shadowbloodmoon
First Post
It was the dawn of the Third Age of Mankind, ten years after the Earth-Minbari War. The Babylon Project was a dream given form. Its goal: to prevent another war by creating a place where humans and aliens could work out their differences peacefully. It's a port of call, home away from home for diplomats, hustlers, entrepreneurs and wanderers. Humans and aliens wrapped in two million, five hundred thousand tons of spinning metal .. all alone in the night. It can be a dangerous place, but it's our last, best hope for peace. This is the story of the last of the Babylon stations. The year is 2258. The name of the place is Babylon 5.
Babylon 5. The one place you thought you might never see. Now, you call it home. For reasons of your own, or reasons of those who hold power over you, you have come to live and work in this city in space. Though the signs are subtle, you can feel something changing in the air. With the recent skirmishes between Narn and Centauri forces far away from here, to strange aliens coming on board and causing quite a stir. It is now the middle of March in the Earth year 2258, and things have quieted down. For now...
Selise
Your eyes were opened to a new world of experiences the day you arrived on Babylon 5, from the issuing of your first identicard to discovering that not all of the people on this station work together in harmony, each day brought new learning and new questions to you. Today was no different. You spend almost a half a day exploring Brown sector, a place that most have abandoned hope for. You however, see something different. You feel that you bring hope to the downtrodden of this place, and for that, the less violent people of this place afford you a bit of respect. Never mind the fact that you are Minbari. In all your times down here, you have never seen a Minbari. Minbari take care of their own. In your mind, you ask yourself who will take of these people, if not you? Today, you are approached by a man that you have seen before a few times, you know him as a gambler of sorts, someone who has taken one too many risks in life. "Selise, please, I need your help," Ivan says in his heavy accent. From what you know of him, he hails from an Earth republic called Russia. "I have to get out of here, fast. There's been some guys down here looking for me, and I think they have been after you too."
David
The last time you stared at the stars was through the cockpit of the last freighter you were asked to pilot. Now, you simply look at them through the observation dome, wishing it was you behind the controls of one of those new Starfuries flying around the station. At least then you might feel more alive. In the last few weeks, jobs have dried up. Even though you helped evacuate the station as numerous aliens wanted to leave as fast as possible during the so-called 'Soul Hunter' incident, ever since they have returned, few people are willing to trust a pilot that does not work for them directly. That feeling changes however when you return to your rented quarters. Upon entering, you find you have a message waiting on BabCom.
The woman is beautiful, lightly tanned skin and sleek dark hair coming down to her shoulders. Her deep brown eyes sparkling with the blinking lights of the station's computer. It is her message that piques your interest more, however. "Mister McCall, my name is Alison. Alison Fernandez. I represent a group of individuals seeking unattached people like yourself to perform a task of utmost importance. Of the people we seek, a pilot is highly necessary to the success of this task. Your background and skills have shown us that you would be the perfect person for this position. You will be well compensated, if you are interested. If so, please reply to this message and I will send you the details. I hope to speak with you soon."A slight smile and she is gone, screen blanking.
Varn
Ah, the life of a nobleman. Lots of money, women and fame. Too bad that wasn't to be the life for you. Your house elders already had plans for you, none of which felt appealing. Until now that is. Your life as a doctor for Babylon 5 has brought you new understanding and a new purpose for your own personal ascension. Lately though, ever since that new Human doctor has shown up, your work has slowly dwindled. Even some of your more regular patients have started seeing this Doctor Franklin. There is still work though, though it seems lately, all you get is overflow from MedLab. Occasionally, you may get a call from them, asking about this or that some such.
Today however, you get an unexpected call. Relaxing in your quarters after an exhaustive night at the Dark Star, the BabCom chimes with an incoming message for you. The tag says it's from Vir Cotto, the bumbling assistant of none other than Ambassador Mollari. "Greetings, Doctor Janno. I have an important message for you from..." He pauses, his plump face visibly concerned. "From some mutual friends. It seems that there is a group of people on board this station looking for something in old Centauri territory. They claim it is a scientific expedition. We want you to check it out. Your skills as a doctor would give you the resources you need to fit in with their group, but we also need you to report back to us just what it is they found. You should be receiving a message from them shortly. Reply to them positively and we will help you any way we can. Oh yes, one more thing, don't mention this to anyone. It's very important."
