Prologue -- Surfing Over the Abyss
(Flynn, Daniel and Robin)
By Christina Kamnikar
"What the *hell* is that maniac doing?!"
"Oh, you saw it." Corwin joined his commanding officer at the main console and stared out the viewport at the shuttle approaching Docking Bay 6. There was nothing extraordinary about the shuttle, or the maneuvers it was executing; the thing that had caught both officers' attention was the sight of a figure being dragged behind the ship, attached to some kind of dragline. A man in an EVA suit balanced on a turboboard, grasping the line, and was currently doing flips, twists, and other acrobatics as the transport sedately approached dock.
Ivanova didn't look impressed. "ISN transport, this is Commander Ivanova of Bab 5 C&C. What the flaming hell do you think this space station is, a low-gravity circus tent?!"
"Excuse me?" The pilot's bewildered voice came through on the speakers. "Say again Bab5, is there a problem?"
"Damn right there's a problem! Your hitchhiker's the problem! Good... God. What was that?"
"A figure-eight, sir."
"Hitchhiker? Bab5, we don't copy---" Obviously, the pilot of the shuttle had no idea that someone was surfing along behind the ship. Telling him might cause him to panic; and as it appeared that the surfer was not in any immediate danger, the wisest course suggested that they wait until the ship finished docking. Corwin glanced at his superior's face and amended that thought - the surfer wasn't in any immediate danger from the docking routine. What would happen when the Commander got a hold of him was another matter entirely.
"Perfect. Thank you, Corwin. ISN transport, proceed to shuttle bay at half speed. When you've completed docking, do *not* disembark until Security has arrived. Do not unload any cargo. Do not attempt to use the StellarCom or any other communication channels. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200! Am I clear now?"
"Yes, sir," the pilot responded, still sounding confused.
Ivanova snarled and shut off the comm channel, then hit her link. "Garibaldi!"
The link cheeped and the security chief's voice came through, sounding amused. "Yo. What's up, Commander?"
"Get a team down to Docking Bay 6, don't let anyone leave until I get there. I have to tear some suicidal idiot's head off. Ivanova out." She snapped off the link before Garibaldi could comment, then stalked toward the exit. "Corwin, you have the conn. And if anyone else tries that kind of stunt, send 'em through the jumpgate. Without nav coordinates."
"Yes, sir. I mean... sir?" The doors were already closing behind Ivanova. Corwin decided to believe his superior officer had been joking. Just this once.
"You could've been killed!" Tonia Wallace was spluttering, an action the award-winning ISN reporter didn't usually indulge in, but then, usually her cameramen didn't decide to ski into the docking bay behind their shuttle. Two or three of the other crew members were trying to hide grins; they'd probably helped Flynn rig up the surf dragline after they got out of the last jumpgate. "If we'd had to switch flight patterns, you could've been smashed up against the station!"
"The dragline could've snapped, we might have had to decelerate suddenly---" The pilot was just as furious as the anchorwoman, with more cause, since he had the responsibility for his passengers' safety.
"Another ship could have done a fly-by and completely obliterated you----"
"Jesus, Flynn, have you got a death wish or something?"
"Of course not. But I had fifty credits riding on this." The tall, angular man with the wickedly white smile and disheveled hair smiled winningly at both of his interrogators with absolute calm. Neither looked soothed as he went on explaining in a terribly reasonable voice for someone who'd just risked life and limb in the middle of one of the busiest spaceways in the system. "I had it under control. The dragline is detachable, I had the turboboard for maneuvering, and the worst that would've happend would be I'd end up stuck outside the station for a bit. I checked the traffic before we began final approach, it was perfectly safe."
"That's an exaggeration at the least, Mr. Allen." Garibaldi shook his head, determinedly repressing a smile. It really wasn't funny. Messing with a transport during docking was never a smart thing to do. But damned if it hadn't looked fun; and damned if he could recall one reg that actually applied to this case. "It was a helluva risk to take for fifty credits."
"I apologize if I scared anyone---"
"Scared?" Ivanova strode into the shuttlebay, teeth clenched, eyes almost glowing, just about to breathe fire. "You want to see scared? Your face in the mirror after fifty years in the brig, that's scared. "
"Commander---" The Security Chief tried to interrupt Ivanova's rant, knowing where she was going with it and knowing that she wouldn't like what he had to say. //But hey, that's why you get paid the big bucks, right, Garibaldi? To face down your commanding officers when they're on a tear.... And they still don't pay me enough.//
"Arrest this idiot and the pilot too. Gross incompetence, for starters---"
"Commander, there isn't any reg on the books to cover this."
"What?! There's got to be!"
"No one's ever been stupid enough to try shuttle-surfing into a space station before." Garibaldi shrugged and tilted an eyebrow at her ruefully. "So there isn't a specific rule to cover it. The pilot didn't know Mr. Allen had 'disembarked' until they finished docking, although I'm still not sure how he pulled that off----"
"Trade secret." Allen's blue eyes sparkled with glee, clearly relishing the aftermath of his stunt as much as its actual success. "Something I learned covering the Mars Riots."
