13-03-2004, 21:07
A wise man once said "There are only two constants in the universe: Death and taxes." An even wiser Vorlon once said "Don't forget what you already know." Words to live by.
I know, know right down to my bones that the Vorlons are gods. I should know. I've been living with them for much of my adult life, learning at their feet and serving them to the best of my abilities. In my universe, there is only one constant: The Vorlons. They've always been here, and I guess I thought they'd never go away.
Now... Well, I don't pay taxes, John Sheridan's cast some doubt on the whole "death" thing, and the Vorlons... They're gone, dissapeared beyond the rim. The Shadows and the Vorlons, virtual embodiments of Chaos and Order, both simply seemed to tire of their war for dominance and... Well, they haven't been seen since. The Vorlons, as always, were thorough. They took everything they could with them, leaving only that which was incomplete in its construction, or too badly damaged to make the trip... And us. Their faithful servants. What do you do when your world falls apart?
You rebuild it, that's what. You build a new, and better world, one that won't blow over in a strong wind. It's not easy, and it doesn't happen overnight, but you struggle against the darkness to bring back the light, and you persevere, no matter what the cost. I lead those who wish to see the return of our gods, a return to a world of wonders. Obviously, I am not a Vorlon. I am human - A telepath. Most of us are telepaths of one stripe or another, but not all. Some simply have skills our masters needed. I am human, but as I look around me, I see a veritable kaleidescope of races - Narn, Drazi, Minbari...
Whatever we were, we left it all behind to come here. Whatever associations we had, they died with our old life. Once, I was proud of my P5 certification. Half the people who try for that grade don't make it, and half of those burn out, or become vegetables. Now... If they could just see me now. I haven't worn my PsiCorps badge in ages. Honestly, I don't think I could tell you where it is, and to tell the truth, I don't care. The man who wore that badge, who whored out his powers to paranoid businessmen... He died a long, long time ago. I'm a completely different person now. My old name, my old job... They mean nothing. I am Kosh now.
We are all Kosh.
To be more specific, I am Kosh Anarak. It is my task to coordinate our efforts in rebuilding the mighty Vorlon Empire. I am the custodian of that Empire. It is I who shall protect it until the return of our masters - Our gods. I do not presume to take the title of Emperor. That throne is not for me, nor for any other mortal. I am but a Regent, one who rules until the rightful leader returns. Some day they shall return. It's just a matter of how, and when, and whether or not we will be ready when they do.
We will be ready. I will allow nothing less.
---
No response from the hijacked ship, Regent...
To an outsider, the bridge would seem eerily quiet, the crew going about their business without so much as a word. The combat screens were raised, and the weapons charged, but you wouldn't know it from the way they worked - Silently, and unhurried, as if it were every day someone hijacked one of their most powerful warships and held the crew for ransom. Ransom wasn't quite the word. They were more hostages than anything. They had what they wanted, and unless they were allowed to escape with it, they would kill a hostage every fifteen minutes.
Kosh Anarak took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He understood their demands. In truth, he understood far more than they wished. They couldn't hand over the prisoners - Not before they went to hyperspace. If they did, he could simply fire on the ship and destroy it, and there would be nothing they could possibly do about it. As long as they held his people hostage, they seemed certain they could dissuade him from firing. Anarak took another deep breath and let it out slowly. Contact the other vessel. Give me a voice channel.
Clearing his throat, he spoke aloud so that the communications system would pick up his words. "I am Kosh Anarak. Any response other than immediate surrender will result in your death." he intoned in his most official voice. "There will be no other warning."
Anarak took a deep breath and waited for their response, leaving the channel open. Clasping his hands behind his back to keep them from shaking, he counted down the minutes, and then gave the order he did not want to give - Aloud, so that the captives on the other bridge would hear it. They had a right to hear the order given... He owed them at least that much. "Tactical display."
Bursting into life before him, the holographic representation of the space around his ship showed the two Star Dreadnoughts in miniature, his in blue, the other in green - A friendly ship. Steeling himself against what he had to do, he gave the next order. "Target the other dreadnought." The green holographic dreadnought flashed once and turned red, Vorlon glyphs scrolling off the relevant information such as range and relative speed. Slowly, the little blue representation of his own dreadnought began to come about to face the other ship. "Charge the main cannon."
