Chapter Text
BABYLON 5: THE VIRTUAL SIXTH SEASON
"THE PRICE OF FREEDOM"
Episode 10
SHADOWS OF THE PAST
by David Goldingay and Stephen J. Barringer
Originally released 05/00-06/00
AO3 version published with permissions as RoxyStreeter
************** FEATURING *****************
* * * Special Guest Stars * * *
BRUCE BOXLEITNER as President John Sheridan
MIRA FURLAN as Delenn
WALTER KOENIG as Bester
AND
RUSSELL CROWE as William Westcastle
* * * Also Featuring * * *
IAN ABERCROMBIE as Correlilmerzon
VICTOR ARMITAGE as Shival (RCTM)
ROMA DOWNEY as Brianna Tolmanes
MICHELLE FORBES as Alidarra
TOM JACKSON as Captain Victor Cardinal
JAMES MORRISON as Tashann
CLIVE REVILL as Breinleung
TUCKER SMALLWOOD as David Endawi
PETA WILSON as Lanniel
CAPTAIN'S CABIN, EAS THEBES
MAY 19, 2263, 06:59 EST
"Computer, activate personal log," the Captain ordered. "Append to previous log, same heading."
"Standing by," the computer replied.
The Captain took a deep breath, then, and began to speak.
"...I first attained this rank in the months before President Clark rose to power, and since that terrible day, I have done many things I am proud of... and many things that still give me nightmares. I remember the firefight between the destroyer groups loyal to Lochley and Tikopai in the skies above Orion VII... I remember the colours of death.
"I was there of course, you see. I remember the fleet commanded by Sheridan sweeping past our disabled commands above Mars, and I remember being able to do nothing at the time... which was probably for the best, of course. Shortly thereafter, the regime of President Clark self-destructed from the top down... and things began to return to normal. Though how one defines 'normal' is a very good question in this day and age.
"What hasn't changed, though, is this: we started off on the low end of the totem pole, technologically, and even after all the strides we've made since the Centauri gave us jump technology, we're still learning. The generals and the engineers, they're so proud of our technology, of our Omega-Class destroyers. 'Wonderful', they call them. You have to remember, though, that the Alliance White Stars ran circles around us at the Battle of Mars... what I'm leading towards, of course, is obvious. Back during Clark's reign, the techies reverse-engineered a lot of stuff they shouldn't have... case in point, the whole situation with those newfangled Warlock ships—near as I can recall, that still hasn’t been sorted out properly. Doesn't seem to matter how many slaps on the wrist we get, though; as soon as they think the ISA isn't watching, out we go again.
"Out to where the stars are dimmer, farther apart. Out to worlds hidden and ancient.
"To places where Shadows used to walk...."
Captain Victor Thomas Cardinal paused then, and shook his head somberly. "Computer, pause log." The stocky Native American man, whose hair was only lightly touched with gray, turned away from the computer, his eyes showing his exhaustion and worry. Here, alone in his cabin, he could afford that.
For over three months now, his command, the Omega-class destroyer Thebes, along with the two lighter exploration vessels he had been assigned to guard, had been cautiously moving among the sectors of space once controlled by an ancient force which President John Sheridan had banished more than two years ago—a force that commanded a vast order of spidery black warships, able to deal out death in an instant... and worse, if the rumours were true. A force the Minbari had named the Shadows.
Three more months they were supposed to be out here, and then, he and his crew could finally return home....
At which point his link chimed. Cardinal smiled as he checked the chronometer on his desk... she was right on time, as usual. "This is Cardinal. Go ahead."
"And good morning to you too, Captain!" began his exec, Commander Rachel DeWolfe, before she immediately turned her attention to what was almost always the next item of business—the current status of the expedition. "Just thought I'd let you know, sir, we're presently making our final approach to system GC 8717. Mr. Menzies and the crew of the Hephaestus are wondering if we could open a jump point for them and take them out into normal space; there doesn't seem to be any gate in the vicinity, and their own jump engines are still down."