"---so we could charge the pilot with negligence, but I don't think we could prove anything. If you can come up with a charge for Mr. Allen, I'll arrest him, otherwise---"
"Playing in traffic, surfing without a license, and being a danger to himself and others!" Ivanova shouted. "Garibaldi, either you arrest him, or I'll drag him around the station without an EVA suit! Got it?" She turned and stormed out of the shuttlebay, not bothering to check on which choice the security chief was going to take.
"I think that about covers it." Garibaldi gestured to two of his men, and Flynn shrugged philosophically as they escorted him out of the docking area. "You'd probably better explain why this might not qualify as reckless endangerment to the Ombuds tomorrow. Right now, I'd say the brig is the safest place for you to be."
"You may have a point." Flynn watched the departing EA officer with interest, and no apparent awareness of the danger he was still in. "She's rather something, isn't she?"
Garibaldi shook his head, stifling a chuckle, and muttered under his breath, "Talk about death wishes...."
May 11 11:34 AM Earth Standard Time
Red Sector, ISN overflow quarters
"Go 'way. There's no one home."
//knock knock knock knock knock// *beep*
"We're not interested...."
//knock knock knock knock KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK knock//*BEEP!*
"Ah, bloody...." Flynn rolled over, retrieved his jeans from the floor and slipped them on, then got to his feet with a sigh. "Enter."
"What the hell are you up to, Flynn?" Daniel Marisoto barged into the room as soon as the door lifted enough for him to pass under it, storming across the small space with enough momentum to carry him to the far wall before he finished speaking. He whirled and stabbed a finger at the taller man, his expression accusing. "Just tell me what's going on, so I can figure out how big a pain in the ass it's going to be to keep you from getting killed."
"Nice to see you too, Danny." Flynn smiled sardonically and pushed both hands through his hair, blinking himself the rest of the way to awake. He never slept well in jail cells, and his hearing with the Ombuds had only finished an hour and a half earlier. Too bad his crash time was clearly over now. "Didn't know you were on the station---"
"Don't you start that with me. Spill it. I know you're planning something. I know what kind of junk you get into." Dan was building up a good head of steam, from what Flynn could see, and there was only one way to head him off before he went for back-up in the form of his fiancee. If he did that, Flynn would *really* be in trouble.
"Coffee?" He wandered over to the kitchenette, and started punching buttons on the automatic grinder, so that Daniel had to shout his next reply over the whirring gears.
"No, damnit! Just answer the question!"
"Lovely non-weather we're having, don't you think?" Flynn hit a button to shut off the grinder and poured the grounds into the coffeemaker.
"Flynn...." Daniel was growling, and Allen couldn't repress a grin.
"Of course, on a space station it's always fair and fine, but I think the solar generators are doing a fantastic job of keeping the temperature really comfortable---"
"Fine, I'll have some coffee. Happy?"
"Only if you really want some---"
"Just pour the stuff."
"You take cream, right?"
"Yesss...." Marisoto was visibly calming down, rolling his eyes and muttering, but not glaring or yelling any more. It always worked; if Flynn talked pointless nonsense to him long enough, Daniel would give up on direct questioning, knowing he would tell Dan what he needed to know when he was ready. Sometimes there wasn't even that much to tell, but he could never resist drawing the game out as long as possible. Five years at the Sydney bureau had led to enough trouble for the two of them that he knew how to handle Daniel. Too bad twice that amount of time wouldn't be enough to clue him in on how to cope with Daniel's lady. //Ah, well. Robin's what he wants, and she makes him happy. Even if she is the most dicatorial female either of us ever met....//
He handed Dan a mug, and the other reporter accepted it with a grumbled, "I know you're planning something. You never do anything without a reason---"
"True. Right now, I'm getting dressed, because in spite of the perfect climate here, going shirtless in public is still frowned upon in some circles." Flynn withdrew a shirt from his satchel and shook his head sadly. "Damn shame, too, my tan's just starting to become perfectly even."
"I'm talking about yesterday's grand entrance," Daniel said with extreme patience.
"You heard about it! It was marvelous, Danny, you should try it yourself sometime." Allen pulled the shirt on over his head, then looked around for his shoes. "When there's no other traffic around the station, naturally, otherwise it's a good way to die."
"There's a good way to die?"
"If Commander Ivanova's involved, definitely." He flashed Dan another grin. "But I won fifty credits off Bell and Terrence instead, so I figure I came out ahead."
"Fifty credits?! This isn't about fifty credits, and you know it!" Marisoto slammed the coffee cup down, got up and started to walk for the door. "Fine. Fine. Fine! Forget I asked. You don't need my help, you're not planning anything, you can just keep risking your neck without anyone to look out for you if that's what you want---"
"Danny, Danny, Dan my boy---" Flynn scrambled across the bed and rushed to cut him off before he reached the door, knowing he'd pushed the game as far as Dan would let him. "Don't get steamed, I just don't think you'll *want* to know, to be honest."
"You _are_ up to something." Dan crossed his arms in triumph, his eyes glinting, and Flynn cursed under his breath as Marisoto's grin widened victoriously at his admission. "What is it?"
