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Title: Shadow on the Pattern, Part 3
Rating: PG
Genre: Crossover of Battlestar Galactica and Babylon 5
Spoilers: Through Rapture, then goes AU. Set in Babylon 5 season one.
Characters: Background Sam/Kara but mostly gen adventure with Gaeta, Barolay, Hotdog, etc. Plus the crew of B5.
Summary: When Racetrack and Skulls discover Earth Station Babylon 5, everything changes for the Colonial Fleet. Sam, Kara, Gaeta, Barolay and Hotdog are sent to the station on a recon mission.
Note: Part 3 of my occasionally, infrequently updated crossover WIP. This part has been sitting under lock for quite a while (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lyssie, you already read this one), and I thought I might as well put it up for those who might like it. I make no promises that there will ever be more - sorry!
Part One
Part Two
Part 3
Sam had no idea what dinner was, some sort of sauce over pasta with bread and a side of an unfamiliar vegetable. But he didn't care what it was. It wasn't reconstituted algae, and was possibly the best food Sam had eaten since the fall of Caprica. He was pleased to see the others eating with good appetite too, at least until Brendan and Jean grabbed the last piece of bread and threatened to tussle over it.
"Kids, share," he teased. "Let's not make our hosts think the colonies have no manners." Jean let go and Brendan ripped the piece and gave a half to her.
The door opened, and Sam glanced up to see Garibaldi. He beckoned Sam up. "You get your wish. The commander's on his way. Let's go."
Kara stood up with him, but Garibaldi fixed a look on her. "Just him."
She was looking balky, so he touched her hand, "I'll be back soon."
"You better," she threatened and sat back at the table to play with two forks rather ominously.
"Good luck," Gaeta wished him, and the others echoed it as Sam went out into the corridor.
They went down only a little ways, and through an open door into a room much smaller than the conference one his team was occupying. There was only a small table with four chairs, and a computer screen embedded in the wall.
There was a man standing before the screen, frowning at it, even though it was blank. He was wearing a blue uniform reminiscent of a Colonial Fleet one, and he was only a little shorter than Sam. His dark hair was starting to silver at the temples, and when he faced the door, his face was one comfortable with somber reflection, with deep-set but penetrating eyes beneath heavy brows.
Garibaldi introduced them, "Commander Jeffrey Sinclair, the CO of the station. And Samuel Anders."
To his surprise, Sinclair offered his hand. "I don't know if this is your custom --"
Sam took two steps closer to clasp his hand. "Yes, it is."
They shook hands and Sinclair sat in the nearest chair. "Have a seat, Mister Anders. We have a lot to talk about."
Sam took the seat across from Sinclair. For a long moment, Sinclair looked at him. Sam didn't quite know how to take the regard. He didn't seem hostile or fearful, but in spite of what he said, he didn't talk right away.
"We really are from the Twelve Colonies," Sam offered, knowing his words were no kind of proof.
"I believe you," Sinclair said, to Sam's astonishment. "I got confirmation of their existence from the Vorlons."
"Vorlons?" Sam asked, curiously.
"You don't know them? That's interesting, because they know you. They're a very ancient race. You indicated your colonies were inside their territory, and when I spoke to Ambassador Kosh he admitted it." Sinclair paused, as though to give Sam a chance to explain, but Sam was just confused. How could the Colonies be in some other people's space and the Colonies not know about aliens? He gave a shrug and shook his head a little.
"I don't know all the old histories or scriptures, but I'm pretty sure we don't know anything about them."
"The Vorlons are highly secretive and very advanced. Your people might not even know that they've been visited. Though Vorlon intervention might at least explain what humans were doing on planets a long way from Earth," Sinclair told him. Before Sam could start explaining about the Lords of Kobol, Sinclair shook his head once, shelving the topic, and continued briskly, "Well, I suppose this isn't exactly the time to unravel your history, though I have to admit I'm very curious. You have more urgent problems to discuss. I haven't given my report to Earth Dome yet, but I know my superiors are going to be interested in numbers. As in, how many refugees are there and how many ships?"
Relieved by the turn back to practical concerns, Sam answered, "About forty thousand, including children, spread out on less than one hundred ships of different sizes."
"And what happened to your Colonies?"
Sam was going to answer "Cylons", and then reconsidered. He remembered Jean saying how these people might not be too happy to know the fleet had brought them a new enemy. "We were attacked. We don't know why. But they came and nuked everything." He felt queasy at the reminder and wished he hadn't eaten so much. Anti-rad meds were almost as nausea-inducing as the radiation itself.
He continued, "Everyone who could escape, did, in little vacation boats and cargo ships, and even one prison ship. They all gathered together and jumped to hyperspace. That was almost three years ago -- we've been running, trying to survive ever since. And looking for Earth."
Sam looked at Sinclair steadily, hoping he didn't see the half-truth about the attacks. But until he had a better idea what Earth Alliance might do if they found out about the Cylons, he thought he'd better hold it back.
The commander nodded once, not taking his gaze from Sam. But he didn't call Sam a liar, so after a moment, Sam relaxed.
"It hardly seems adequate, but you have my sympathies," Sinclair said. "Ten years ago we faced our own invasion and the end of our people. We were..." he paused, and finished with a small grimace, "... lucky. It's a tragedy that you weren't."
"Invasion?" Sam asked, his stomach clenching in sudden anxiety. What if the Cylons were already here? "Earth was attacked?"
"The Minbari," Sinclair answered. He glanced away from Sam, who realized during the tale that it was something Sinclair had lived through. "First contact went very badly wrong. They took offense, and declared holy war on us. Their technological advantage was too great and they pushed us all the way back to Earth."
"And then?" Sam prompted, when Sinclair didn't seem inclined to finish.
"And then they stopped. No one's sure why. Maybe they made their point," Sinclair answered. He didn't sound as though he believed it. After a moment's hesitation, he added, with a flicker of a smile, "We get along much better today, thank God."
Sam couldn't help the reflexive stiffening at the singular deity. Cylons had a God; humans didn't. Sinclair caught it, flaring his eyebrows a trifle. "Something, Mister Anders?"
He dampened his lips. "We, uh, have several gods. "God" sounds wrong to me."
"There are several religions of Earth with multiple deities," he assured Sam. "One of our founding tenets is freedom of worship. You are free to worship any deity or deities you choose in your own way. Or none at all, if you want." He eased back in his chair with a rueful look. "I have to admit we learned some very hard lessons about tolerance over our history."
"Oh," Sam said, trying to process the concept of 'several' religions with their own gods. "I see. How many Humans are there in the Earth Alliance?" he asked.
"Eleven billion, give or take," Sinclair answered. "Most are still on Earth, but we have several colonies outside the system as well, particular the large settlements on Proxima and Orion. Don't worry; we'll find a place for your people," he reassured Sam.
