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Rangers Redux (fiction)

We begin a new chapter today. I wrote a page-worth last night, but then my computer crashed and AutoRecovery decided not to work. Salvage efforts underway...

Anybody got three extra hours I could borrow and tack onto my day? I'm just... drowning... in work! /forums/images/icons/frown.gif

ONE THOUSAND SAFE HARBOURS
---=---

The Drazi were seven hours late, and rather put out when they realized that their gaudy rented shuttle was five meters too big to fit in the Liandra's tiny vestigial shuttlebay. Martel had to be called, and Kitaro watched Tirk attempt to convince them to pull up near one of the Liandra's exterior airlocks so the Drazi could step through a hole with the diameter a few toxin-storage barrels.

Their entire conversation (if he could call it that; one Drazi was screaming at Tirk for being a 'young incompetent,' while Tirk was exersizing an entirely futile attempt to convince them that if they wanted to dock, they'd have to go EVA and cut off the decorative whorls) was so funny that Kitaro had to step outside to keep from committing the heinous sin of bursting into rabid laughter within earshot of the comline.

And that was how his commanding officer found him - doubled over, suffering from a large fit of the giggles.
 
I wonder if hours can be sent via e-mail?
Is there a special protocol for transfering them?
Something like, umm... TTP?

I must consult the technicians.
Or if technicians fail, ask the associates.
 
"I hope you're not finding Tirk's situation particularly funny," Martel said, stopping in front of the observation room door. "Would you rather be in there, staring down two angry Drazi academics?"

Immediately, Kitaro straightened, wiped the smile off his face, and stood at attention. "No, sir, it's just - well, I didn't think they actually meant that the shuttle was too fancy to fit in the shuttlebay, but then I saw it, and - "

Martel nodded. "Right," he said, with a tone of voice that said that he didn't believe a word of it. "Then, if you don't want to join in the fun, run up to the bridge and relieve Tafeek. Tell him to get down here before the Drazi come through."

Martel then dissappeared into the observation room. For the half-second the door was open, he caught a snippet of the conversation. Tearing a Narn patriot's heart out with engine pliers seemed like a far more civil thing than what was coming over the speakers.

Kitaro's heart sank into his left shoe. Go up and relieve Tafeek? Someone else could do it - I'm the communicator, here, I'm supposed to be up where the action is, doing the translation -

He sighed, pushing himself off the wall, putting one foot in front of the other in a halting effort to reach the bridge. Martel knew very well where he wanted to be, which was on the front line, running interference - in fact, one could construe that the captain had just given Kitaro a punishment for flagrant disrespect.

All of a sudden, he felt the embarrassment wash over him like a bad dream.

Kit, you're a stupid arse, he thought to himself. Hubris is not a good thing.

The Liandra was one of the more casual work environments in the Ranger fleet, he reminded himself. It wasn't, however, lax by any means.
 
I just read this entire topic, begining to end, and WOW! I'm glad to see the Rangers story continued. Good job Channe!
/forums/images/icons/cool.gif
 
Thanks, Mike G, for giving it a go! /forums/images/icons/smile.gif Ok, I admit it, everyone. I love having an audience... /forums/images/icons/grin.gif

-- -- --

If Kitaro had actually been with the welcoming party for the Drazi delegation - two minor scientists from a minor archaeological excavation school in Buluz - he would have probably reached for his weapon at the same time as everyone else.

The two Drazi stepped through the multi-purpose airlock. Squat and greenish like most of their brethren, they both suffered from the whitish fungus called skinflake, the disease particular to Drazi field academics and others who toiled in open spaces. It crusted at the edges of their scales, giving them a look not dissimilar to walking, sentient Christmas trees - a likeness that Sarah had sworn she'd never tell Tirk (for obvious reasons), or Malcolm (he was far too serious), or Firell (she was too alien, even for a Minbari) - but maybe Kit and David because she knew they'd get a kick out of it.

She tore herself away from planning a possible dinner conversation and convinced herself to pay attention.

Martel and Tafeek had just stepped forward to greet the emissaries when Malcolm noticed, out of the corner of his eye, the taller one shimmering around the edges in boxy pixellation - the telltale sign of a holosuit about to shut down. Within a split second, his right hand was reaching for his PPG. He opened his mouth to warn Martel, but the captain had already noticed.

By the time the holosuit skin dissappeared, Martel's denn'bok was at the deciever's throat, and three PPG's were aimed straight at her head and the head of her Drazi companion, who did absolutely nothing to help or hinder her.

Indeed, it was a "her," a human "her" to be particular about it, dressed in the uniform of an Anla'shok field operative. Throwing up her hands, she yelped in alarm.