Cardinal frowned. "No gates, huh? That's fairly unusual for a Shadow system, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir," DeWolfe emphatically replied. "Very. All of the systems the IPX boys have taken us into so far have had tri-tine gates... it's because this one doesn't that Menzies is interested."
"All right, then." Cardinal fastened the clasp on his uniform tunic and headed towards the door. "I suppose we can humour them this time around."
"Standard procedure, sir?"
"Absolutely. Soon as we come out of the point I want both Thunderbolt squadrons in space, Commander. Even though the Shadows may be long gone, from what I understand some of their allies are still around. If there's any of 'em in this system, I want plenty of warning—because if things get hairy, we may have to get out of here in a hurry."
"Confirmed, sir. Making jump transition... now."
STAR SYSTEM GC 8717
07:02 EST
It had been a very long time since they had been this far into the Great Deep. For as long as the elders could remember, the long sleep of Stone had meant everything to them, the endless slumber they had enjoyed while basking in the heat coming from below. But then, the small-creatures had come again... the disturbances had begun anew. Finally it had been as they had feared—one of their younglings had grown frustrated, and had chosen to turn aside from the safety of the Places Below to move upwards toward the cold at the surface. The communications they had engaged in as the youngling had emerged had told the story in full: the ancient place had been crawling with small-creatures, poking amongst the ruins of the places built by the Masters when they had all been young... desecrating what once had been.
The youngling had attacked, and in turn, the metal-flyers of memory had shrieked down upon it from above. And then, one of them had died.
A ripple of anger had passed through their ranks at that, a ripple that quickly grew into an unstoppable need for revenge. The youngling had only tried to protect the memory of the Ancient Masters and defend their place, and that defense had been mocked. In time, they had moved up closer to the surface, and there had the revelation occurred.
A contact had been established with another set of small-creatures in the Above, but even through their rage they remembered these creatures before they had grown to become what they now were. These named themselves Drakh, and in short order the Drakh had proven their loyalties to the memories of the Ancient Masters... and had in turn suggested that the Swarm should enter into a compact with them. Explanations were demanded, and in time, understanding was achieved, and then it was that their anger grew.
The Drakh had proceeded to lay out before them the nature of what was, and the nature of their plans. They could scarcely believe that it was so... but the truth could not be ignored. The Ancient Masters and the Great Enemy had both been banished—by creatures that had moved into space since they had begun the long sleep! These creatures, named Humans, had been the ones to disturb their rest... and with their allies, had been the ones to murder their youngling. Now the elders gave cry to their anger, now those who had done this deed had been identified.
You wish revenge upon those who have done you harm, the Drakh suggested. These creatures who are also our enemies.
They had agreed, and then they had asked: what can be done?
Long it has been since we encountered your kind, the Drakh had replied. We had in truth believed that no more of you still lived, that the only descendants still living followed the Great Masters into the darkness beyond the stars. We are pleased, however, to find that this is not the case.
Long we have slept, they replied, but now we have learned the nature of things, perhaps it is time for us to arise once more. We are few, but from what you tell us, our descendants caused these creatures you name "enemy" to fear for their lives... if they are capable of this task, then so still are we.
We are the original form, but our cry is the same; we have not forgotten how to build our weapons. We will help you in your plans, if you will help us in ours.
Explain to us your intent, the Drakh had asked.
They had.
And now, outliers of their Swarm hung motionless in the rays of a star far from their former home, and these watched the void flare and twist open into a Traveler's-passage. A sign of the Great Enemy, this was... They did not need to use such means of travel, of course. Their method, a method the Masters had adapted for use in their descendants, was far more subtle.
But since the enemy did use the Traveler's-passages, this was a weakness that they could certainly exploit. And as the crude metal craft came out of the passage, they began to make their plans.
And those plans made, they then began to move.