"A story I'm working on."
"What kind of story needs you to almost get tossed off the station for reckless endangerment?"
"I had to make an impression on the denizens of Babylon 5."
Daniel snorted and leaned back against the door. "You almost made one on the station hull, you moron."
"I was completely in control---"
"Yeah, right."
"Seriously. And now, I have what I want." Flynn fished around in his duffle for a second, then tossed a small plastic chit to his friend.
"What am I looking at?" Dan asked long-sufferingly, playing straight man with the ease of long practice.
"An invite, Dan my man, an invite to the most no-holds-barred, death-defying, bone-crushing, no-rules, no-refs, non-stop game to take place inside a space station."
"No... way."
Flynn chortled wickedly, barely able to conceal his smugness. "Oh yes."
"You got an invite to the Bab 5 hockey game?" Marisoto shook his head, his eyes wide. "Damn. I know reporters who've tried to bribe their way into that thing and got taken on a tour of Downbelow instead. Minus their wallets. Nobody's ever been able to find it, no matter what rumors they chase down. And you're actually going to get to see a game?"
"Better. I got a request to play on the team."
Daniel stared at him for ten long seconds. "You're out of your mind."
"No, listen, it's perfect---"
"People get dead in low-gee street hockey! Maimed! Seriously brain-damaged! There's no protective gear, the players are goons, they give you *more* points for causing bloodshed--- let's not even _talk_ about how illegal it is---" The full boil that Dan had been building up to earlier came back within seconds, and Flynn started talking faster in order to explain before Dan started storming around the room again.
"That's what makes it the perfect story."
"You're out of your mind," Daniel repeated.
"I'll go in with a throat mike and hidden camera, you'll get the feed directly---"
"Oh, so *now* you need my help."
"Only if you want to, Dan. I won't push you into this...."
"What would you do if I said no? What were you going to do if I hadn't been on-station this week?"
"I was going to ask Terrence to hold the wire, monitor the game for me in case anything went wrong---"
"Like what? What would you consider bad enough to pull the plug?"
Flynn shrugged and began looking around for his room key. The question didn't interest him; something would happen, it was nearly guaranteed, and he'd know that it was time to bail when it came down. Until then, it wasn't worth thinking about.
"Damnit, Flynn, what are you looking to get out of this?"
Surprised, Flynn looked up at the tone of concern in Dan's voice. Marisoto was studying him closely, more closely than the situation warranted, in Allen's opinion. "The story of a lifetime, what else?"
"You've already had half a dozen of those, do you really need another one? What are you trying to prove, that bullets bounce off you?"
"Are you feeling okay, Danny?" Flynn grinned at Daniel, marvelling at how worked up his friend could get over a few risks. "There's always another story. Besides, you know me. I can walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death and buy a T-shirt at the concession stand. I don't need to be bullet-proof with a record like that."
"That's not what I meant." Dan stared at him a second longer, then groaned and shut his eyes. "Okay, I'm in. Terrence doesn't have the chops for this. But I'm warning you, Flynn, I see one thing I don't like, and I'm calling in the troops. I _mean_ it. Only one. No more. Got it?"
Flynn opened his arms wide, and tried for an innocent expression, which earned him another glare from Dan. "I'd expect nothing less from you, Danny."
"I'll bet."
"C'mon, let me buy you breakfast, and you can tell me why you're still on-station, instead of back on Luna."
"You're buying me a lot more than breakfast after this is over, Flynn...."
8:59 PM
Brown Sector
At 9:02 the two men he had been waiting for came in, and Flynn's adrenaline kicked in. "You reading me, Daniel?" he murmured softly.
"Yeah. Clear as Stellarcom. Don't mess with the settings and we should be cool," Daniel replied, his voice coming in through the earclip feed. "But remember what I said. One thing, Flynn. One thing that I don't like, and it's over. You bail. Got it?"
"Mmm-hmm. Got it. Wish me luck," Flynn whispered, standing and crossing the room to his contact.
"Break an arm. I don't think you need to break your legs again," Dan muttered sourly, and then Flynn mentally tuned out his friend's grumbling in order to concentrate on the situation at hand.
He didn't greet the hockey game liaison, just nodded to the short, garishly-dressed man, and ordered another beer. When it came, he placed his credits on the bar along with his "invitation", and slowly sipped his drink until the man sidled up to him and tapped him on the arm. "Hey."
"Hey yourself," Flynn said easily, not turning to look him. He was peripherally aware of his contact's hired muscle hovering at his elbow, and spared the two of them a sideways glance before he went back to his beer. The contact, dressed in the metallic gold jacket he had been told to look for, barely reached his shoulder, and he seemed to be determined to make up for it by exuding three times the attitude required, if the sneer was any indication. The muscle, by comparison, stood like a immense inverted pyramid, all shoulders and chest, with placidly expressionless eyes watching his employer for cues. //Something like finding a rattlesnake and a rhinoceros at your door...// "Can I do something for you gentlemen?"
"You the guy who skiied into the docking bay?"
"Possibly."