"Stand down! Stand down!" she cried. "In the name of Valen!"

"Malcolm," Martel growled, indicating the intruder with a flick of his head. "Take her holosuit."

As Malcolm moved forward, the woman extended her wrist in compliance, eyeing the pike at her throat with considerable annoyance. "I'm a Ranger," she muttered loudly. "Third Intelligence Division, Drazi Freehold."

The captain regarded her dubiously. After a few seconds' consideration, he nodded, but kept his weapon high. "Credentials?"

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Jesus. Yeah." She reached for her back pocket, but Martel flipped his pike towards her hands, and wordlessly nodded to Sarah. The weapons officer stepped forward.

The woman looked ready to kill. "Front pocket." She lifted her hands in supplication. "Didn't they tell you I was coming?"

Sarah raised her eyebrows as she reached forward and retrieved the ID credentials stashed in the woman's vest pocket. She moved back, slipped the small chip into wall.

"Nuha Singh," she said, a moment later. "Third Intelligence Division, Drazi Freehold. She checks out."

The weapons dropped and the woman snatched her card back quickly. "This is Saroteg Vuk Ha Degzuz," she snapped, crossly. "He's a professor at the archaeology school in Buluz, and the Anla'shok main contact for the Buluz region. For the past four years I have been working with him in the guise of Meligramta Gubhz."

The elder Drazi nodded. In the corner, Tirk regarded him with what Sarah thought was disdain, but couldn't be sure.

Singh - a small, wiry woman with sharp eyes - turned her gaze to Martel. "I have your new orders, Captain," she said, reaching into a back pocket to retrieve and wield a sharp-looking Drazi utensil, which she promptly used to cut open a patch of flesh on her left arm. She reached inside the gash to retrieve a tiny blood-covered datacrystal, which she handed to a surprisingly stone-faced Martel.

"I'd appeciate it if I could see your healer now," she continued.
 
If you ever read a 3 page topic in one sitting, don't stand up too quickly. /forums/images/icons/laugh.gif
 
I was wondering last night (I watched the movie again on Wednesday) ... any thoughts about doing something about the raiders we saw at the beginning of the movie which started all of Martel's mess? They were quite well organized and obviousily had a lot of budget to have that many ships (I don't think we've seen that many raider ships in one area before, not even when the Drazi had hired some to attack an entire planet). Also it looked like they had better weaponary than most raiders (nothing fancy, just higher priced when purchased) but maybe it was just the cummulative number of shots against the ranger ship. Still, we know Martel and his crew did not take them out (at least not at this time) so are they still out there or have other rangers tracked them down? They might just be a highly organized group or they might be being funded by some outside government like the Drazi were doing. I'd enjoy seeing that these raiders were multi-racial; the old rangers were almost always Human (even if they worked with other races) but with the new Alliance I could see criminal elements spreading feelers for joint operations; hey, if the Minbari and Earthers can join to make a fleet, so can the crime lords of the Humans, Drazi, Narn, etc.

Okay, sorry ... just throwing out ideas. /forums/images/icons/smile.gif
 
Good thoughts, Loadhan!

I'd love to respond to this topic. I can't. No matter what I say, I will be giving away spoilers for the next episode.

You did, actually, guess one thing I was going to do with them... hmm, I might have to change that now, just in case you choose to send lawyers after me... /forums/images/icons/wink.gif

I can say this, however: we will see the raiders again.

Soon.
 
Heh, don't worry ... I won't send out any lawyers ... I don't want you to return by hitting me with a foam bat that says my mommy dresses me funny. /forums/images/icons/wink.gif
 
TRANSCRIPT: 4230.3049 database datacrystal origin drazeg-49394 encode dmartel/nsingh/mbridges/shoknali liandra staff C-DISCRETION SHIPONLY CONFIDENTIAL

...decode authorization?
confirmed...

(snipped; see below)
 
Hmm. I've discovered a few looming plotholes in my outline. I am going to fix them, rather than dissappoint you all with shoddy work (just because it's off the cuff doesn't mean it has to be bad.)

On the other hand, I would like to say that I predicted every plot twist before it happened on tonight's "Twilight Zone." Both halves...
 
The conference limped on arthritic words for three hours, moving forward like a three-legged dog dragging behind it a two-ton brick. Sindell, patient as he was, found himself bored; even the Gaim speech about putrefying Pak'ma'ra waste removal liners failed to engage even the Fortrait delegation, a cloud of nearly-microscopic fourteen-limbed creatures that moved, spoke, and thought as one (and, as Sindell recalled, had a particular fondness for bathroom humor). Casting a glance over at Entil'zha, Sindell saw that her human-like face betrayed an even greater boredom; she was tapping her stylus against the arm of the chair, attempting in her best diplomatic way to stay interested.