Sure enough, after Vir disconnects, another message comes in, text only, telling you about an expedition in deep space looking for people of your talents and all that. The message states that message details will be sent if a positive reply is received.
Dobar
Every day is a battle, as it should be. However your battles consist of haggling with people over the cost of the 'toys' you build for them. Though automated robots are a dime a dozen, you feel that yours have an intrinsic value because they are hand built by you. Though your Drazi brothers would harass you for making this your life's work, instead of trying to fly fleet or march in the grand Drazi armies, you still feel that your aggressive nature is sated by the arguing over how much you should be compensated for your work.
This is what drives you over the edge when someone comes to your kiosk and causes trouble. The man is fairly large for a human. Easily bigger than you are, and his friends are no better. The man looks over some of the tiny machines you have available, and then breaks one. His apology seems empty, especially when another one is broken. Then he tells you that your work is shoddy and he wouldn't take one of these if he was paid. That's when he starts to break more of them. His friends only watch as your anger rises.
Geoff
It never was a peach job for you. Each day, escorting someone or another that has caused some sort of minor trouble here and there. To the holding cell, back out an hour later, just to be brought in again the next day. It became so much that every day became a blur of activity. All the same. You wondered why you even bothered to bring people in some times. Even going so far as to let minor transgressions slide. The others were doing it. Some were even taking credits to do it. You never stooped to that level, but the thought had crossed your mind. Today was just another day on the job.
The perp was basic enough, human, older man, smell of alcohol all over him. He apparently had one too many this time and decided it would be in his best interest to cause a ruckus about it. This didn't last long. You and your patrol partner stopped the fight before it really got started. Now you found yourself escorting the man to the already overpopulated cells. Your partner's link beeped. "Hey, Rogers. You got a minute?" Rogers looks at you, "You got this?" Barely waiting for your affirmative nod, he answers. "I'm on my way." You find yourself staring after him as he almost runs away from the boredom of escorting this.. wait a minute. The man you were taking away stands straight up, brushing himself off. He holds out a hand. "Sorry about the smell. Paul. Paul Ramirez. I had been sent here to find someone of your nature to bring with us. We know that you fought during the war and we need someone capable of fighting against the odds. If you're interested, we can secure you some time away from your duties here and we can compensate you for that time." His other hand produces a card. "Go here. All the details will be explained when you arrive." He then turns away, leaving you alone in the corridor.
Babylon 5. The one place you thought you might never see. Now, you call it home. For reasons of your own, or reasons of those who hold power over you, you have come to live and work in this city in space. Though the signs are subtle, you can feel something changing in the air. With the recent skirmishes between Narn and Centauri forces far away from here, to strange aliens coming on board and causing quite a stir. It is now the middle of March in the Earth year 2258, and things have quieted down. For now...
Selise
Your eyes were opened to a new world of experiences the day you arrived on Babylon 5, from the issuing of your first identicard to discovering that not all of the people on this station work together in harmony, each day brought new learning and new questions to you. Today was no different. You spend almost a half a day exploring Brown sector, a place that most have abandoned hope for. You however, see something different. You feel that you bring hope to the downtrodden of this place, and for that, the less violent people of this place afford you a bit of respect. Never mind the fact that you are Minbari. In all your times down here, you have never seen a Minbari. Minbari take care of their own. In your mind, you ask yourself who will take of these people, if not you? Today, you are approached by a man that you have seen before a few times, you know him as a gambler of sorts, someone who has taken one too many risks in life. "Selise, please, I need your help," Ivan says in his heavy accent. From what you know of him, he hails from an Earth republic called Russia. "I have to get out of here, fast. There's been some guys down here looking for me, and I think they have been after you too."
David
The last time you stared at the stars was through the cockpit of the last freighter you were asked to pilot. Now, you simply look at them through the observation dome, wishing it was you behind the controls of one of those new Starfuries flying around the station. At least then you might feel more alive. In the last few weeks, jobs have dried up. Even though you helped evacuate the station as numerous aliens wanted to leave as fast as possible during the so-called 'Soul Hunter' incident, ever since they have returned, few people are willing to trust a pilot that does not work for them directly. That feeling changes however when you return to your rented quarters. Upon entering, you find you have a message waiting on BabCom.