"Then we're here to do for you. Search him, Ron."
"Hey!"
Ron pulled Flynn up by the scruff of his neck, and patted him down with hands the size of grappling hooks. A few onlookers appeared to be curious until the liaison glared at them, then went back to their own drinks. The thug found the knife he had in his boot (for show, and so
they'd be satisfied they found something) and the small Taser in his back pocket and confiscated both.
"Thought we told you not to bring any extras," the dead-eyed man said, casually examining the knife.
"Consider it a gift... I would've given them to you if your mastiff here had asked. Brown Sector isn't exactly the safest place on station, you know." Flynn jerked at his jacket collar and straightened his shirt, pretending irritation, hiding his glee that they had missed the microphone and concealed camera in his choker, and the earphone in the cuff. "I don't take stupid chances."
"Then why do you want in to the Game?"
"That's not stupid. That's a challenge. Make it through three periods of the only zero-gee street hockey game in an Earth Alliance sector? Do you think that's something everyone can do? I've got good money riding on my ability to score six points."
His contact grinned cynically, shaking his head. "To each his own stupidity. Let's go."
"Lead on." Flynn grinned, feeling his pulse take another jump now that the first hurdle had been achieved. //And my stupidity's going to get me a story no one else thought was possible... so how stupid is that?//
"You should listen to the man," Daniel informed the images on his screen. Flynn would have ignored him if he'd opened the link and said what he was thinking, so he left it closed. "You should run away now, Stupidissimo. Before you wind up dead." He sighed. "And I never should have let you talk me into this. So your host is right... to each his own." He ironically toasted his friend with his glass of fruit juice, then checked Flynn's position against the station schematic. Be damned if he was going to let him get lost in the labyrinth of DownBelow. There were enough things that could go wrong without compounding them by losing a fix on the other reporter's position.
Six years he'd known Flynn, and in that time he'd seen Allen do a lot of very, very stupid things. Things that should have broken his neck, wrecked his career, or made him the target of hit men. But he always pulled up right before he crashed-and-burned; that was the only reason Daniel was willing to do this. Helping someone commit suicide was *not* an activity Daniel was interested in. If Flynn thought he could pull this off, he'd go along with it. Up to a point. That point would probably come sooner than Flynn thought it should, but he'd just have to live with that. He'd put his life in Daniel's hands, so now it was his call to make.
"No wonder you don't have a regular producer, nobody with any brains would take you on," Dan griped at the currently out-of-frame Allan. "You're lucky you still have your ISN badge, moron. You're lucky you haven't been grounded Earthside for the next fifteen years. You're so damn lucky, that the day you run outta luck, they're not going to be able to scrape your atoms off whatever asteroid crashes into you---"
"He's still doing it?" Daniel jumped, waited for his breathing to return to normal, then swiveled to glare at the slim, jean-clad blonde who was draping herself over the back of his chair. "You couldn't talk him out of it."
"Does it *look* like I talked him out of it?" Dan demanded, gesturing at the monitors, then turned back to glower at the screen, tracking Flynn's position with one-quarter of his attention, half his attention still concentrating on being furious with both Flynn and himself for going ahead with this caper. The last quarter was firmly focused on Robin's fingers massaging his neck. "I swear, he ends up hurt, or worse, *I'm* not going to be sorry. I'm going to tack an 'I told you so' to his hospital bed and take out a three-page ad in the trades, so the next idiot learns better."
"I'll help with the spelling." His girlfriend squinted at the monitor, then shook her head. "Where is he, anyway? Nothing looks even slightly familiar."
"Moving from Brown Sector to Gray. Which makes sense, all the low-gee stuff is there or Yellow, and Yellow's too heavily policed."
"Mmmmmm." Robin continued to massage his neck, and Dan felt himself start to calm down, her presence reassuring him even when she wasn't doing anything other than heading off his next headache. "If you weren't doing this, he just would have talked Terrence into it."
"I know." Daniel rolled his eyes to heaven at the thought. "And lost him the first time the transmission cut out." He stared grimly at the screen, clenching his jaw. "The only reason he gets away with this crap is because he's *almost* as good as he thinks he is. You hear me, Flynn?" he suddenly demanded of the screen.
"You know he doesn't." Robin brushed her hand along his jaw, turning him to face her. "He's going to be okay, Danny. Trust me."
"You, I trust. Him...?" Dan snorted.
"He's going to be fine." She let go of his jaw so he could glare at the screens again, and went back to rubbing his neck. "And after he's back, you can watch me kick his ass for getting you into this, and worrying you this much. He might have given me the slip before he took off for the Dark Star, but he won't do it again."
"That's what's getting me through this." Dan upped the audio and kept his eyes glued to the screen, counting out the minutes and tracking Flynn as he kept moving farther into the station's remotest areas, only Robin's fingers on his neck keeping him from throwing something.
9:15 PM
Gray 15
"Is this really necessary?" he asked as they fastened the blindfold behind his head. "I've got no idea where we are now, and the word 'overkill' comes to mind."
"We don't want you to find your way back here later, either. This is a one-time trip, understood?"
