but they aren’t attacking. And the weapons aren’t real weapons. They’re mops and pipes and I think that’s a wrench. But they aren’t attacking, sir. They’re just…standing there. Staring at us.”

Garibaldi felt as his eyebrows climbed up into his hairline with every sentence. “The residents of Downbelow have formed a mob and are baring entrance to security personnel. Is that right?”

“…Yes, sir.”

“Gatherings that large have to be authorized and approved and no such gathering has the authority to prevent Babylon 5 personnel from right of passage. Its in the charter. Arrest the one in charge.”

“Uh, which one is that, sir?”

Oh yes, definitely a greenie. “The one in front.”

“Arrest the one in front. Yes, sir.” The line cut off.

Three minutes later, as the council was starting to convene, the beep of his comm echoed again. “Garibaldi.”

“Uh, sir? How many am I supposed to arrest, sir?”

Garibaldi did sigh then. “The one in front, the ringleader. How is that hard to understand?”

Londo and G’Kar raised their own eyebrows in unintentional mirror unison, even interrupting their newest argument as they unrepentantly eavesdropped.

“Sir, we did. Then another one stepped in front. We arrested that one too, but a different one took his spot. How many are we supposed to arrest, sir?”

Garibaldi blinked. This was new. “What are they saying, rookie?”

“That they aren’t allowing anyone into Brown Sector or Grey Sector.”

“And how many are there?”

The Minbari ambassador and her new aide, Lennier, walked in.

“Hard to say, sir. I can see about 10 right now, but there’s more beyond in the corridors. A lot more.”

There was no way that they had the space to hold as many as that implied. If the group wasn’t hostile and were just standing there, that wasn’t technically illegal. Maybe—

His thoughts were cut off. “Sir, one says that the Lady of Downbelow is really angry, and they are trying to make sure that no one else gets to her littles.” A pause. “What’s a little?”

Kosh glided into the room to take his place on the far end.

Delenn frowned in concern, Lennier stiffening behind her. “A little? A child? Someone has harmed a child?”

Garibaldi had also made the correct translation, and he caught that it was the Lady of Downbelow that was missing children. This was not good. “Let the ones you arrested go. Then have two guys stay to keep watch. Keep me posted.”

“But sir! What are we supposed to do?”

He reminded himself that this was a wet-behind-the-ears greenie and growled into the comm, “Keep the peace. Don’t let anyone else into those areas. Stare at each other. Tell me if anything changes. Garibaldi out.”

“The Narn would be more than willing to lend a hand if things get out of control,” G’Kar offered.

“As would the Centauri. For the right price.” Londo grinned.

“It is against Minbari law to harm a child. What assistance we can provide is yours.” Delenn added.

As if on cue, a Minbari entered the council room at a fast walk that was only barely not a run. A female in robes that he didn’t immediately recognize. They weren’t of the religious caste that Lennier and Delenn preferred, but nor were they of the black that anyone who fought in the Earth-Minbari War knew on sight. They immediately zeroed in on Delenn, not-ran over, bowed almost in half, and when they straightened they didn’t look directly at her.

“Dalaar,” Delenn addressed the other with more concern, “what has occurred to bring you to the council chamber in such a state?”

“S—” Garibaldi noticed that the Minbari ambassador’s right eye twitched and the Dalaar quickly corrected themselves, “Delenn, the Lady of Downbelow has invoked her full ambassadorial status.”

“What?” several voices barked in surprised unison.

“We arrived in time to hear that two children of the Lady have been taken. A third had been severely injured while trying to protect them. She instructed Kayal to protect those remaining. Mireen went with her.” The female bowed again. “I was to inform you and Commander Sinclair of these events before returning to aide Kayal.”

Delenn absorbed everything that was said, and everything that was unsaid. She nodded. “You did well. Go.” The other Minbari turned and exited at the same speed in which she entered.

“The Lady of Downbelow,” Londo muttered. “That’s the ambassador from Gallifrey. A planet that none of our scholars have been able to find any record.”

“An ambassador that hasn’t been interested in being an ambassador. She was quite rude at her own welcoming party,” G’Kar commented. “She has spoken to no other ambassador. And when I sent my aide to set an appointment, she wouldn’t even see him!”

“I’m more concerned with which ambassadorial status perks she just invoked,” Sinclair said.

“Diplomatic immunity at the very least,” Garibaldi stated the obvious. The thoughts of why she felt she would need such immunity was not encouraging.

“If she is moving in defense of children—” Delenn was cut off as yet another came through the doorway.

The Lady of Downbelow was wearing an expression that would put fear into the heart of anyone sane. The huge Minbari in all black who stepped in her wake was just icing to the cake of her intense almost-palpable rage.

