The Pelethim - Part Three
by Chinook6

They arrived at Gravix IV without picking up any traces of Shadows on the sensors. Sinclair prayed that the Shadow ships they had encountered had not had the chance to relay any messages back to... wherever.

The plan was pretty simple now -- Melek would send down shuttles from the Sherati to pick up the scientists and engineers, along with whatever files they could carry. Sinclair and the White Star would simply sit back and wait, dependent on the Minbari warriors to carry out the mission. With luck, they would get everyone off the base and be gone before the Shadows showed up. The Shadows wouldn't even know the difference. At least that was the plan. But, not much had gone yet according to plan, and Sinclair wasn't counting on things to start going right this late in the game.

Melek sent down the first lift: three shuttles for the first fifteen evacuees. Sinclair had contacted the site chief and ordered him to muster all his people at the shuttle hangar. Then, as an added precaution, he had asked the chief to re-set the base warning system to allow only the Minbari shuttles silent entrance. Anything else entering the atmosphere would set off alarms which would be heard halfway across the continent.

The White Star and the Sherati retreated to positions near the horizon of the production design facility to wait, prepared to duck behind the planet if the Shadows arrived. It was the part of the plan that Sinclair didn't want to think about. If the Shadows came before the Sherati finished evacuating everyone, then the White Star and the Sherati would be unable to do a thing. To show their presence near this site would tip their hand -- and the Shadows would launch the war too soon, before the Army of Light was ready.

"First lift aboard. Shuttles departing for second lift." Melek's voice was clipped and dispassionate, as if he were commenting on the weather. Sinclair said nothing, gnawing at this forced inaction. The minutes wore on in silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Sinclair noticed Ebedd standing by Hanett's cockpit.

Hanett's eyes were closed, and her skin looked terribly pale. Ebedd touched her gingerly on the shoulder and whispered her name. Her eyes snapped open, and Ebedd quickly removed his hand. "Hanett, are you all right? You don't look well."

The warrior coughed and gave him a thin smile. "Of course I'm all right. Until they clear that collapsed passageway, I'm the only pilot you've got."

"I'll check the medkit," he whispered. "Maybe there's something for..." He cut his words off abruptly, seeing the look on her face.

"Ebedd, think about it," she muttered back to him. "You don't need your pilot on drugs."

The Ranger blanched. The fight had taken a heavy toll on Hanett, even if she refused to admit it. The neural link with the cockpit controls was difficult to maintain for extended periods of time. With Hanett's injuries, the link was draining her.

From across the bridge, Krieger spoke. "Jeff, the main corridor blockage has been partially breached. They've cut a hole large enough to pass an cutting torch through, so we can work at both ends."

Ebedd bent down and whispered, "I've got to go now."

Hanett nodded, then lifted her hand off the console and reached out to catch his fingers. She had taken off her gloves to work the sensitive controls; and Ebedd noticed that her hand was cold. He closed his hand over hers, trying to warm it.

She smiled wanly and let go of his hand, then watched him as he hurried off the bridge.

As Ebedd passed Sinclair, he met his eyes. Sinclair read all he needed to know. Hanett was probably not going to make it.

Casually, he stood up and wandered over to the communications console and began keying in a message to the warcruiser commander.

As if on cue, the viewscreen flashed on, Alyt Melek's face serious. "Second lift aboard. One shuttle departing for third and final lift. Message acknowledged." The warrior's stern features softened very slightly. "Thank you." The viewscreen went dark.

Again, there was nothing to do but wait. Sinclair paced as time passed in painful slowness. The only noise was the hiss of the torch and crackle of sparking metal in the corridor outside.

Mere moments after the shuttle touched down on the surface, the base warning system alarm sounded. The White Star lurched as Hanett moved it further behind the planet, blocking it from Shadow sensors. The Sherati followed suit, as together they abandoned the shuttle and its five remaining scientists. A dead silence fell over the bridge as the alarms faded out. The sensors bloomed with radioactive readings.

Sinclair ground his teeth in rage. For the White Star to pick up those kinds of readings, the Shadows must be using massive nukes. "Move us further out of range."

There was no response.

Krieger looked over at the warrior slumped in the cockpit. Her eyes were open in an unfocused stare, and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. The Ranger looked back over at Sinclair, then down to his console. "The corridor is now open, Entil'Zha."

The sound of voices and running footsteps confirmed the report. The medics and replacements reached the bridge and stopped short, stunned at the damage. Then, very quietly, the medics began to work. The other Rangers fell in where most needed, solemnly carrying the casualties off the bridge.

The new navigator rushed straight to the empty cockpit and began to reset the controls to his specifications. If he noticed the bloodstain on the armrest he made no comment. Smoothly, he moved the White Star further around the planet.

Ebedd came back onto the bridge, cutting torch in one hand, welder's mask in the other. A look of triumph shone on his grime-streaked face. Sinclair stood to block him, and the young Ranger almost ran into him.