A small snort in his ear was followed by Daniel's voice. "Just be glad he didn't say one-way, hotshot."
"Understood. Completely," Flynn said, answering them both.
More twisting hallways, a couple staircases up and down, too many for him to keep track of even if he'd been trying; an elaborate Blind Man's Bluff which finally led to another turbolift, one without a computer guidance program, to judge by the lack of electronic commentary on their entrance. //Abandoned? Or possibly a maintenance lift---// "Grab the bar," his guide ordered him, and Flynn managed to get a grip on a metal handhold right before the gravity cut out.
"Christ!" He grabbed it with both hands, instinctively correcting his body's tendency to drift toward the center of the elevator, hugging the wall. "Give a guy some warning, why don't you?"
An amused chuckle was his only answer from the rattlesnake, then Daniel began to reassure him. "You're in one of the auxiliary express turbolifts, Flynn. Even if Laughing Boy wanted to give you warning, he wouldn't have known when to do it --- he was grabbing for the handholds two seconds after he told you to get a grip." A crackle of static, and then Dan's voice cleared. "---still doing okay. Now's your last chance to back out, Flynn."
"You gettin' cold feet?" Giza asked.
"Not even close." Flynn smiled to himself, already used to the feeling of weightlessness, planning his game strategy in his head, wondering how difficult it would be do a bank shot off the floor while standing on the ceiling. //The better the shot, the better the tape, the better the piece....//
"If he lives through this, it'll be a damn good story," Daniel mused, concentrating on keeping the sound clear. The transmission from Gray Sector kept hitting metal bulkheads; transmissions always had to be tuned when taken from inside man-made structures. Space stations had their own special problems: too many power sources, ongoing communications --- // No *way* Terrence could have kept this tape clean. Flynn, you are gonna owe me for this...//
"You don't really believe he's in any danger of getting killed," Robin protested, leaning back in the chair next to him. "You never would have let him go in there with just a mike and a camera if that was a real possibility. Hurt, maybe, but---"
"He pushes too much," Dan interrupted her. "Anybody else would still be sleeping after getting back from some place like Akdor. He's down there about to slam into the walls so he can get a story he doesn't need." He rubbed his eyes, then grimaced. "No, I don't think he's going to get himself killed. He's not *that* stupid."
"So why are you going nuts? You've seen him do this before---"
"'Cause he's got no concept of limits, that's why!"
"Danny..."
"I'm chilling, I'm chilling, I'm... no, I'm not. Damnit, Robin, what is his problem? Why can't he just relax, lay back, instead of doing stuff like this?" Daniel gestured at the monitor, where Flynn was putting on red arm and leg bands, and testing out the grip on a hockey stick.
"You know why, you're the one that told *me*," Robin answered, shrugging and giving him a not unsympathetic look. "He does stuff like this so he won't feel anything after an assignment that screws him up. *This* is how he unwinds. He walks into a firepit."
"I know, I know...." He glared half-heartedly at the monitor once more. "I know. He's nuts. Why am I friends with him?"
"I have no clue." Robin leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "But it probably has more to do with how cool you are than how insane he is."
"Here's how it goes," Giza informed the room full of eager and by now not-so-eager participants. "Reds on blues, you pick the positions for your team, you switch court sides after the first and second periods. There are no timeouts. If you're injured, you play hurt or you're out for the rest of the period. No replacement players. If you can't play five minutes of the next period, you're out for the rest of the game, and your team plays undermanned. There are no foul penalties, no penalty box, and no commercials. Anybody got any problems with that?"
Flynn glanced around the room, turning his neck so he could get each player in camera range. Apparently no one had any problems, or any questions -- most of the players merely looked bloodthirsty. A few looked like they wanted to back out but knew it was too late. Personally, he was only feeling the buzz of anticipation as he finished wrapping his stick and taped it off, then followed the others as Ron the Rhino opened the door to the rink.
It was a regulation-rink-sized room, empty and industrial gray except for taped red-and-blue hockey markings and a net at each end of the room, with internal camera hookups along the ceiling and floor. //Piped to somewhere else onstation, Brown Sector maybe, where the viewers are --- and they probably sell tapes of this for extra. Must make a mint.// And now ISN had the exclusive first look at the action. //If I keep moving, avoid the fights, and hang back, I can get the best tape --- well, maybe I can just get *one* goal.... //
He drifted over to the midpoint of the Red team's court, the honor of being goalie going to a behemoth the size of a shuttlecraft with what looked like iron fillings. The Blue goalie was an equivalent size, with a jagged scar working its way down from his hairline and zigzagging across his broken nose. //Not the prettiest guys onstation... // None of them were. Even the scared-looking ones had the appearance of homeless Lurkers, not seasoned pros. //No pro in his right mind would walk into this game---// For a split second, Flynn was aware that what he was doing was almost guaranteed to get him injured, and that he would hate it (the inconvenience mostly, but the pain too, he wasn't that nuts about pain) and for another split second, he knew that the only reason he was doing this was to avoid thinking about several other things. Other stories. And the outcomes of those stories.