Sam nodded, finding that he believed Sinclair. "I hope so," he said. "We've been looking for a new home for what seems like a very long time now."
"You'll get one," Sinclair said. "But first, I need all five of you to agree to a medical exam and a blood sample."
"To prove we're human?" Sam guessed.
"I believe you, but Earth Dome will need proof before beginning the process of resettlement. And after that, in the morning, I'd like to meet your president, and see your fleet for myself. I presume that Raptor of yours can take me there?"
"You'd go back with us?" Sam asked in surprise.
"Is there any reason I shouldn't?" Sinclair asked. Beneath the casual question was very sharp intent, and he watched Sam closely as he answered.
"No, no," Sam assured him. "Not at all. Well, it could be dangerous if the jump goes wrong," he corrected himself, "but Kara's a great pilot. There shouldn't be a problem. I know President Roslin is eager to meet people from Earth."
Sinclair smiled faintly. "Well, I was born on Mars, but I'll have to do, for now." He stood, and Sam followed his lead. "I'll do what I can for your people, Mister Anders."
They shook hands again. "I appreciate that."
The door opened as Sinclair approached, to reveal Garibaldi standing there. He frowned at his commander, but Sinclair spoke first, "Garibaldi, all five of them need to visit Doctor Franklin in Medlab."
"I heard," Garibaldi answered and waved up one of his men. "Sergeant Allan will escort you."
Another tall man about Sam's age, nodded politely. "Sir. This way." Two guards joined them and they went back down the corridor to the conference room.
Kara was on her feet when Sam came in. "So?" she demanded.
"I think we're good," he answered. "Come on, they want us to prove we're humans, and not some kind of aliens in disguise. So we're going to get a little poked and prodded by their doctor."
Jean chuckled once as she pushed herself up to her feet. "Remind me why I volunteered for this again?"
"To watch my back," he retorted. He noticed Kara hanging back and went to her. "What is it?" he murmured.
She stared right at his chest, not lifting her eyes. "Nothing," she muttered, and promptly contradicted herself. "I don't want some strange doctor around me."
He knew why too, but didn't say anything in front of the others. "They're going to take a little blood, that's all. Nobody's gonna make you do anything you don't want to, Kara. But we have to prove we're human or they won't help us. And then in the morning, we're going to take Commander Sinclair to the Fleet," he explained.
"Already?" she asked.
"It was his idea," he said with a little shrug. He took her hand and squeezed. "Come on. It'll be okay."
Brendan offered from the other side of the room, "They can't possibly have a doctor with a worse bedside-manner than Cottle, Captain."
"Considering how many times Doc Cottle's saved all our asses, let's have a little respect, Costanza," she rebuked him sharply, but then she was smiling as she thwacked Sam on the upper arm and started for the door. "You coming, Sammy?"
=================
"You love doing this to me, don't you?" Garibaldi complained, pacing after Sinclair. "Going off station to visit their fleet, when we know nothing about them? He could've been lying through his teeth the whole time."
Sinclair glanced at him sidelong, "Did you think he was?"
"Well, no. He's holding things back though."
Sinclair was relieved that Garibaldi's assessment matched his own. Anders seemed honest by nature, and he'd been uncomfortable at certain points where he was either lying or hiding the truth. Sinclair presumed that if he was really Secretary of State at all, he had been appointed for a reason other than his negotiation experience. "True. And the only way to get the things he's holding back is to go meet his people."
Garibaldi grunted, unwilling to accept the reason, even though he knew it was true. "Self-preservation instinct of a gnat," he muttered as he flopped into his office chair.
Sinclair was amused, but he left it alone. He leaned across the desk, unable to hold back his own enthusiasm for this new project, "These people used to live inside Vorlon space. Doesn't that make you the least bit curious?"
"No," Garibaldi said. "It makes me suspicious."
Sinclair chuckled. "And that's why you're security, and I'm not. But I still have to go."
"And I'm going with you."
Grimacing, Sinclair realized he should have seen that one coming. "Garibaldi--"
"You think I'm letting you go off on your own again?" Garibaldi demanded. "You manage to get into trouble in your own quarters, and you want to go off to this fleet on the word of five total strangers?"
Sinclair hesitated to find the right words. Garibaldi meant well and he was right, in terms of Sinclair's personal security, but he was missing the big picture. "Michael, if these people are who and what they claim to be, then I'll be perfectly safe. If they're liars, and they mean harm, one more body with me isn't going to make a difference. But if Babylon Five is attacked, the station needs you here."
Garibaldi snorted. "If the station's attacked, it needs you more than me. So that is not going to wash, Commander. Somebody has to be with you to watch your back." His gaze held Sinclair's and his voice fell to a low murmur, "You can't take on everything alone, Jeff. You promised."
Sinclair nodded once, reluctant. It went against the grain, asking someone else to share in his risk. But a second set of eyes would be useful, especially if he was stuck negotiating and playing politics. Garibaldi could get to know more ordinary people -- plus, he had the galaxy's most finely tuned bullshit detector. "All right. Tomorrow morning you come with me."
Garibaldi leaned back, now satisfied. "Good. I'll let our guests know. Two of them should stay here."
"Hostages?" Sinclair asked, inwardly squirming with distaste, but nodded. "Yes. They'll expect that, I'm sure. They can pick which two. By the time they're done at Medlab, Ivanova will have some quarters for them. They shouldn't stay in here, if we're trying to be friendly."
"But keep them under watch," Garibaldi said, not quite as a question.
"Of course," he answered. He was about to leave when Garibaldi spoke again.
"I meant to ask before, how'd the meeting with Kosh go?"
The reminder was like a thin needle of ice shooting straight through him, and he heard Kosh's voice again. Destiny. There was no such thing as destiny. He shook his head once and shrugged his shoulders, trying to work out some of the sudden tension. "Well, you know Kosh. Hardly gives a straight answer to anything."
Garibaldi's sharp blue eyes were fixed on him. "And?"
"And... I don't know. He was very cryptic. But...," he stopped and had to finish more quietly, after a quick glance to make sure they were alone, "if he was right, Michael, we're going to be facing something bad. Soon."
"About the visitors?" Garibaldi asked.
"I don't think so, but maybe connected to them." He gave a rueful smile. "Why would he want to give us a straight answer that might be actually useful?"
Garibaldi gave a snort. "Yeah. Well, don't let him get to you. We don't need him to tell us there's something bad coming down the pipe, do we? Because there is always something bad coming."
He chuckled wryly, and couldn't disagree. "And on that cheery note, I'm going back to my office to start my report for Earth Dome."
On his way back toward CIC as he was passing through the Zocalo, a familiar voice bellowed, "Commander Sinclair!"
He stopped, took a breath, and turned to face Ambassador G'Kar. "Ambassador. Good evening. What can I do for you?"