"Pardon, Entil'Zha -- I cut through the blockage and..." Ebedd's words trailed off as he noticed the Minbari in Hanett's cockpit. He swallowed.

"I'm sorry, Ebedd." After years of leading men and women into battle, Sinclair still felt at a loss for words.

The worker stared at the cockpit for a moment, then dropped his eyes. He bowed, keeping his eyes lowered. "Entil'Zha." Then he turned and left the bridge.

* * * * * * *

Khelev had landed on Gravix IV and gotten his passengers aboard only seconds before the alarms sounded. Cursing under his breath, the warrior rocketed the shuttle out of the hangar, not waiting for the scientists to strap themselves in. Behind him, the hangar bloomed into flame. A spray of dirt and broken concrete, the fragmented remains of the flight line, rained down on his left. He veered sharply and plunged the shuttle into a twisting, dodging, low-level course toward the mountains, their only hope for survival. Their shields were down to a dangerously low level, and weren't going to hold out much longer.

Trees spontaneously flashed, then blackened, incinerated in seconds. An entire living complex simply disintegrated, its walls crystallizing under the pressure and crumbling into shards. Behind them, a hideous, oily cloud rose from the ground, its base flaring out to envelop the entire site. Stubbornly refusing to give in, Khelev wrestled the ungainly little craft into a tight bank and shot straight for the rocks ahead.

He managed to squeeze the boxy shuttle through a narrow, rocky pass just in time to avoid the massive fireball -- but the resulting electromagnetic pulse wiped his shuttle's circuitry, leaving him with a skidding, bucking mass of metal driven only by inertia. Through brute strength, Khelev fought the shuttle down and plowed it to a grinding halt inside a deep, low overhang at the base of the mountain. He collapsed over the controls, exhausted, as the backblast screamed far overhead; then everything fell silent. This location had protected them from the worst effects of the blast, but also served as a natural conduit to collect the radioactive dust that soon began to blow around them in deadly eddies.

Grey ash fell in clumps from the leaden sky. The Shadows had destroyed not only the production facility but everything in a 10-hectare radius out from it as well. Khelev groaned and struggled out of his seat, then staggered into the aft compartment to check on his passengers. Thankfully, they all seemed to be alive, at least for the moment. The radiation readings in the shuttle were going off the scale, though. If he didn't get everyone into rad suits, he'd lose them all within an hour.

Fighting back nausea, they wrestled their way into the white protective oversuits and helmets, then strapped on the oxygen tanks. The exertion was too much for most of the passengers, scientists who spent their sedentary lives moving no further than a few meters from their desks in a given day. One of the engineers was still standing after getting his rad suit on, so Khelev left him in charge, then cracked the seal on the emergency hatch and slid down the smooth side of the shuttle.

His feet sent up clouds of clingy grey dust that spiraled up and covered his faceplate. Grimacing, he wiped his arm across his helmet to clear his view. Not that there was much to look at...

The shuttle was wedged under a rock ledge, its starboard quarter panel sheared off, exposing a plasma conduit that showed definite signs of stress. It could rupture at any moment. The pilot quickly moved away from the damaged shuttle and surveyed the area.

Across the pass was a clear spot that seemed to have almost no collection of the radioactive dust. Khelev keyed his internal mike. "Exit the shuttle now. We're moving to a safer location." There was no answer. He keyed the mike again, then strode through the blowing dust back to the wrecked shuttle and banged on the hatch. It opened with a creak, and the engineer's helmet emerged.

"Get them all out of the shuttle now!" Khelev was yelling at the top of his lungs. Exasperated, he realized that no one could hear him. They were all deaf inside the rad suits. None of the communications equipment worked anymore. The warrior made hand and arm signals; and finally the engineer seemed to understand. The helmet disappeared back inside the hatch. A few seconds later, a different helmet emerged, and the passengers began sliding out into the dust storm.

* * * * * * *

The mood on the White Star was subdued. Sinclair knew they had accomplished their mission -- by his count, all but one of the shuttle runs had made it. 30 of the 35 scientists and engineers were safely onboard the Sherati, along with all of the vital records. It was a safe bet the Shadows had no idea that their attack plans had been compromised. And the loss to Sinclair and Melek was comparatively light -- three scouts, a dozen fighters, five Rangers, and a shuttle load of evacuees. Twenty-six lives lost now in exchange for the hope of victory in the future... Still, it was a stiff price to pay.

"Entil'Zha!"

The voice broke Sinclair's reverie.

"Entil'Zha, I'm picking up strange readings from the planet. They're coming from an area on the outskirts of the production design facility. It's difficult to tell -- but it looks like someone is alive down there!"

"Open a channel to the Sherati."

The viewscreen came up, showing Melek's rather surprised face. "Sinclair -- I was just about to hail you. Did you get the life readings from the planet?"

"Yes. Our instruments are having a hard time getting through the residual static from the attack; but there's a chance that someone survived."