The woman is beautiful, lightly tanned skin and sleek dark hair coming down to her shoulders. Her deep brown eyes sparkling with the blinking lights of the station's computer. It is her message that piques your interest more, however. "Mister McCall, my name is Alison. Alison Fernandez. I represent a group of individuals seeking unattached people like yourself to perform a task of utmost importance. Of the people we seek, a pilot is highly necessary to the success of this task. Your background and skills have shown us that you would be the perfect person for this position. You will be well compensated, if you are interested. If so, please reply to this message and I will send you the details. I hope to speak with you soon."A slight smile and she is gone, screen blanking.
Varn
Ah, the life of a nobleman. Lots of money, women and fame. Too bad that wasn't to be the life for you. Your house elders already had plans for you, none of which felt appealing. Until now that is. Your life as a doctor for Babylon 5 has brought you new understanding and a new purpose for your own personal ascension. Lately though, ever since that new Human doctor has shown up, your work has slowly dwindled. Even some of your more regular patients have started seeing this Doctor Franklin. There is still work though, though it seems lately, all you get is overflow from MedLab. Occasionally, you may get a call from them, asking about this or that some such.
Today however, you get an unexpected call. Relaxing in your quarters after an exhaustive night at the Dark Star, the BabCom chimes with an incoming message for you. The tag says it's from Vir Cotto, the bumbling assistant of none other than Ambassador Mollari. "Greetings, Doctor Janno. I have an important message for you from..." He pauses, his plump face visibly concerned. "From some mutual friends. It seems that there is a group of people on board this station looking for something in old Centauri territory. They claim it is a scientific expedition. We want you to check it out. Your skills as a doctor would give you the resources you need to fit in with their group, but we also need you to report back to us just what it is they found. You should be receiving a message from them shortly. Reply to them positively and we will help you any way we can. Oh yes, one more thing, don't mention this to anyone. It's very important."
Sure enough, after Vir disconnects, another message comes in, text only, telling you about an expedition in deep space looking for people of your talents and all that. The message states that message details will be sent if a positive reply is received.
Dobar
Every day is a battle, as it should be. However your battles consist of haggling with people over the cost of the 'toys' you build for them. Though automated robots are a dime a dozen, you feel that yours have an intrinsic value because they are hand built by you. Though your Drazi brothers would harass you for making this your life's work, instead of trying to fly fleet or march in the grand Drazi armies, you still feel that your aggressive nature is sated by the arguing over how much you should be compensated for your work.
This is what drives you over the edge when someone comes to your kiosk and causes trouble. The man is fairly large for a human. Easily bigger than you are, and his friends are no better. The man looks over some of the tiny machines you have available, and then breaks one. His apology seems empty, especially when another one is broken. Then he tells you that your work is shoddy and he wouldn't take one of these if he was paid. That's when he starts to break more of them. His friends only watch as your anger rises.
Geoff
It never was a peach job for you. Each day, escorting someone or another that has caused some sort of minor trouble here and there. To the holding cell, back out an hour later, just to be brought in again the next day. It became so much that every day became a blur of activity. All the same. You wondered why you even bothered to bring people in some times. Even going so far as to let minor transgressions slide. The others were doing it. Some were even taking credits to do it. You never stooped to that level, but the thought had crossed your mind. Today was just another day on the job.
The perp was basic enough, human, older man, smell of alcohol all over him. He apparently had one too many this time and decided it would be in his best interest to cause a ruckus about it. This didn't last long. You and your patrol partner stopped the fight before it really got started. Now you found yourself escorting the man to the already overpopulated cells. Your partner's link beeped. "Hey, Rogers. You got a minute?" Rogers looks at you, "You got this?" Barely waiting for your affirmative nod, he answers. "I'm on my way." You find yourself staring after him as he almost runs away from the boredom of escorting this.. wait a minute. The man you were taking away stands straight up, brushing himself off. He holds out a hand. "Sorry about the smell. Paul. Paul Ramirez. I had been sent here to find someone of your nature to bring with us. We know that you fought during the war and we need someone capable of fighting against the odds. If you're interested, we can secure you some time away from your duties here and we can compensate you for that time." His other hand produces a card. "Go here. All the details will be explained when you arrive." He then turns away, leaving you alone in the corridor.
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