Then the second passed, and he grinned, sizing up the stocky player opposite him. //I can take this guy. Not a problem...//
"Good luck gentlemen, and remember ---" The door slammed shut with a clang, and then a *boom*, and Giza's voice fed into the room via the sound system. "Nobody, but *nobody*, leaves until time is called. Hurt, unconscious, bloody --- you're here until it's over."
"Shit!" Dan's voice in his ear was incensed. "Okay, that was it, Flynn! That was the thing I don't like! I'm calling it in now!"
"No!" Flynn whispered harshly, his eyes narrowing as his opponent set himself in a game-ready stance. "You can't! It hasn't even started---"
"Best time!"
*BREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP*
The argument was abruptly cut off by starter's whistle, and then Flynn was far too busy to try to argue with Daniel. He spared a moment to hope that they'd at least get in one good period before Security showed up, then concentrated on blocking the Blues' vicious advance without getting his elbow snapped. //Let's see what you're made of, boyo...//
9:45 PM Earth Standard Time
Security Office, Red Sector
"Chief Garibaldi? Uhh, this is Daniel Marisoto, ISN News." Garibaldi looked up, his eyes narrowing as he studied the nervous man on the comscreen, then he nodded in greeting.
"What can I do for you?"
"Actually, it's something I'm going to do for you... but I need a guarantee, first."
//Reporters. Never a simple, straightforward tip with you guys, is it?// The Chief closed down the security files and rubbed his eyes. "Look, if this is about wanting some kind of story or scoop, I can't---"
"Not exactly." Marisoto shook his head, looking even more edgy. "The thing is --- I need immunity for someone who's done something... sort of ... illegal." Garibaldi rolled his eyes, stilfling a groan as Marisoto continued in a rush. "But if I give you this information now, you'll be able to arrest a lot of *other* people who've been committing illegals acts, and prevent a few more. As well as saving Flynn's butt."
"Flynn --- this is the guy who skiied into docking yesterday, right?"
"Right. I thought you might remember him--"
"How can I forget? Ivanova's *still* steamed at the world." He shook his head grimly, concealing his amusement. "This would have to be *really* good for me to overlook another breach of regs after yesterday---"
"One word, Mr. Garibaldi: hockey." Marisoto raised his eyebrows significantly, and Garibaldi stared back at him, nonplussed.
"Hockey? What about hockey---- wait. Waitaminit. *Hockey*!? Zero-gee hockey? Your friend got a line on the null-grav hockey ring?!" He was already on his feet and hitting his link to summon Zack and the others who were on-call. "Mr. Marisoto, you've got my full attention. As well as any guarantees you want!"
9:55pm EST
Gray Sector - Null-Grav Hockey Rink
Five minutes on the rink had shot down all of Flynn's plans for scoring goals and making flashy moves. Right now, he was just interested in staying upright and conscious. The first guy to get hurt had ricocheted off the "ceiling" and into the goalbox when the opposing team body-checked him a little too hard, and since then Flynn was keeping both feet on the "floor" and staying the hell away from the Blue team's power forward. //Nasty forearm that man has... and backhand, and power pass, and ...// Flynn swerved to avoid a collision with one of his teammates, then jumped over one of the Blues who'd been knocked down a second earlier. //Christ!//
The hardest part of maneuvering in the room was that even without weight, the players tended to hit the walls with all the speed of a shuttlecraft crash. They didn't weigh anything, but they still had mass, which resulted in so much inertia that they could still konk their brains out when they hit obstacles --- like other players, and the walls, and the ceiling.... They just built up too much speed before something finally stopped them. He knew he'd gotten a terrific bruise from twisting in the wrong direction when a clump of players crashed him into the wall a few minutes ago. He knew he was still broadcasting so far, though, because Daniel was keeping up a non-stop stream of abuse in his ear every second of the game.
"... last time I ever let you guilt me into anything, Flynn! Ever! Jesus, look out for the guy on your left!"
"I am, I am. Do you *mind*?" Flynn muttered, skidding out of the other player's way and nearly into the path of the killer forward instead.
"Aiiiiii----"
"Ahhh!" He ducked sideways as Dan screamed in his ear, and wondered how long it would be before the cavalry showed up. And how long Danny would hold this over his head. And whether admitting he'd been wrong would mitigate the lecture or bring the cavalry any faster.
10:00 pm EST
Corridor of Gray 15
"Take a left, then go down the hall about 200 meters," Daniel Marisoto said over the link. Garibaldi had patched him in once it became obvious they were going to need his help to find the illegal rink. "There should be an access door when you get there."
"Gotcha. How's the game going?"
"Blues are beating the Reds 3-5. Two casualties so far; one guy looks like he's down for the count." Marisoto sounded tense, which he should be, if his buddy was in the middle of one of those bloodbaths. "Whoops, I'm wrong. Four casualties... that *had* to hurt..."
"We're at the access door, give us a second to get it open." Garibaldi tried his access card, grimaced when it didn't work, then pointed his PPG and fired at the lock. The door slid open easily, revealing a metal staircase that was _definitely_ not on any of the Station plans. "Sonuva... I'd love to know how these guys tapped into this. How many flights up?"