The Alyt nodded gravely. "I'm sending down a team to investigate." Almost as soon as he finished speaking, the viewscreen went blank. Minbari warriors were not known for exchanging lingering social pleasantries.

Again, there was nothing to do but wait. Sinclair made a mental note: all White Star ships built in phase two would be large enough to accommodate fighters and shuttles.

* * * * * * *

Ebedd walked quietly into sickbay. They had left Hanett in a side room that now served as a makeshift morgue. The young warrior was laid out on a table up against the far wall, her face and shoulder pressed awkwardly into the wall as if she had been dropped.

Ebedd winced. Slowly, he approached the table and set down his torch and mask. With gentle hands, he straightened her out and arranged her limbs neatly. Then, on a second thought, he took one of her hands and set it down touching the wall. It was sentimental of him, but he remembered how she had liked the feel of the living ship.

The medics were too busy attending to the wounded to help him, so Ebedd gathered up some supplies and went back into the cold side room. Gently, he cleaned the blood off her face, then began to change her sodden bandages. When the warriors came for her body, she would be presentable, at least.

The last bandage was giving him trouble. She'd bled on the knots, and now he couldn't untie them. Frustrated, Ebedd drew his knife and cut them open, then carefully peeled back the old bandage and replaced it with a fresh one.

Finished, he smoothed a wrinkle from her uniform. He really had no reason to stay with her any more -- Entil'Zha would need him back at his station. Ebedd reached down for his knife and started to tuck it back into his belt. Then, on impulse, he laid it under Hanett's nose. Almost imperceptibly, the blade clouded.

His heart pounding, he picked her up and carried her into sickbay, plowing his way past protesting Rangers and laying Hanett's still form on an examination table. He grabbed the nearest medic and hauled him bodily over to the table. "She's still alive -- help her."

"She's too far gone, Ebedd! We've got injured Rangers here who..." The medic's voice faded. He began to back away from the worker in an irrational but genuine sense of fear. 28 cycles of farm labor had made Ebedd no small Minbari.

"I'll see what I can do."

* * * * * * *

They were nearing their link-up point with the transport ship that would take the evacuees to their new research production facility. Through what Sinclair could only attribute to the grace of God, Khelev and four of his five passengers had survived. Three of them had already been moved out of intensive care, and the rest were making good progress. The Sherati's surgeon had assured Sinclair that they would all recover.

Ahead of them, a jump vortex bloomed, and the fluid lines of a Vorlon ship emerged. The sleek ship seemed to ripple slightly, and a graceful, elongated transport craft emerged, heading for the Sherati. The evacuees were going to ride in style this time.

Hanett was not really recovered enough to be walking; but no one in sickbay felt like arguing the point with her. Slowly, she made her way down the hallway to the bay, where her flyer would be waiting. Ebedd walked with her, not attempting to assist her, but just being there. About a third of the way down the hall, she stopped and leaned against the wall.

Ebedd smiled at the expression on her face. "What do you hear, Hanett?"

"It's singing. The entire time I was in that room, when they thought I was dead, the ship sang to me." She pulled him nearer, her smile broadening as she caught sight of his knife tucked securely in his belt. "Can you hear it?"

He leaned his head against the wall. "No." He laughed. "For a warrior, you sure do take your time getting places." He offered her his arm, and this time she accepted it.

At the bay, Sinclair watched the two approach. They separated awkwardly when they noticed him. "Hanett, I've never had the chance to thank you for all you did for us."

She inclined her head in a slight smile. "The honor was mine. Now, may I have my weapons back?"

"Of course." Sinclair produced a small bundle and handed it over, then watched as Hanett unwrapped it and inspected the contents. He decided to make an early exit. "I've got to get back to the bridge now. Ebedd, can you see her off?"

"Yes, Entil'Zha." The Ranger bowed. To Sinclair's surprise, the warrior set the bundle down and saluted him.

Together, they watched the human as he left. Then Ebedd reached down to retrieve her weapons.

Hanett slipped the denn'bok into her belt and one of the knives into her boot. The second knife was more ornate, with a fine blade and an inlaid grip. She looked at it for a moment, then flipped it in her hand, catching it lightly by the blade. Almost shyly, she offered it hilt-first to Ebedd. "I'd like you to have this."

He took it, running his finger over the clan device set into the handle. It was exquisite workmanship, and very old. Ebedd looked at her helplessly. "But I have nothing to give you in return that can match this, Hanett. This must have been in your family for generations."

The warrior laughed and flipped back her cloak to show him the plain, sturdy knife of a worker tucked into her belt. "An even trade, Ebedd -- just hang onto that knife better than you kept this one!"

The Ranger glanced down in chagrin at his empty belt.

"You know what they say -- it's dangerous to get too close to a warrior."

Ebedd held her gaze for a moment, then slipped her gift into his belt. "I'll take my chances." He stepped closer and reached out to trace his scarred finger down her cheek.

This time he kissed her it was quite intentional. She reached out and lightly touched his hand, then turned and walked to the waiting flyer.

 

End



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