The Narn ambassador approached with a friendly expression that immediately put Sinclair on alert. G'Kar was personable and usually reasonable, except where anything touched on the Centauri, but his jovial moods usually meant he wanted something. "These new visitors," he explained eagerly. "I've heard they are a long lost Earth colony. Is it true?"
"It appears to be. They're in Medlab right now, so we can verify it," he said, wishing he had access to the Narn gossip machine. How did G'Kar find out these things so quickly?
"How very exciting for you," G'Kar said, sounding sincere. "How long have they been gone? And who took them from Earth?"
"We don't know yet. It was a long time ago, I suspect."
"So mysterious, how they appeared out of nothing, isn't it, Commander?" G'Kar asked. "And how they had Quantium-40 in their engine, even though the ship is too small to jump to hyperspace by itself. At least through any technology we know about."
Sinclair kept his face blank. He'd expected the other ships to notice the Raptor appear and wonder about its technology, but he hadn't planned on anyone scanning that small amount of Quantium-40 the Raptor had in its engines. But Quantium-40 was very rare and valuable, precisely because it was the only substance capable of powering a jump point into hyperspace. "We don't know that's what they're doing, Ambassador. But yes, it's certainly very intriguing."
Unblinking red eyes looked into his, and G'Kar's amiability dropped away. "This isn't a threat, Commander. But I would be very careful, if I were you. We are not the only power in the galaxy very curious about that technology." He gave a short bow of his head and moved off, leaving Sinclair feeling very troubled.
Because G'Kar was right. A ship that small actually being able to make a jump to hyperspace represented a leap of technology and tactical advantage that even the Minbari didn't have. Everyone was going to want it for themselves. And Earth Alliance was not going to want to share.
He made it to the office without being stopped again and stared at his dark computer screen for awhile, wondering why he had ever accepted this job in the first place.
===================
Kara hopped off the bed, as the anxiety that had knotted itself beneath the bottom of her ribcage finally relaxed.
Doctor Franklin smiled at her. "See? Was that so bad?"
"No," she admitted, though a bit ruefully, since she'd thought she'd covered her concern. But the doctor had very kind eyes and he definitely had a friendlier way about him than Cottle. And despite a similar skin color, he looked very little like the Cylon on Caprica, which helped. The exam had consisted mostly of having a piece of equipment with flashy lights slide over her body. The most invasive thing had been the blood sample, and even that had barely hurt.
"You're up last," Franklin looked at Sam.
"C'mon, fearless leader," she nudged him with her elbow. "Your turn."
Sam stretched out on the bed and the doctor ran the flashing light scanner over him. Franklin frowned a little, and ran it over Sam again. "Doctor?" Sam asked, puzzled by the extra attention.
"You're very fit," Franklin said. "Athlete?"
"Professional pyramid player," Sam answered, and grimaced before adding, "in my former life."
"For a team that sucked," Kara couldn't help adding, and smirked when he and Jean both glared at her.
Franklin nodded, ignoring her comment. "That explains it. But you've got some scarring in your lungs. I would guess you had a pretty serious lung infection."
"Yeah," Jean answered for him when he didn't. "He was in bed a month. We thought he might die."
"Barolay," he chided. "I got better."
Kara frowned at him. Nobody had said he had been that sick on New Caprica.
"You're going to have to watch that the rest of your life, probably," Franklin said, pulling him upright and drawing the blood sample from his arm. "You may be prone to further infection. And you definitely shouldn't smoke. That's cutting your lung capacity even more."
"Frakking told you," Jean muttered at him. "Idiot. No wonder you get winded after a half game."
"I do not," he was starting to sound cranky and Kara put a hand on his knee to distract him..
She looked at the doctor, who handed Sam's sample to the medical technician. "So? Do we pass?"
"So far as I can tell, you're all human," Franklin answered with a smile.
"Oh thank the Gods," Costanza said with a dramatic breath of relief.
Kara wondered what the result would be if Sharon had been in the group. Was their technology advanced enough to pick out a Cylon? The station seemed a bit primitive compared to the fleet, with its lack of integrated gravity, but there were machines in this room whose function she couldn't even guess.
Her musings were cut short by a sound of someone entering the main doors and a female voice, "So, Doctor, have you finished with them?"
Kara turned to see a female officer, wearing a blue uniform. Her hair was long but pulled back tightly from her face, and she gave off a distinct vibe of competence and stern professionalism. One by one, she looked at the five new arrivals, and when she looked at Kara she nodded a little, perhaps recognizing a fellow officer.
Doctor Franklin smiled and introduced as she approached, "Lieutenant Commander Susan Ivanova, the XO of the station. They're all yours."
"And?" Ivanova asked.
"Human," Franklin confirmed for her. "I'll run their DNA. It should give us a clue about how long they've been away."
Ivanova's straight posture relaxed slightly and she smiled a little, pleased. "Good. The commander will be glad to hear that. When I left him, he was holding for President Santiago."
"I'd better link in and give him my report so he can pass it on," Franklin walked apart a little ways and lifted the back of his hand to his mouth.
Ivanova turned to them. "We've found you some quarters for tonight. The commander told me you'll be taking him to your fleet tomorrow?" she asked.
Sam nodded. "He wanted to go."
Her lips flattened. "Well, Commander Sinclair is a little more adventurous than the rest of us really like, sometimes," she said. "I hope you appreciate the risk he's taking."
"I do," Sam answered, sounding very serious. "We do. All I can tell you is that we're here looking for help. Not to hurt anybody."
She met his gaze for a moment and then gave a little breath of resignation. "I hope so. Chief Garibaldi will go with the commander, and in exchange, two of your group will have to stay here as a guarantee of their return. You can pick which ones stay."
Sam turned his head to exchange a quick look with her, and she gave a small shrug in answer. It sounded like a reasonable arrangement to her. He looked back to Ivanova with a nod. "We'll discuss it tonight."
"That's fine. Follow me."
Outside the medlab, two gray-uniformed and armed security officers joined the group, following behind. Kara told herself that she shouldn't be annoyed by it, since it was no more than the commander was going to get on Galactica. But soon, she realized that their presence at her back was reassuring as they passed out of the human-controlled area and into the open section of the station.
Ivanova led them through a shopping and entertainment area called the Zocalo. It reminded her of the old agora in Caprica City, with booths selling everything from food to jewelry. But she didn't pay much attention after awhile -- it was all she could do to not stare in gap-mouthed astonishment at all the different non-humans wandering around freely. Her hands twitched, seeking the familiar comfort of her sidearm.
Every one else on the team seemed to be handling it better. Hot Dog looked awed and kept wandering away to look at things or stop to stare, until Barolay appointed herself his shepherd and kept him with the others. Gaeta's interest was less obvious, but she knew him well enough to see the curiosity. Sam had on what she called his pyramid-face, so it was hard to tell what he thought, but he didn't seem to want to reach for a gun.