"Three. Then take a right at the corridor. You're about five minutes away, I think. And could you hurry? Flynn's team is down by two guys now. I don't like the way the odds are shifting."
"Don't blame you." Garibaldi motioned his people up the staircase, Coreen and Martinez taking point, Zack bringing up in the rear with him. "Anita, have you patched in to our backup team?"
"Roger that, Chief. They're about ten minutes behind you." Anita Lacey's high-pitched voice came through clear and anxious over the link, and he tightened his grip on his PPG. //Let's just hope we don't need 'em --- //
10:04pm EST
Gray Sector - Null-Grav Hockey Rink
//Not that it matters if we win or lose --- I just want to live through the game.// Where the hell was that Security team? It figured. The one time Flynn was willing to look to Daniel for a little bit of discretion and better judgement, Dan was probably listening to Flynn after all.
Flynn realized that the opposing power forward who'd taken out their two guys was preparing for another run down the rink. "Uh- ohhhhh..." Two of the Blue teamplayers frantically skidded to get out of Godzilla's way, probably fearing their teammate would crush them with pure momentum. The forward didn't even seem to notice. Flynn decided to just let him pass on by. //If he wants to win that badly, I'm certainly not going to disappoint him... oh, hell.//
Through more luck than planning, one of his fellow Red teammates had managed to shoot the puck out of Godzilla's grasp, and it was headed straight for Flynn. //Did I *ask* for this? Don't answer that, God.// With no other choice, he took control of the puck and started skating toward the other goal with it, Godzilla lumbering slowly in his wake. //Just get it partway down the rink, then take any shot---// "Whoaaa!"
"Aiiiggghhhh!" One of the smaller Blues stumbled over an opposing player's stick, slipped, bounced, and then couldn't stop his momentum, heading on an opposite airborne vector to Flynn's advance. //Oh man, oh, *man* ---// He slammed into Flynn, sending him backward several feet, straight into the power forward right behind him.
"Damnit, man, look where you're--- OW!" A fourth player slammed into Godzilla, who grunted with pain and tried to correct his angle --- which sent Flynn spinning off toward the "ceiling", two other players following and landing on top of him. Something in the region of his shoulder went
"Flynn? Jesus, Flynn, talk to me, what the hell happened?"
"Owwww...."
"Flynn!"
Everything was trying to go fuzzy, and Flynn couldn't get up the energy to push away from the flat surface under his head. A fizzing sound by the door got his attention, and he forced himself to turn his head "downward" to see a line of sparks around the edges of the room's entrance. //Security.... about time....// The door blew inward with a burst of sound, and then he heard Garibaldi yelling, "Bab 5 Security! Everyone put down your--- " The Security Chief ducked as one of the players threw his stick at his head. "Okay, you're under arrest! You're all under arrest!"
"You and you!" Garibaldi's blond second barked, pointing his PPG at the ceiling, motioning to Flynn and his groaning comrades, "C'mon down from there, that's right... hey, you too, buddy!" he added, frowning at Flynn.
"Mmmmmppphhh..."
"Buddy? Hey, where's that medical team?"
Flynn didn't get to find out, because he really couldn't stick around for them. //I hope the camera kept recording when I hit....//
May 12 7:05pm Earth Standard Time
"Quit whining, Flynn. You heard what Dr. Franklin said . No stress, no exertion, no risks, no drinking, and no further stupidity for at least 48 hours." Robin tossed a peanut in the air and caught it in her mouth, leaning back in her chair and motioning to the waiter for another vodka tonic.
"What you _deserve_ is to be in a lot more pain than you are now." Daniel snorted, taking another sip of his own drink with a half-hearted glare at Flynn. "You got damn lucky, and you know it. Take the consequences like a man."
Paulie's was full of people, some of them ISN reporters helping celebrate the latest story broken by one of their team, a few of them Security people looking justifiably self-satisfied. The crowd hadn't gotten rowdy yet; that would happen later, as the party moved on to other bars. Still, the place looked a lot livelier than it probably did on most nights --- some of the techies were calling suggestions to the piano player, who was randomly picking and choosing from the songs they shouted out, forcing the red-headed chanteuse onstage to keep up as best she could. Flynn grinned in her direction, noticing that she didn't seem to be having a problem so far, and she rolled her eyes and tipped him an amused smile back.
"I am taking the consequences. You don't see me yanking off these bandages, do you?"
"That's because two of the waitresses have already slipped you their com numbers and cooed over your wounds. You're enjoying all of this, even the restrictions on the drinking, since everyone is offering you rainchecks for later." Robin made a face, then glanced at her watch and got to her feet, slipping her jacket back on as she leaned down to kiss Dan. "So stop looking for sympathy. Either you quit giving Danny grief, or I'll come back after I'm done with this evening's edits and re-break your collarbone."
"Yes, Your High-and-Mightiness. I shall endure my pain in silence, evermore---"
"That'll be the day." Dan rolled his eyes, then smiled at Robin. "See you back at my place, after?"