Anarak could imagine the process. He'd seen it time and again as his Vorlon masters went into battle with the dreaded Shadows. The four great booms that composed the main gun, each several hundred meters long, would light up. From their tips, angry yellow arcs of lethal energy would flash forth to meet in the center, the charge building up to fire, and holding until the order was given. Dubbed the "death ray" by the crews, in the absence of a better name, it was the warship's most powerful weapon, and indeed the most powerful weapon they yet possessed. Rotating slowly, the ship came about, the weapon coming to bear on the hijacked ship. Anarak only hesitated an instant.
"Fire."
On the tactical display, his dreadnought pulsed once. A line stretched between his ship and the other dreadnought. The little holographic ship flashed once and dissapeared. On the viewscreen, though... On the main viewer, they got to watch the destruction of a friendly ship in all its glory. The hellish energies of the main gun leapt across the void, stabbing deep into the other ship without mercy. Anarak stood there, transfixed by the sheer power, the sheer horrible beauty of the weapon in action. It was his duty. He had ordered the death of his comrades, and it was his duty to watch them die.
Coming in from slightly "above" the ship as it was, the death ray cored into the hull just below the portside dorsal boom of the main gun, boring through the Vorlon Bioarmour like it was tissue paper. Slicing aft diagonally, it sliced the boom clean off, several hundred meters of weapon floating free in space. The beam traveled aft, neatly bisecting the ship. As he watched, he could see compartment after compartment breached, watched as fires flared only to gutter out as their oxygen was vented off into space. Impossible as it was at this distance and this magnification, he swore he could see bodies falling free of the ship. Then suddenly, with a flash, the death ray struck the other ship's antimatter drive. The voracious reaction held closely in check within the powerful thrusters sprang loose to consume the ship, leaving nothing behind but wreckage and nightmares.
It took mere moments for the death ray to destroy the other ship, only seconds, in fact, but those few seconds felt more like an eternity to Anarak. Sitting heavily down in the command chair, he let its organic warmth enfold him, comforting him, and reminding him of what he fought to preserve. Of why those men had to die. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he gave the orders. Any survivors?
The scan took less time than it had taken to snuff the ship out of existance. No, Regent. No life signs.
Good. End tactical display. Responding to his mental command, the ship deactivated the display, the holograph winking out of existance in the blink of an eye. Power down the main gun. Make one final orbit of the moon to search for a possible base ship, or installation, and then take us to hyperspace. I wish to leave this place as soon as possible.
I know, know right down to my bones that the Vorlons are gods. I should know. I've been living with them for much of my adult life, learning at their feet and serving them to the best of my abilities. In my universe, there is only one constant: The Vorlons. They've always been here, and I guess I thought they'd never go away.
Now... Well, I don't pay taxes, John Sheridan's cast some doubt on the whole "death" thing, and the Vorlons... They're gone, dissapeared beyond the rim. The Shadows and the Vorlons, virtual embodiments of Chaos and Order, both simply seemed to tire of their war for dominance and... Well, they haven't been seen since. The Vorlons, as always, were thorough. They took everything they could with them, leaving only that which was incomplete in its construction, or too badly damaged to make the trip... And us. Their faithful servants. What do you do when your world falls apart?
You rebuild it, that's what. You build a new, and better world, one that won't blow over in a strong wind. It's not easy, and it doesn't happen overnight, but you struggle against the darkness to bring back the light, and you persevere, no matter what the cost. I lead those who wish to see the return of our gods, a return to a world of wonders. Obviously, I am not a Vorlon. I am human - A telepath. Most of us are telepaths of one stripe or another, but not all. Some simply have skills our masters needed. I am human, but as I look around me, I see a veritable kaleidescope of races - Narn, Drazi, Minbari...
Whatever we were, we left it all behind to come here. Whatever associations we had, they died with our old life. Once, I was proud of my P5 certification. Half the people who try for that grade don't make it, and half of those burn out, or become vegetables. Now... If they could just see me now. I haven't worn my PsiCorps badge in ages. Honestly, I don't think I could tell you where it is, and to tell the truth, I don't care. The man who wore that badge, who whored out his powers to paranoid businessmen... He died a long, long time ago. I'm a completely different person now. My old name, my old job... They mean nothing. I am Kosh now.
We are all Kosh.
To be more specific, I am Kosh Anarak. It is my task to coordinate our efforts in rebuilding the mighty Vorlon Empire. I am the custodian of that Empire. It is I who shall protect it until the return of our masters - Our gods. I do not presume to take the title of Emperor. That throne is not for me, nor for any other mortal. I am but a Regent, one who rules until the rightful leader returns. Some day they shall return. It's just a matter of how, and when, and whether or not we will be ready when they do.