They passed a particularly weird looking alien haggling with a merchant -- at first she thought it had a head like a bug's with great big black eyes and a long snout, but then realized the alien was wearing a space suit and the snout was its breathing apparatus.
She looked away hoping to see something more familiar, and only realized she'd moved closer to Sam when her hip nudged him. He glanced down at her and smiled, "Hey, you."
She could hardly say that she was feeling a bit disturbed by all the aliens, so she nudged him again in reply and asked, "Lieutenant Commander, just how many aliens are there here?"
Ivanova paused and frowned thoughtfully "Different races you mean? Let's see, there's the big four, Minbari, Centauri, Narn and Vorlon, who are part of the Advisory Council. There are fifteen representatives of the League of Non-Aligned worlds, and probably twice that many unaffiliated travelers..." she thought aloud, then shrugged. "About fifty, I'd guess."
"Fifty?" Costanza blurted, sounding like he was about to have heart-failure in shock. "There are fifty alien races?"
Kara was glad he'd made an idiot of himself so she didn't.
Ivanova chuckled. "Oh, I think the tally is well over a hundred, by now. But many of them don't come here." She glanced at their faces and frowned a little, "I didn't believe that you're a lost colony, but you are, aren't you? This is your first contact with non-human races." She didn't let them anyone say anything, advising, "Don't worry; you'll soon find out that they're like people you know: a few are nice, most are backstabbing thieves out for themselves, and some will annoy you just by existing."
Kara chuckled, suddenly feeling a lot more at ease at the strangeness around her. Ivanova left the Zocalo and entered a lift, the rest of the group following her in, including secutrity which made the small space rather packed.
Ivanova had to put a passcard key into the lift to open the doors on the right level, but when Kara stepped out, she saw only a corridor like several she'd already seen.
"This is Green sector," Ivanova told them, "it's an area set aside for the diplomatic staff of the various visitors and representatives we have here. You're humans, but you are a foreign diplomatic mission, so I thought you'd do better here." One of the doors along the corridor swung upward out of the way, when she put her card into the reader. "It's very plain - usually the ambassadors decorate and furnish the rooms to their own taste."
The room was large by Galactica standards - with a kitchenette area in the corner, a seating area, and two open doorways that led to bedrooms and presumably head facilities. The walls were gray and blank and the very basic furniture was simple in neutral beige and black. The only color was a picture on the wall of a swirling purple and blue cloud of space gas.
Or, Kara thought it was a picture, until Ivanova walked up to it and said, "Computer, activate." The image blanked to show the Babylon Five logo.
"This can give you some basic information about the station, the other races, and Earth Alliance, if you'd like," she explained. "It's also the communication station. If you need something you can contact station security. If you have clothes or bags from your ship, security can escort you to get them."
"So we're prisoners here?" Kara asked, more to see what Ivanova would say than because it was really in question.
Ivanova grimaced, but admitted, "Yes. For now, we'd prefer you didn't wander through the station."
"That's all right," Sam told her, "We understand."
"It's for your own safety as well as ours. There's been a lot of interest in your ship," she warned them. "It's a technology unknown to us and there are some people who will do just about anything for advantage."
Kara nodded, hearing the seriousness of the warning.
"Then that should help with finding a planet shouldn't it?" Gaeta asked. "We have something valuable to offer."
Ivanova answered wryly, "Oh yes, it always helps to get Earth Gov's attention if you have something valuable. Is there anything else I can do right now?" she asked. "Garibaldi will come get three of you in the morning for your trip."
"No, I think we're good. Thank you," Sam told her. She nodded once and left.
When the door quietly hissed shut behind her, all five of them sort of stared at one another.
Barolay was the first to say anything, her tone straining for sardonic, "At least the cell is bigger."
"This whole place is big," Costanza said. Kara didn't think he was talking about the room or even the station.
"Over a hundred alien races?" Gaeta murmured. "How did we never know about any of them?"
"From what Commander Sinclair said, the Colonies were being protected by the Vorlons," Sam explained. "Nobody else could get to us. Well, except ourselves," he added sourly, and strode over to the terminal. "Computer, what is a Vorlon?"
The screen flickered, changed to an image of a long mottled yellow object, that Kara thought at first was a Vorlon, until she realized that it was a vessel.
"A Vorlon is a non-human species," the computer said, "The Vorlon territory encompasses approximately three hundred thousand cubic light-years of space. They permit no visitors within that territory. Their technological level is the most advanced of the civilizations with which Earth Alliance has formal relations. The Vorlons utilize biological systems, of a scale and complexity unknown to any other space-faring species. It is suspected, but not confirmed that their vessels are also self-aware beings."
Kara felt a little cold at the mention of biological vessels, remembering the Raider innards and the blood. Cylons were biological as well. "What does a Vorlon look like?" she asked.
"Unknown."
"Unknown?" Sam repeated in confusion. "But Commander Sinclair talked to one. How can it be unknown?"
The computer answered calmly, "Vorlon Ambassador Kosh uses an encounter suit. The encounter suit may not be opened even by medical staff."
"That sounds paranoid," Barolay muttered. "They don't want anybody in their space or know what they look like."
"Anybody else get the feeling that we're some farmer from Aerilon dumped into the middle of Caprica City?" Costanza asked, sounding more amused or excited than disturbed by it.
"Nah," Kara said, with a snort, "didn't you hear? We've got tech they've never seen before. We can't be country bumpkins."
Sam turned away from the image of the alien ship on the screen. "We're not country bumpkins, but we are strangers in a galaxy where we know a whole lot less than we thought we did. We've gotta be careful. But first we better figure out who's staying here."
"I have to stay," Barolay said immediately, so Kara knew she'd been thinking about it already. "Anders has to go back to meet with Roslin, and the Raptor needs a pilot and ECO."
"I'll stay with you," Costanza offered eagerly.
Kara shared a glance with Sam and knew he was thinking the same thing she was -- Hot Dog could very well fumble them into a war, unless the aliens had a very high tolerance for eager puppies. "No. It should be me," she offered. "Or Gaeta. We're not exactly the frakking Secretary of State but we have some authority at least." She thought Felix might be the better choice, for all the reasons that she wasn't the leader of the delegation in the first place, but when Anders looked quizzically at Gaeta, he shrugged.
"Up to you. Captain Thrace has the rank," he said, very neutrally, not looking her way. "I'd like to stay; it's interesting."
Sam looked from Gaeta to her, and his gaze held none of its usual warmth, only a cool weighing of her skills and her weaknesses. For the first time, he was evaluating her like one of his team. "Shouldn't you pilot the Raptor?"
"Costanza can do it," she said.
"Thanks, Captain," he answered, all pleased, until she added, determined to nip the arrogance:
"It's easy enough to reverse the jump." Then she thought of another good reason for her to stay, "And better Gaeta should go with you, if the Fleet's had to jump."
Sam smiled. "All right. It's settled. We won't be gone long, anyway. The people here are going to get twitchy if we keep their commander."