BABYLON 5, BLUE SECTOR
07:03 EST
The trill of the BabCom alarm kicked Colin out of an uneasy dream involving a faceless woman in an unidentifiable uniform, something that seemed to partake of Earthforce, MetaPol and Anla'shok garb equally, who stared down at him and touched his face with a strangely insubstantial hand. So strong was the image that he jolted upright and looked around for her reflexively before he became conscious of being conscious.
He slumped, feeling dislocated and annoyed—he'd dozed off on his couch last night, rather than adjourning to the bed, and his uniform felt rumpled and sweaty. But the BabCom continued to trill, with the peculiar note of a StellarCom call, and Colin rather suspected he knew who it would be. He didn't bother to find his hairbrush before answering. If it was who he thought, then the caller could damn well cope with him looking disheveled, and if it wasn't... well, anyone who called at this ungodly hour couldn't expect perfection.
"Mr. Bester."
"Mr. Ferris!" The cheery greeting set Colin's teeth on edge. Bester beamed out at him from the screen as if he'd never been so glad to see anyone in his life. "Still looking a little ragged, I see. Hasn't Captain Lochley let you get any sleep this week?"
From another person, that innuendo would have been sexual; from Bester it meant something entirely different. Are you still jumping and skipping at the beck of the mundanes? My, my, Mr. Ferris, you'll have them all thinking we're trained puppies before long!
Colin clenched his teeth. "Actually, sir, it's been very quiet. I've... I've been having bad dreams, is all."
"What? You don't sleep the sound sleep of the just every night? I'm shocked, Mr. Ferris. Quite shocked."
Colin resisted the urge to put his fist through the screen. It was startlingly difficult. He wondered at the strength of his anger.
He had never liked the older Psi Cop much—the differing philosophies of their factions within the Corps had ensured that, although Colin disliked thinking in terms of "factions" to begin with—but he had always respected Bester as a consummate professional. On the rare occasions they'd met on Earth, Colin had found him mildly irritating but far from unbearable. After all, Bester could be excused most of the time for acting like a know-it-all; when it came to the Corps and to rogue-hunting, the man practically did know it all.
Recently, though—and in brutal honesty, "recently" meant pretty much as soon as Colin had been assigned to Babylon 5—the man's smug superiority towards the rest of the universe had become more and more infuriating. It had started with Frost, worsened with Lucy Thoreson, and crystallized during the brouhaha with Owen Strainger and the Byronites—when Colin had had an epiphany of his own with a young woman named Sheynell Keynes.
Colin had enjoyed teaching the arrogant young Psi Cop trainee her lesson—more than he should have, he had to admit. But it hadn't really been Keynes he was attacking. So far as he could tell her only real flaw was picking the wrong hero to obsessively remold herself into. It had been the man she was trying to become... the man she had served as effigy for, that day in the Sanctuary when he had turned Sheynell's fury and overeagerness against her with an ease and pleasure that, even now, still sickened him when he thought about it.
Of course, it sickened him even more to think of the way she'd walked into Elizabeth's mind without so much as a by-your-leave, as if it was her right to invade the soul of whoever she wanted.
And perhaps that was it. Colin had always believed that invading the souls of others without their permission was wrong. But here on Babylon 5, alone with a vast crowd of concentrated thought, virtually the only telepath within light-years—and most certainly the only P12—that temptation had become stronger than he'd believed possible. That he had resisted it was one of his great, secret prides. And that Bester not only did not resist it, but took every excuse to do it... much as Colin hated to admit it, it wasn't just the righteous indignation of seeing the helpless violated. It was the sickening, secret envy of someone who could do it at will.
He kept most of it off his face, and the little that slipped through he knew he could justify as the irritation of the barely-awake. Not even a P12 could scan across light-years with nothing but a vidscreen image to work with. "I should think you'd be pleased to hear my rest is uneasy, Mr. Bester. After all, wouldn't that mean I was as worried about your agent's impending visit as you seem to think I should be?"
"Are you worried?"
"Should I be?"