Nova Morganson also proceeded to ignore everyone in the room, going right to the Vorlon ambassador. “Edict 16 of the First Code has been breached. Those children were under my protection. I’ve already asked your counterparts. It wasn’t them. Was it you?” The words were growled rather than spoken.

“No,” came the singing translation.

“Do the Vorlons follow the Code?”

“Yes.”

“Then you are obligated to help me.”

The Vorlon looked at her for long moments, then turned to look directly at Garibaldi.

Morganson followed his suited gaze and blinked. “A human? You’re deferring to a human?”

Garibaldi blinked. Nice to know who others felt about him. “How nice to be insulted before lunch.”

The suit inclined itself in a small bow.

Morganson didn’t even acknowledge his existence. She was too busy glaring at the Vorlon. “I don’t know why either of you try to pretend. You are just alike. Two sides of the same coin. You act little better than those you supposedly safeguard. Children fighting over who’s math is better.” She leaned forward, snarling. “Wake. Up. Math doesn’t care; the answer is the same either way!” With those rather confusing parting words, she spun around and stalked off.

The warrior Minbari silently followed. Throughout the entire thing, he had not said anything. Garibaldi knew that the Minbari in the room had exchanged speaking glances, but none had spoken outright. Just a raised brow ridge and a pointed look.

“Think I’ll contact Harker,” Sinclair said.

“Sounds good. I’ll send out my forces, see what they can find,” the Head of Security agreed.

+++DW+B5+DW+++

“WHAT?!” Boe Harker, aka Jack Harkness, exclaimed loudly enough to make the speaker screech in protest.

Sinclair waited for the man’s shock to subside. “You are the mediator for Nova Morganson. We would appreciate your advice.”

“My advice? My advice?!” Harker looked like it was Sinclair who had gone insane. He took a deep breath. “My advice is to batten down the hatches, you are in for a rough ride until this is over. I’ll be on the next transport to Babylon 5. Until I get there, for the love of all the galaxies, don’t get in her way!”

Garibaldi was beside him. His face was dark and as neutral as it ever got. “How bad is this going to get?” They knew next to nothing about the Gallifreyan ambassador. Not her capabilities or connections. “What can she do?”

Harker scoffed. “What can’t she do would be easier to answer. You don’t get it.” He shook his head. Off to one side, he was tapping and clicking, presumably arranging a ticket on the first ship to B5. When he looked back at the screen, he was grim. “You have No IDEA what is about to hit your station. Those children are hers in a very real sense. It is breaking several MAJOR inter-galactic laws to mess with anyone under their protection. Entire civilizations have been decimated for less!”

“What?” Garibaldi.

Sinclair was determined. “I have twenty-eight different species on my station. Almost 100,000 beings on board at any given time.”

“You’re going to have 100,000 dead or dying if you don’t do what I tell you. She can and WILL tear that station apart if she has to.”

“We’re listening.”

“Shut everything down,” Harkness spoke as he got up and began going through drawers, stuffing various items in his pockets. “Shops, restaurants, all transportation, both in and out. Invoke military discipline if you have to. Sound an alert for everyone to go to their quarters and lock their doors.”

“What you’re suggesting will cause a panic…”

“Do you want to survive this or not?” Jack asked ominously. He looked straight at the camera, instilling his absolute honesty for them to see. “The last time this happened, Nova was the one kidnapped. When her guardian went after her, he destroyed a planet, decimated a galaxy, committed genocide of two sentient species, and decimated another. That incident is the reason those inter-galactic laws were passed.

“I’ve already alerted the necessary agencies. Both the Shadow Proclamation and the Time Agency are setting up their own quarantine. It’s the best they can do to protect the rest of us.”

“My God…” Sinclair breathed, “That’s… Why didn’t they stop him? Her guardian? Why isn’t he locked up or—”

Harker’s hand was on the panel to open the door as he stared at them. “Because they can’t. Literally. They CAN’T. No one can. Even death won’t stop him.”

“Then what can we do?” asked Garibaldi in as steady a neutral tone as he could manage as his mind whirled.

“Find those kids. Get the ones responsible locked up in maximum security. Do it as fast as possible. Make certain she knows you’re helping. I’ll be there in six hours. Harker out.” The door was closing behind him even as the communication screen shut down.

Sinclair swallowed. Hard. “The Narn and Minbari are already helping. I’ll get the Centauri in on it, any information they can provide I’ll pass along. Let’s get this done.”

“Yeah,” Garibaldi was already walking towards the entrance. “I’ll be with my men, boots on the ground. Seems I have a kidnapping ring to locate and take into custody.

“A hell of a lot can happen in six hours.”