Part 4
-
Rating: PG
Genre: Crossover of Battlestar Galactica and Babylon 5
Spoilers: Through Rapture, then goes AU. Set in Babylon 5 season one.
Characters: Background Sam/Kara but mostly gen adventure with Gaeta, Barolay, Hotdog, etc. Plus the crew of B5.
Summary: When Racetrack and Skulls discover Earth Station Babylon 5, everything changes for the Colonial Fleet. Sam, Kara, Gaeta, Barolay and Hotdog are sent to the station on a recon mission.
Note: Part 3 of my occasionally, infrequently updated crossover WIP. This part has been sitting under lock for quite a while (
lyssie, you already read this one), and I thought I might as well put it up for those who might like it. I make no promises that there will ever be more - sorry!Part One
Part Two
Part 3
Sam had no idea what dinner was, some sort of sauce over pasta with bread and a side of an unfamiliar vegetable. But he didn't care what it was. It wasn't reconstituted algae, and was possibly the best food Sam had eaten since the fall of Caprica. He was pleased to see the others eating with good appetite too, at least until Brendan and Jean grabbed the last piece of bread and threatened to tussle over it.
"Kids, share," he teased. "Let's not make our hosts think the colonies have no manners." Jean let go and Brendan ripped the piece and gave a half to her.
The door opened, and Sam glanced up to see Garibaldi. He beckoned Sam up. "You get your wish. The commander's on his way. Let's go."
Kara stood up with him, but Garibaldi fixed a look on her. "Just him."
She was looking balky, so he touched her hand, "I'll be back soon."
"You better," she threatened and sat back at the table to play with two forks rather ominously.
"Good luck," Gaeta wished him, and the others echoed it as Sam went out into the corridor.
They went down only a little ways, and through an open door into a room much smaller than the conference one his team was occupying. There was only a small table with four chairs, and a computer screen embedded in the wall.
There was a man standing before the screen, frowning at it, even though it was blank. He was wearing a blue uniform reminiscent of a Colonial Fleet one, and he was only a little shorter than Sam. His dark hair was starting to silver at the temples, and when he faced the door, his face was one comfortable with somber reflection, with deep-set but penetrating eyes beneath heavy brows.
Garibaldi introduced them, "Commander Jeffrey Sinclair, the CO of the station. And Samuel Anders."
To his surprise, Sinclair offered his hand. "I don't know if this is your custom --"
Sam took two steps closer to clasp his hand. "Yes, it is."
They shook hands and Sinclair sat in the nearest chair. "Have a seat, Mister Anders. We have a lot to talk about."
Sam took the seat across from Sinclair. For a long moment, Sinclair looked at him. Sam didn't quite know how to take the regard. He didn't seem hostile or fearful, but in spite of what he said, he didn't talk right away.
"We really are from the Twelve Colonies," Sam offered, knowing his words were no kind of proof.
"I believe you," Sinclair said, to Sam's astonishment. "I got confirmation of their existence from the Vorlons."
"Vorlons?" Sam asked, curiously.
"You don't know them? That's interesting, because they know you. They're a very ancient race. You indicated your colonies were inside their territory, and when I spoke to Ambassador Kosh he admitted it." Sinclair paused, as though to give Sam a chance to explain, but Sam was just confused. How could the Colonies be in some other people's space and the Colonies not know about aliens? He gave a shrug and shook his head a little.
"I don't know all the old histories or scriptures, but I'm pretty sure we don't know anything about them."
"The Vorlons are highly secretive and very advanced. Your people might not even know that they've been visited. Though Vorlon intervention might at least explain what humans were doing on planets a long way from Earth," Sinclair told him. Before Sam could start explaining about the Lords of Kobol, Sinclair shook his head once, shelving the topic, and continued briskly, "Well, I suppose this isn't exactly the time to unravel your history, though I have to admit I'm very curious. You have more urgent problems to discuss. I haven't given my report to Earth Dome yet, but I know my superiors are going to be interested in numbers. As in, how many refugees are there and how many ships?"
Relieved by the turn back to practical concerns, Sam answered, "About forty thousand, including children, spread out on less than one hundred ships of different sizes."
"And what happened to your Colonies?"
Sam was going to answer "Cylons", and then reconsidered. He remembered Jean saying how these people might not be too happy to know the fleet had brought them a new enemy. "We were attacked. We don't know why. But they came and nuked everything." He felt queasy at the reminder and wished he hadn't eaten so much. Anti-rad meds were almost as nausea-inducing as the radiation itself.
He continued, "Everyone who could escape, did, in little vacation boats and cargo ships, and even one prison ship. They all gathered together and jumped to hyperspace. That was almost three years ago -- we've been running, trying to survive ever since. And looking for Earth."
Sam looked at Sinclair steadily, hoping he didn't see the half-truth about the attacks. But until he had a better idea what Earth Alliance might do if they found out about the Cylons, he thought he'd better hold it back.
The commander nodded once, not taking his gaze from Sam. But he didn't call Sam a liar, so after a moment, Sam relaxed.
"It hardly seems adequate, but you have my sympathies," Sinclair said. "Ten years ago we faced our own invasion and the end of our people. We were..." he paused, and finished with a small grimace, "... lucky. It's a tragedy that you weren't."
"Invasion?" Sam asked, his stomach clenching in sudden anxiety. What if the Cylons were already here? "Earth was attacked?"
"The Minbari," Sinclair answered. He glanced away from Sam, who realized during the tale that it was something Sinclair had lived through. "First contact went very badly wrong. They took offense, and declared holy war on us. Their technological advantage was too great and they pushed us all the way back to Earth."
"And then?" Sam prompted, when Sinclair didn't seem inclined to finish.
"And then they stopped. No one's sure why. Maybe they made their point," Sinclair answered. He didn't sound as though he believed it. After a moment's hesitation, he added, with a flicker of a smile, "We get along much better today, thank God."
Sam couldn't help the reflexive stiffening at the singular deity. Cylons had a God; humans didn't. Sinclair caught it, flaring his eyebrows a trifle. "Something, Mister Anders?"
He dampened his lips. "We, uh, have several gods. "God" sounds wrong to me."
"There are several religions of Earth with multiple deities," he assured Sam. "One of our founding tenets is freedom of worship. You are free to worship any deity or deities you choose in your own way. Or none at all, if you want." He eased back in his chair with a rueful look. "I have to admit we learned some very hard lessons about tolerance over our history."
"Oh," Sam said, trying to process the concept of 'several' religions with their own gods. "I see. How many Humans are there in the Earth Alliance?" he asked.
"Eleven billion, give or take," Sinclair answered. "Most are still on Earth, but we have several colonies outside the system as well, particular the large settlements on Proxima and Orion. Don't worry; we'll find a place for your people," he reassured Sam.
Sam nodded, finding that he believed Sinclair. "I hope so," he said. "We've been looking for a new home for what seems like a very long time now."