"Only you can answer that, Mr. Ferris."
"If this visit was only what it seemed, I would."
The elder Psi Cop raised an eyebrow. Colin sighed. "I don't presume to be your match in experience or ability, Mr. Bester—"
"Oh, nonsense, Colin, you underrate yourself."
"—but I know you never do anything for only one reason," Colin plowed on. "And I can't help but think that your agent, acting on those other reasons, is only going to create yet another situation that will bite me, pardon my French, right on my ass."
The corner of Bester's mouth twitched, and for a change it looked like genuine amusement rather than his usual sneering sardonicism. "Really." He glanced down at his console, pressing keys. "Then I should probably introduce you to said agent. Who has, I must inform you, been listening."
Before Colin could process this the screen split. Beside Bester's face appeared the image of a young woman, with a long mane of dark reddish hair and deep-set, shadowed brown eyes; her wide mouth looked like it was naturally prone to smiling but was now held in a flat blank line. The ID codes all around her image set her time and location: a ship in hyperspace, on the jumpgate lines between Earth and B5, less than a day's transit away. That several of those codes were blanked out with security shields didn't surprise Colin in the slightest. Of course a protégé of Bester's would use a Corps mothership.
"Mr. Colin Ferris, Ms. Brianna Tolmanes," said Bester with a flourish in his voice. "Well, Ms. Tolmanes, what's your opinion? Do you think it'll be necessary to bite Mr. Ferris on his ass?"
Tolmanes closed her eyes, flushing brick-red. Colin was startled to realize there was quite a bit of heat in his own face, and he used his embarrassment to fuel his anger. "I don't take kindly to being monitored without my knowledge, Mr. Bester!"
"She was going to start within the day anyway," said Bester, feigning bewilderment. "And you can be sure she will not inform you every time she is monitoring you. That would rather defeat the purpose, don't you think?"
Colin took refuge from his anger in the only place he could: a wisecrack. He raised an eyebrow of his own at Brianna. "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this, anyway?"
Brianna's mouth worked. "Fulfilling my obligations," she muttered at last in a surprisingly throaty contralto.
"A superficial answer which is in reality cryptic and uninformative." Colin lifted his hands, palm up, and looked at Bester. "She's really got the Psi Cop act down, hasn't she?"
"I am not a Psi Cop!" snapped Brianna before Bester could answer. "I'm—" She flushed again. "I'm a temporary attache to Mr. Bester under... confidential arrangements."
"And that is as much as you need to know, Mr. Ferris," said Bester flatly, all humour gone from his voice. "Just be aware that Ms. Tolmanes has the ability to monitor you wherever, whenever she needs to... and she will be doing so. Don't think you can deceive her or elude her. Even trying will reflect very badly on your record. Am I clear?"
"As crystal, Mr. Bester," Colin replied through locked teeth. "As... crystal."
He punched the TERMINATE button with his fist, sat breathing with his eyes shut for a few moments, and let his suddenly aching head subside to the console. His mind whirled. An observer. A stranger, secrets, and lies. Everything that the Psi Corps had somehow become more and more infected with in his time here.
Or, his relentlessly honest mind added, everything that was there all along, and that you're only just now beginning to see?
Well, perhaps Tolmanes might be able to break his shields, but he was damned if he'd give her an excuse to try… and if she could break his shields, which only a P12 could do, what was she doing out of a MetaPol uniform in the first place?
I never thought I'd say this, Colin admitted to himself, but I think I'm really, really beginning to hate the way the Corps operates.
Later, he would blame the thought on fatigue and ill-temper, and recant it.
Consciously, at least.
PSI CORPS HEADQUARTERS, GENEVA, SWITZERLAND
07:11 EST
Bester regarded the blank space where Colin's circuit had terminated, then turned his black gaze on Brianna. The young woman met his look without flinching... but deep down in her eyes was the flicker of awareness, that helpless compulsion that came out of blackmail and honour. Tolmanes wasn't going anywhere. He knew it, she knew it, and each knew the other knew it. And much as Bester prized his dispassion, there was a peculiar satisfaction that came from that knowledge.