This communal airing of grievances, this bringing-of-suit against one's neighbor is not the Minbari way for a reason, he thought, searching in vain for something to keep his attention. But if the ISA wanted to -

The Fortrait, retreating to their encounter suits, gave way to two scrawny-looking humans in yellow jumpsuits. Almost belatedly, he recognized the IPX logo emblazoned on each delegate's breast pocket.

As they stepped up to speak, he leaned over to Delenn. "Entil'zha," he hissed. "What are they -"

"President Sheridan, honored members of the Council, Entil'zha Delenn, my neighbors - " the taller IPX delegate squawked, the translator clutched in one hand. The other man, stout and unfriendly, fiddled with his comrade's earpiece. "President Sheridan, we stand before the Council today to bring suit against the Anla'shok."

A murmur of consternation ran through the gathered delegates.

Overhead, watching from the security aerie, Rathenn tensed.
 
Curious... I like curious things. Thank you. /forums/images/icons/smile.gif

Sadly enough, I don't have even "Twilight Zone" to practise predicting storylines. Recently I find that I have too little time to watch television. Perhaps only news. I wish I could find something which would be interesting...

...at least equally interesting as your story, but I fail. Which is the reason for my failure, I cannot tell. Surely there must exist something interesting out there, in that generally void thing called the cathode ray tube. I probably just keep missing it.
 
I've been noticing a lot more hits on this thread lately, so here's the disclaimer for those of you just joining us.

This story is not planned. It has never been planned. And, unless JMS offers me a job writing Polaris, it probably will never be planned more than one day in advance (as I'm a journalist; no time, no time!). I'm just as surprised as you with what these guys do. That said, once something's down on paper, once something's canon, I'm going to try my best to stay true to the characters and to the story, even though everything in this thread I basically write off the cuff.

Do have a good time reading. And if something's really bad, do let me know.
 
I'm enjoying it, actually. /forums/images/icons/cool.gif

By the way, do you know that the link in your signature doesn't work? Unless I'm completely missing something and you don't want it to. /forums/images/icons/grin.gif
 
Ooh, I had no idea. It was working three days ago... thanks - I'll check it out.

I'm eliminating Tafeek from the mix - at least for now. Think of him as you would a character like Lyta. He was in the pilot, and he might be back... I mean, all he did was show up right above, and he feels like an unwelcome in-law...

-- -- --

Seconds later, Martel looked up from the datacrystal cupped lightly in his hand. His eyes met the newcomer's.

"Tirk," he said slowly, "take Ranger Singh to the infirmary. Malcolm and Sarah will see that Saroteg-va finds his way to our guest quarters and stays there."

The room was clear four seconds later. The female Ranger simply nodded and swept out the left hatch, the lumbering Drazi stockman right behind her; the elderly Drazi followed them with his own escort, saying nothing.

Cantrell shot her captain a venomous look as she left (this one, he'd last seen after she polished off ten Raiders in a row during a battle near Modal III. Never mind that it made him uncomfortable).

Yeah, I know. He reeks, Martel thought, wrinkling his nose now that he was free of the smell of Drazi skinrot, noting the rather quick onset of what resembled a mild migraine in the wake of the newcomers' withdrawl. Can't believe I let that happen. Can't control what I let on my own ship. Aw, hell.

A moment later, he felt the cold insistence of the datacrystal in his hand. Alone, he regarded it for a long moment.

"Mural, you bastard," he muttered.

He stalked out of the room and headed for his office.
 
After viewing the contents of the datacrystal, Martel let the healers have an extra ten minutes with Singh (and Tirk, who was, no doubt, glowering darkly at "Meligramta" from a corner) before he arrived, swept through the door, dismissed Firell's two staffers with a nod, and settled into the ring of darkness surrounding the work area.

Singh glared down at the bandage Firell had just finished applying. The light made the Ranger's olive-colored skin seem almost green, dry; almost as if she were in the process of molting her human facade in favor of the armor-like shield of Drazi skin.

She was bald, giving a face that would have normally been quite attractive a craggy, severe look. Of course, hair was a definite no-no to intel officers heading into territory not their own; it was bad enough that they had to keep their DNA off of terminals, forks, steering wheels, clothes, and other everyday things. Hair, dropping regularly from a head that wasn't supposed to have it, would be a deadly liability.

Martel cleared his throat.
 
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