"You'll get one," Sinclair said. "But first, I need all five of you to agree to a medical exam and a blood sample."
"To prove we're human?" Sam guessed.
"I believe you, but Earth Dome will need proof before beginning the process of resettlement. And after that, in the morning, I'd like to meet your president, and see your fleet for myself. I presume that Raptor of yours can take me there?"
"You'd go back with us?" Sam asked in surprise.
"Is there any reason I shouldn't?" Sinclair asked. Beneath the casual question was very sharp intent, and he watched Sam closely as he answered.
"No, no," Sam assured him. "Not at all. Well, it could be dangerous if the jump goes wrong," he corrected himself, "but Kara's a great pilot. There shouldn't be a problem. I know President Roslin is eager to meet people from Earth."
Sinclair smiled faintly. "Well, I was born on Mars, but I'll have to do, for now." He stood, and Sam followed his lead. "I'll do what I can for your people, Mister Anders."
They shook hands again. "I appreciate that."
The door opened as Sinclair approached, to reveal Garibaldi standing there. He frowned at his commander, but Sinclair spoke first, "Garibaldi, all five of them need to visit Doctor Franklin in Medlab."
"I heard," Garibaldi answered and waved up one of his men. "Sergeant Allan will escort you."
Another tall man about Sam's age, nodded politely. "Sir. This way." Two guards joined them and they went back down the corridor to the conference room.
Kara was on her feet when Sam came in. "So?" she demanded.
"I think we're good," he answered. "Come on, they want us to prove we're humans, and not some kind of aliens in disguise. So we're going to get a little poked and prodded by their doctor."
Jean chuckled once as she pushed herself up to her feet. "Remind me why I volunteered for this again?"
"To watch my back," he retorted. He noticed Kara hanging back and went to her. "What is it?" he murmured.
She stared right at his chest, not lifting her eyes. "Nothing," she muttered, and promptly contradicted herself. "I don't want some strange doctor around me."
He knew why too, but didn't say anything in front of the others. "They're going to take a little blood, that's all. Nobody's gonna make you do anything you don't want to, Kara. But we have to prove we're human or they won't help us. And then in the morning, we're going to take Commander Sinclair to the Fleet," he explained.
"Already?" she asked.
"It was his idea," he said with a little shrug. He took her hand and squeezed. "Come on. It'll be okay."
Brendan offered from the other side of the room, "They can't possibly have a doctor with a worse bedside-manner than Cottle, Captain."
"Considering how many times Doc Cottle's saved all our asses, let's have a little respect, Costanza," she rebuked him sharply, but then she was smiling as she thwacked Sam on the upper arm and started for the door. "You coming, Sammy?"
=================
"You love doing this to me, don't you?" Garibaldi complained, pacing after Sinclair. "Going off station to visit their fleet, when we know nothing about them? He could've been lying through his teeth the whole time."
Sinclair glanced at him sidelong, "Did you think he was?"
"Well, no. He's holding things back though."
Sinclair was relieved that Garibaldi's assessment matched his own. Anders seemed honest by nature, and he'd been uncomfortable at certain points where he was either lying or hiding the truth. Sinclair presumed that if he was really Secretary of State at all, he had been appointed for a reason other than his negotiation experience. "True. And the only way to get the things he's holding back is to go meet his people."
Garibaldi grunted, unwilling to accept the reason, even though he knew it was true. "Self-preservation instinct of a gnat," he muttered as he flopped into his office chair.
Sinclair was amused, but he left it alone. He leaned across the desk, unable to hold back his own enthusiasm for this new project, "These people used to live inside Vorlon space. Doesn't that make you the least bit curious?"
"No," Garibaldi said. "It makes me suspicious."
Sinclair chuckled. "And that's why you're security, and I'm not. But I still have to go."
"And I'm going with you."
Grimacing, Sinclair realized he should have seen that one coming. "Garibaldi--"
"You think I'm letting you go off on your own again?" Garibaldi demanded. "You manage to get into trouble in your own quarters, and you want to go off to this fleet on the word of five total strangers?"
Sinclair hesitated to find the right words. Garibaldi meant well and he was right, in terms of Sinclair's personal security, but he was missing the big picture. "Michael, if these people are who and what they claim to be, then I'll be perfectly safe. If they're liars, and they mean harm, one more body with me isn't going to make a difference. But if Babylon Five is attacked, the station needs you here."
Garibaldi snorted. "If the station's attacked, it needs you more than me. So that is not going to wash, Commander. Somebody has to be with you to watch your back." His gaze held Sinclair's and his voice fell to a low murmur, "You can't take on everything alone, Jeff. You promised."
Sinclair nodded once, reluctant. It went against the grain, asking someone else to share in his risk. But a second set of eyes would be useful, especially if he was stuck negotiating and playing politics. Garibaldi could get to know more ordinary people -- plus, he had the galaxy's most finely tuned bullshit detector. "All right. Tomorrow morning you come with me."
Garibaldi leaned back, now satisfied. "Good. I'll let our guests know. Two of them should stay here."
"Hostages?" Sinclair asked, inwardly squirming with distaste, but nodded. "Yes. They'll expect that, I'm sure. They can pick which two. By the time they're done at Medlab, Ivanova will have some quarters for them. They shouldn't stay in here, if we're trying to be friendly."
"But keep them under watch," Garibaldi said, not quite as a question.
"Of course," he answered. He was about to leave when Garibaldi spoke again.
"I meant to ask before, how'd the meeting with Kosh go?"
The reminder was like a thin needle of ice shooting straight through him, and he heard Kosh's voice again. Destiny. There was no such thing as destiny. He shook his head once and shrugged his shoulders, trying to work out some of the sudden tension. "Well, you know Kosh. Hardly gives a straight answer to anything."
Garibaldi's sharp blue eyes were fixed on him. "And?"
"And... I don't know. He was very cryptic. But...," he stopped and had to finish more quietly, after a quick glance to make sure they were alone, "if he was right, Michael, we're going to be facing something bad. Soon."
"About the visitors?" Garibaldi asked.
"I don't think so, but maybe connected to them." He gave a rueful smile. "Why would he want to give us a straight answer that might be actually useful?"
Garibaldi gave a snort. "Yeah. Well, don't let him get to you. We don't need him to tell us there's something bad coming down the pipe, do we? Because there is always something bad coming."
He chuckled wryly, and couldn't disagree. "And on that cheery note, I'm going back to my office to start my report for Earth Dome."
On his way back toward CIC as he was passing through the Zocalo, a familiar voice bellowed, "Commander Sinclair!"
He stopped, took a breath, and turned to face Ambassador G'Kar. "Ambassador. Good evening. What can I do for you?"
The Narn ambassador approached with a friendly expression that immediately put Sinclair on alert. G'Kar was personable and usually reasonable, except where anything touched on the Centauri, but his jovial moods usually meant he wanted something. "These new visitors," he explained eagerly. "I've heard they are a long lost Earth colony. Is it true?"