"You see why observation has become necessary," he explained.
"What is it about that place?" Tolmanes wondered aloud, shaking her head. "It changes everyone. They should put up a sign. 'Babylon 5—Come As One Person and Leave As Another'."
Bester chuckled. "Somewhat exaggerated, Ms. Tolmanes—I've been many times, and I remain who I am. Who I choose to be."
"Yes, I'm sure you do."
Bester's smile twisted as Tolmanes flashed the first smile of her own. It was a smile of perfect understanding, and malice-laden as it was on both sides, there was a peculiar pleasure in that, too. "Then you realize that it is vital you report anything you find. Anything, Ms. Tolmanes. If you have to tear the man's life apart to get your answers—if you have to break his shields and go in by force—then do it. I will accept nothing less than utter and complete discovery."
"Do you hate this man so much?"
Bester paused. The question had genuinely surprised him, and he gave it some thought before answering. "Hatred is... irrelevant, Ms. Tolmanes. What I dislike is uncertainty, and Colin Ferris is no longer a known quantity. He is the down card in a poker hand, if you will, and I must know what he is before I start the next round of betting." He shrugged. "I don't care if he's joker, ace, wild card or black queen—I merely want to know."
"Is there anything you don't want to know?"
"You, my dear Brianna, do not want to know the consequences of failure." And Bester hit a button.
LINK TERMINATED
EAS THEBES
07:13 EST
"Commander," Cardinal began as he finally arrived on the bridge, "an update on our progress, if you wouldn't mind?"
"Yes, sir. Alpha Squadron and the Hephaestus are moving in-system—long range scans seem to indicate the fourth planet of this system possesses a significant network of artificial... constructs, for lack of a better word. Mr. Menzies and his people are of the opinion that these might actually be Shadow cities."
Cardinal snorted at that as he sank into the captain's chair. "He's making a big assumption there, isn't he? We still don't know for certain if they built cities."
"I think we can safely assume that they did, sir. After all, there's that story about their homeworld, Z'ha'dum, going around... supposedly Sheridan himself went there during the war and blew up one of their cities himself."
"The same man who came back from the dead?" Cardinal shook his head. "I grant you we were on the wrong side of the line Earth drew in that war—the inside—but even so, that sounds to me like something the winning side made up about one of their greatest heroes."
DeWolfe sounded dubious. "Sheridan is a hero, sir, and we've got no way of knowing exactly what happened during the Shadow War...."
"Then why hasn't he made more political capital out of it for the Interstellar Alliance?" Cardinal raised his eyebrows. "And how did he survive personally blowing up a city at ground zero? For that matter, why haven't any of the real high-ups—people like Sheridan or General Ryan or their direct subordinates—talked about it to ISN? Maybe there's a good answer for those questions, maybe not... but it's certain that we'll never find out the truth."
"Guess you're probably right about that, sir...." All of a sudden, DeWolfe's voice trailed off as the sensor readings coming to her board suddenly... changed. "Captain, I think you'd better take a look at this."
Cardinal recognized that tone—and in the instant he realized all the humour and banter was gone from his exec's voice, the captain of the Thebes became all business. "You've seen something you don't like." Statement of fact, not a question.
"Yes, sir—there's some kind of distortion field forming between the Hephaestus and the rest of us!"
"Damn it, I knew this was too good to be true. All right, Commander, bring us to battle stations, warm up the jump engines and put Gamma Squadron on point around the Fitzgerald. Menzies, this is the Thebes, if you are able to respond."
"This is Hephaestus, go ahead," the dry, almost bored voice of Gordon Menzies came back to him, as the warning sounds of battle readiness echoed throughout the bridge of Cardinal's command. "Captain, this had better be important."
"Our sensors have picked up spatial disturbances near your position, Captain. Suggest that you pull back to rejoin the rest of the squadron at once."