We will be ready. I will allow nothing less.
---
No response from the hijacked ship, Regent...
To an outsider, the bridge would seem eerily quiet, the crew going about their business without so much as a word. The combat screens were raised, and the weapons charged, but you wouldn't know it from the way they worked - Silently, and unhurried, as if it were every day someone hijacked one of their most powerful warships and held the crew for ransom. Ransom wasn't quite the word. They were more hostages than anything. They had what they wanted, and unless they were allowed to escape with it, they would kill a hostage every fifteen minutes.
Kosh Anarak took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He understood their demands. In truth, he understood far more than they wished. They couldn't hand over the prisoners - Not before they went to hyperspace. If they did, he could simply fire on the ship and destroy it, and there would be nothing they could possibly do about it. As long as they held his people hostage, they seemed certain they could dissuade him from firing. Anarak took another deep breath and let it out slowly. Contact the other vessel. Give me a voice channel.
Clearing his throat, he spoke aloud so that the communications system would pick up his words. "I am Kosh Anarak. Any response other than immediate surrender will result in your death." he intoned in his most official voice. "There will be no other warning."
Anarak took a deep breath and waited for their response, leaving the channel open. Clasping his hands behind his back to keep them from shaking, he counted down the minutes, and then gave the order he did not want to give - Aloud, so that the captives on the other bridge would hear it. They had a right to hear the order given... He owed them at least that much. "Tactical display."
Bursting into life before him, the holographic representation of the space around his ship showed the two Star Dreadnoughts in miniature, his in blue, the other in green - A friendly ship. Steeling himself against what he had to do, he gave the next order. "Target the other dreadnought." The green holographic dreadnought flashed once and turned red, Vorlon glyphs scrolling off the relevant information such as range and relative speed. Slowly, the little blue representation of his own dreadnought began to come about to face the other ship. "Charge the main cannon."
Anarak could imagine the process. He'd seen it time and again as his Vorlon masters went into battle with the dreaded Shadows. The four great booms that composed the main gun, each several hundred meters long, would light up. From their tips, angry yellow arcs of lethal energy would flash forth to meet in the center, the charge building up to fire, and holding until the order was given. Dubbed the "death ray" by the crews, in the absence of a better name, it was the warship's most powerful weapon, and indeed the most powerful weapon they yet possessed. Rotating slowly, the ship came about, the weapon coming to bear on the hijacked ship. Anarak only hesitated an instant.
"Fire."
On the tactical display, his dreadnought pulsed once. A line stretched between his ship and the other dreadnought. The little holographic ship flashed once and dissapeared. On the viewscreen, though... On the main viewer, they got to watch the destruction of a friendly ship in all its glory. The hellish energies of the main gun leapt across the void, stabbing deep into the other ship without mercy. Anarak stood there, transfixed by the sheer power, the sheer horrible beauty of the weapon in action. It was his duty. He had ordered the death of his comrades, and it was his duty to watch them die.
Coming in from slightly "above" the ship as it was, the death ray cored into the hull just below the portside dorsal boom of the main gun, boring through the Vorlon Bioarmour like it was tissue paper. Slicing aft diagonally, it sliced the boom clean off, several hundred meters of weapon floating free in space. The beam traveled aft, neatly bisecting the ship. As he watched, he could see compartment after compartment breached, watched as fires flared only to gutter out as their oxygen was vented off into space. Impossible as it was at this distance and this magnification, he swore he could see bodies falling free of the ship. Then suddenly, with a flash, the death ray struck the other ship's antimatter drive. The voracious reaction held closely in check within the powerful thrusters sprang loose to consume the ship, leaving nothing behind but wreckage and nightmares.
It took mere moments for the death ray to destroy the other ship, only seconds, in fact, but those few seconds felt more like an eternity to Anarak. Sitting heavily down in the command chair, he let its organic warmth enfold him, comforting him, and reminding him of what he fought to preserve. Of why those men had to die. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he gave the orders. Any survivors?
The scan took less time than it had taken to snuff the ship out of existance. No, Regent. No life signs.
Good. End tactical display. Responding to his mental command, the ship deactivated the display, the holograph winking out of existance in the blink of an eye. Power down the main gun. Make one final orbit of the moon to search for a possible base ship, or installation, and then take us to hyperspace. I wish to leave this place as soon as possible.