"It appears to be. They're in Medlab right now, so we can verify it," he said, wishing he had access to the Narn gossip machine. How did G'Kar find out these things so quickly?
"How very exciting for you," G'Kar said, sounding sincere. "How long have they been gone? And who took them from Earth?"
"We don't know yet. It was a long time ago, I suspect."
"So mysterious, how they appeared out of nothing, isn't it, Commander?" G'Kar asked. "And how they had Quantium-40 in their engine, even though the ship is too small to jump to hyperspace by itself. At least through any technology we know about."
Sinclair kept his face blank. He'd expected the other ships to notice the Raptor appear and wonder about its technology, but he hadn't planned on anyone scanning that small amount of Quantium-40 the Raptor had in its engines. But Quantium-40 was very rare and valuable, precisely because it was the only substance capable of powering a jump point into hyperspace. "We don't know that's what they're doing, Ambassador. But yes, it's certainly very intriguing."
Unblinking red eyes looked into his, and G'Kar's amiability dropped away. "This isn't a threat, Commander. But I would be very careful, if I were you. We are not the only power in the galaxy very curious about that technology." He gave a short bow of his head and moved off, leaving Sinclair feeling very troubled.
Because G'Kar was right. A ship that small actually being able to make a jump to hyperspace represented a leap of technology and tactical advantage that even the Minbari didn't have. Everyone was going to want it for themselves. And Earth Alliance was not going to want to share.
He made it to the office without being stopped again and stared at his dark computer screen for awhile, wondering why he had ever accepted this job in the first place.
===================
Kara hopped off the bed, as the anxiety that had knotted itself beneath the bottom of her ribcage finally relaxed.
Doctor Franklin smiled at her. "See? Was that so bad?"
"No," she admitted, though a bit ruefully, since she'd thought she'd covered her concern. But the doctor had very kind eyes and he definitely had a friendlier way about him than Cottle. And despite a similar skin color, he looked very little like the Cylon on Caprica, which helped. The exam had consisted mostly of having a piece of equipment with flashy lights slide over her body. The most invasive thing had been the blood sample, and even that had barely hurt.
"You're up last," Franklin looked at Sam.
"C'mon, fearless leader," she nudged him with her elbow. "Your turn."
Sam stretched out on the bed and the doctor ran the flashing light scanner over him. Franklin frowned a little, and ran it over Sam again. "Doctor?" Sam asked, puzzled by the extra attention.
"You're very fit," Franklin said. "Athlete?"
"Professional pyramid player," Sam answered, and grimaced before adding, "in my former life."
"For a team that sucked," Kara couldn't help adding, and smirked when he and Jean both glared at her.
Franklin nodded, ignoring her comment. "That explains it. But you've got some scarring in your lungs. I would guess you had a pretty serious lung infection."
"Yeah," Jean answered for him when he didn't. "He was in bed a month. We thought he might die."
"Barolay," he chided. "I got better."
Kara frowned at him. Nobody had said he had been that sick on New Caprica.
"You're going to have to watch that the rest of your life, probably," Franklin said, pulling him upright and drawing the blood sample from his arm. "You may be prone to further infection. And you definitely shouldn't smoke. That's cutting your lung capacity even more."
"Frakking told you," Jean muttered at him. "Idiot. No wonder you get winded after a half game."
"I do not," he was starting to sound cranky and Kara put a hand on his knee to distract him..
She looked at the doctor, who handed Sam's sample to the medical technician. "So? Do we pass?"
"So far as I can tell, you're all human," Franklin answered with a smile.
"Oh thank the Gods," Costanza said with a dramatic breath of relief.
Kara wondered what the result would be if Sharon had been in the group. Was their technology advanced enough to pick out a Cylon? The station seemed a bit primitive compared to the fleet, with its lack of integrated gravity, but there were machines in this room whose function she couldn't even guess.
Her musings were cut short by a sound of someone entering the main doors and a female voice, "So, Doctor, have you finished with them?"
Kara turned to see a female officer, wearing a blue uniform. Her hair was long but pulled back tightly from her face, and she gave off a distinct vibe of competence and stern professionalism. One by one, she looked at the five new arrivals, and when she looked at Kara she nodded a little, perhaps recognizing a fellow officer.
Doctor Franklin smiled and introduced as she approached, "Lieutenant Commander Susan Ivanova, the XO of the station. They're all yours."
"And?" Ivanova asked.
"Human," Franklin confirmed for her. "I'll run their DNA. It should give us a clue about how long they've been away."
Ivanova's straight posture relaxed slightly and she smiled a little, pleased. "Good. The commander will be glad to hear that. When I left him, he was holding for President Santiago."
"I'd better link in and give him my report so he can pass it on," Franklin walked apart a little ways and lifted the back of his hand to his mouth.
Ivanova turned to them. "We've found you some quarters for tonight. The commander told me you'll be taking him to your fleet tomorrow?" she asked.
Sam nodded. "He wanted to go."
Her lips flattened. "Well, Commander Sinclair is a little more adventurous than the rest of us really like, sometimes," she said. "I hope you appreciate the risk he's taking."
"I do," Sam answered, sounding very serious. "We do. All I can tell you is that we're here looking for help. Not to hurt anybody."
She met his gaze for a moment and then gave a little breath of resignation. "I hope so. Chief Garibaldi will go with the commander, and in exchange, two of your group will have to stay here as a guarantee of their return. You can pick which ones stay."
Sam turned his head to exchange a quick look with her, and she gave a small shrug in answer. It sounded like a reasonable arrangement to her. He looked back to Ivanova with a nod. "We'll discuss it tonight."
"That's fine. Follow me."
Outside the medlab, two gray-uniformed and armed security officers joined the group, following behind. Kara told herself that she shouldn't be annoyed by it, since it was no more than the commander was going to get on Galactica. But soon, she realized that their presence at her back was reassuring as they passed out of the human-controlled area and into the open section of the station.
Ivanova led them through a shopping and entertainment area called the Zocalo. It reminded her of the old agora in Caprica City, with booths selling everything from food to jewelry. But she didn't pay much attention after awhile -- it was all she could do to not stare in gap-mouthed astonishment at all the different non-humans wandering around freely. Her hands twitched, seeking the familiar comfort of her sidearm.
Every one else on the team seemed to be handling it better. Hot Dog looked awed and kept wandering away to look at things or stop to stare, until Barolay appointed herself his shepherd and kept him with the others. Gaeta's interest was less obvious, but she knew him well enough to see the curiosity. Sam had on what she called his pyramid-face, so it was hard to tell what he thought, but he didn't seem to want to reach for a gun.
They passed a particularly weird looking alien haggling with a merchant -- at first she thought it had a head like a bug's with great big black eyes and a long snout, but then realized the alien was wearing a space suit and the snout was its breathing apparatus.