"I'm sorry, Captain, I don't think I can do that. Not this time, not now we're so close!"
Cardinal gritted his teeth—so that was the way it was going to be, was it? It was always the same with the IPX people—the money and the artifacts always came first, and the safety of their crews a distant second. "Damnit, Menzies, pull back at once! That's an order!"
"In case you've forgotten, Captain, we're IPX and JESUS CHRI—" Only at the last minute did Menzies realize what was happening, as all around his command, inky black ships suddenly shimmered into existence, the snaky tendrils of their forms a liquid black beneath the light of the system's primary. And by that point it was too late to escape from what came next, as almost simultaneously, that handful of black vessels opened fire on the Hephaestus, the violet fire of their energy beams come back to haunt those who thought that nightmare banished forever.
Scant seconds later, all that was left of the IPX vessel and the Thunderbolt squadron that had accompanied them was a burning field of wreckage, slowly tumbling in orbit around a world of dark memories... a place where the past had decided to come calling.
For a moment, there was nothing but deathly silence on the bridge of the Thebes. But only for a moment. "Commander!" Cardinal bellowed. "Bring those jump engines online, now! And get me the captain of the Fitzgerald!"
"Done and done!" DeWolfe shakily replied. Her hands moved; a moment later, the vacuum behind the Thebes crackled and tore open into the maw of a jump point. The destroyer swung about on guidance thrusters, bringing its prow to bear on the point.
"Thebes to Fitzgerald." Cardinal's words came fast as bullets as he watched the sensor board. The small group of enemy warships whirled in space, darting towards his command. "Calthrawn, get into hyperspace, we'll cover you as best we can!"
"Those are... those can't... this is impossible!" the flabbergasted IPX captain replied. "They're supposed to be gone, for God's sake! No one said we'd have to face Shadow warships—!"
The line fell silent. DeWolfe nodded at her Captain's unasked question. “The Fitzgerald is jumping, sir. Enemy warships will be in range in six minutes at their present rate of closure. Orders?"
"Take us into the point, Commander," Cardinal commanded, his expression bleak. "We have to get out of here. Earthgov has to know what's happened here, this day."
"You know, of course—" DeWolfe's voice was as bleak as her CO's expression "—that the Shadow vessels were supposed to be faster than anybody." The Thebes raced into the jump point and out into hyperspace, surrounded by its fighters. "That once they started chasing you, they would never, ever give up. That not even the Minbari could easily defeat one of their warships. If they choose to pursue, sir...."
Cardinal nodded—it didn't have to be said. If the things they had encountered at GC 8717 took up the hunt, none of the people under his command would likely stand a chance—and the Thebes herself would probably be carved up like a lamb come to the slaughter. If they decided to pursue.
If.
Ten minutes passed. Then thirty... an hour. An hour of silence, an hour in which the terrified aft fusion battery crews scanned the red-and-black glare of hyperspace looking for black nightmares. An hour in which tense engineers tended fusion reactors pushed almost to the redline, as the Thebes raced through hyperspace at the highest speed it could manage and still hold its formation with the IPX vessel Fitzgerald. But that hour passed, and then two more.
Finally, as focus began to give way to exhaustion, Cardinal decided to turn command over to his Watch officer, and together with DeWolfe, he left the bridge. In silence, the two officers made their way to his office, and shut the door tightly behind them. And only then, where there was no one to hear them, did Cardinal say what he wanted to almost from the moment they had jumped. "Why?"
"Why didn't they follow us? Why didn't they kill us, the way they killed Menzies and his crew, the way they obliterated Lt. Meisha and her squadron?" DeWolfe replied, her voice raw with exhaustion and tension. "Captain, why ask why? They let us go this time, and I, for one, do not want to go back and ask them why they chose to spare our lives! Let's take this as a warning—and if even a few of them have come back from exile...."
"If they're back, Commander," Cardinal finished for her, "then our troubles are only just beginning."