She looked away hoping to see something more familiar, and only realized she'd moved closer to Sam when her hip nudged him. He glanced down at her and smiled, "Hey, you."
She could hardly say that she was feeling a bit disturbed by all the aliens, so she nudged him again in reply and asked, "Lieutenant Commander, just how many aliens are there here?"
Ivanova paused and frowned thoughtfully "Different races you mean? Let's see, there's the big four, Minbari, Centauri, Narn and Vorlon, who are part of the Advisory Council. There are fifteen representatives of the League of Non-Aligned worlds, and probably twice that many unaffiliated travelers..." she thought aloud, then shrugged. "About fifty, I'd guess."
"Fifty?" Costanza blurted, sounding like he was about to have heart-failure in shock. "There are fifty alien races?"
Kara was glad he'd made an idiot of himself so she didn't.
Ivanova chuckled. "Oh, I think the tally is well over a hundred, by now. But many of them don't come here." She glanced at their faces and frowned a little, "I didn't believe that you're a lost colony, but you are, aren't you? This is your first contact with non-human races." She didn't let them anyone say anything, advising, "Don't worry; you'll soon find out that they're like people you know: a few are nice, most are backstabbing thieves out for themselves, and some will annoy you just by existing."
Kara chuckled, suddenly feeling a lot more at ease at the strangeness around her. Ivanova left the Zocalo and entered a lift, the rest of the group following her in, including secutrity which made the small space rather packed.
Ivanova had to put a passcard key into the lift to open the doors on the right level, but when Kara stepped out, she saw only a corridor like several she'd already seen.
"This is Green sector," Ivanova told them, "it's an area set aside for the diplomatic staff of the various visitors and representatives we have here. You're humans, but you are a foreign diplomatic mission, so I thought you'd do better here." One of the doors along the corridor swung upward out of the way, when she put her card into the reader. "It's very plain - usually the ambassadors decorate and furnish the rooms to their own taste."
The room was large by Galactica standards - with a kitchenette area in the corner, a seating area, and two open doorways that led to bedrooms and presumably head facilities. The walls were gray and blank and the very basic furniture was simple in neutral beige and black. The only color was a picture on the wall of a swirling purple and blue cloud of space gas.
Or, Kara thought it was a picture, until Ivanova walked up to it and said, "Computer, activate." The image blanked to show the Babylon Five logo.
"This can give you some basic information about the station, the other races, and Earth Alliance, if you'd like," she explained. "It's also the communication station. If you need something you can contact station security. If you have clothes or bags from your ship, security can escort you to get them."
"So we're prisoners here?" Kara asked, more to see what Ivanova would say than because it was really in question.
Ivanova grimaced, but admitted, "Yes. For now, we'd prefer you didn't wander through the station."
"That's all right," Sam told her, "We understand."
"It's for your own safety as well as ours. There's been a lot of interest in your ship," she warned them. "It's a technology unknown to us and there are some people who will do just about anything for advantage."
Kara nodded, hearing the seriousness of the warning.
"Then that should help with finding a planet shouldn't it?" Gaeta asked. "We have something valuable to offer."
Ivanova answered wryly, "Oh yes, it always helps to get Earth Gov's attention if you have something valuable. Is there anything else I can do right now?" she asked. "Garibaldi will come get three of you in the morning for your trip."
"No, I think we're good. Thank you," Sam told her. She nodded once and left.
When the door quietly hissed shut behind her, all five of them sort of stared at one another.
Barolay was the first to say anything, her tone straining for sardonic, "At least the cell is bigger."
"This whole place is big," Costanza said. Kara didn't think he was talking about the room or even the station.
"Over a hundred alien races?" Gaeta murmured. "How did we never know about any of them?"
"From what Commander Sinclair said, the Colonies were being protected by the Vorlons," Sam explained. "Nobody else could get to us. Well, except ourselves," he added sourly, and strode over to the terminal. "Computer, what is a Vorlon?"
The screen flickered, changed to an image of a long mottled yellow object, that Kara thought at first was a Vorlon, until she realized that it was a vessel.
"A Vorlon is a non-human species," the computer said, "The Vorlon territory encompasses approximately three hundred thousand cubic light-years of space. They permit no visitors within that territory. Their technological level is the most advanced of the civilizations with which Earth Alliance has formal relations. The Vorlons utilize biological systems, of a scale and complexity unknown to any other space-faring species. It is suspected, but not confirmed that their vessels are also self-aware beings."
Kara felt a little cold at the mention of biological vessels, remembering the Raider innards and the blood. Cylons were biological as well. "What does a Vorlon look like?" she asked.
"Unknown."
"Unknown?" Sam repeated in confusion. "But Commander Sinclair talked to one. How can it be unknown?"
The computer answered calmly, "Vorlon Ambassador Kosh uses an encounter suit. The encounter suit may not be opened even by medical staff."
"That sounds paranoid," Barolay muttered. "They don't want anybody in their space or know what they look like."
"Anybody else get the feeling that we're some farmer from Aerilon dumped into the middle of Caprica City?" Costanza asked, sounding more amused or excited than disturbed by it.
"Nah," Kara said, with a snort, "didn't you hear? We've got tech they've never seen before. We can't be country bumpkins."
Sam turned away from the image of the alien ship on the screen. "We're not country bumpkins, but we are strangers in a galaxy where we know a whole lot less than we thought we did. We've gotta be careful. But first we better figure out who's staying here."
"I have to stay," Barolay said immediately, so Kara knew she'd been thinking about it already. "Anders has to go back to meet with Roslin, and the Raptor needs a pilot and ECO."
"I'll stay with you," Costanza offered eagerly.
Kara shared a glance with Sam and knew he was thinking the same thing she was -- Hot Dog could very well fumble them into a war, unless the aliens had a very high tolerance for eager puppies. "No. It should be me," she offered. "Or Gaeta. We're not exactly the frakking Secretary of State but we have some authority at least." She thought Felix might be the better choice, for all the reasons that she wasn't the leader of the delegation in the first place, but when Anders looked quizzically at Gaeta, he shrugged.
"Up to you. Captain Thrace has the rank," he said, very neutrally, not looking her way. "I'd like to stay; it's interesting."
Sam looked from Gaeta to her, and his gaze held none of its usual warmth, only a cool weighing of her skills and her weaknesses. For the first time, he was evaluating her like one of his team. "Shouldn't you pilot the Raptor?"
"Costanza can do it," she said.
"Thanks, Captain," he answered, all pleased, until she added, determined to nip the arrogance:
"It's easy enough to reverse the jump." Then she thought of another good reason for her to stay, "And better Gaeta should go with you, if the Fleet's had to jump."
Sam smiled. "All right. It's settled. We won't be gone long, anyway. The people here are going to get twitchy if we keep their commander."
Part 4
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