"Uh-hunh. And if Flynn doesn't lighten up, just slap a handful more tranqs on him and shove him down an elevator shaft. I'll say you were with me. See ya." Robin loped out of the bar without turning back at the chuckles Dan let escape in reaction to Flynn's sour expression.
"What you see in that woman, I will never understand."
"The fact that she's smart enough not to buy your lines, for starters. She gives great back rubs. And she's tough enough to kick your ass, or the ass of anyone else on this station."
"I don't know... I think Commander Ivanova could give her a few good rounds." Flynn drained his cola, then blinked at the mental image. "Now *there's* a thought...." Fatigue was starting to catch up with him. After the Security Team had finished rounding up the participants in the game, he'd awakened in MedLab to lectures from both Danny and Dr. Franklin, spiced with disgusted commentary by Robin. The setting of his four broken bones had *not* been fun; but the chance to see the tape from his excursion into DownBelow had more than made up for it.
"Mr. Allen. How're you doing?" Flynn turned his head and winced, then grinned as Garibaldi's second-in-command took the seat the Robin had vacated. There'd been a small amount of confusion in the MedLab when both of them had been taken in, and several jokes about the two of them being long-lost cousins.
"Mr. Allan! Fine, thanks to you and Mr. Garibaldi. Did I mention how much I appreciate your perfect timing?"
"Yeah, on your way into MedLab. You were babbling something about Godzilla and Goliath in the Mutai, and you were thanking me and the Chief for taking on the Security detail for the match." Zack chuckled and Dan smirked at Flynn, who sighed long-sufferingly. "Seriously, though, we owe you one. We didn't get everyone involved in the ring, but we got all of the muscle, the techs running the feeds, and what had to be most of the fixers. The ring'll be out of business for a little while, at least, and hopefully that'll give us time to catch up to everyone else who was involved. The Chief wanted me to pass along his thanks. And, ah, a warning."
"Warning?"
"He says he'll feed you to Commander Ivanova if you ever do anything that reckless on his watch again." Zack raised his eyebrows, looking half-amused and half-impressed. "And you know, I don't think he was kidding."
"What kind of threat is that? That's the sort of threat that just *guarantees* that I'll---"
"---keep his nose clean for the rest of the time he's on Babylon 5, and any time he's back here in the future. You tell Chief Garibaldi that *I* said so," Dan interrupted, glaring heatedly at Flynn.
"And obviously, I can't contradict him in my weakened condition," Flynn said sarcastically. Relenting at the dubious expression on Zack's face, he added, "Please reassure the Chief that I'm not going to be in any shape to do anything *but* relax until the next shuttle for Earth leaves. And that I promise to confine my next on-station investigations to ones that won't require undercover work."
"Glad to hear it," Zack said, glancing over as the singer left the stage, then stood up, giving Flynn one last rueful grin. "I gotta go, but I just wanted you to know that you are the *craziest* reporter ISN's ever had here. Personally, I think it kinda makes a nice change from some of the others. And I expect an ISN T-shirt from you when you get back to Earthdome, like you promised."
"Of course. I always keep my promises," Flynn said, shaking the man's hand, and wondering when the hell he'd promised that. "It's been a pleasure. Cousin."
"Take it easy. Cous." Zack flipped him a salute and wandered over to the bar to talk to the singer. //The man's an Allen, even if he spells it wrong... good in a crisis and great taste in women...//
"I wasn't kidding, you know." Dan's dark eyes were level and calm, but the steel in his voice snapped Flynn's attention back to him like a spring. "You are not going to pull this shit again. You do, and I'm turning you over to Personnel for a psych eval."
"Oh, come on, Danny---"
"I am serious, Flynn. You listen to me." His friend leaned forward, his face nearly expressionless except for the absolute focus of his eyes on Flynn's face. "I went along with this because I couldn't talk you out of it. And because I didn't have enough just cause to report you for your damn suicidal impulses. But this is the last time. You could've pulled out in the tube, you could've agreed to call in Security as back-up at the beginning---"
"It wouldn't have made nearly as good a story, and you know it."
"This is not about the story, goddamnit." Dan's voice was still low and even, but rising in intensity. "I don't know what's going through your head when you pull these stunts. I'm not going to pretend I do. I'm just sick of watching you do it. You find some other way to come down from stories like Akdor, or I'll find a way for Personnel to ground you indefinitely. Got it?"
Flynn stared at him for a moment, uneasily aware that Dan wasn't kidding. As well as knowing that Dan had a point, and it wasn't even one that was all that difficult to figure out. It didn't take a brain trust to know what he was doing, or why. He did take too many risks, he did handle stress by putting himself in the line of fire. Someday it would probably get him killed. But he didn't know how else to handle the nightmares some of the stories evoked; he wasn't sure he wanted to try.
But he didn't have to make Danny watch.
"Got it." //At least, I'll make sure you don't hear about it... and I'll deny it if you do.//
"Good." Dan eased back in his chair, smiling slightly. "You aren't allowed to die before you've stood as Best Man at my wedding, anyway."
"Oh, God. Are you *sure* I'm not allowed to drink?" Flynn looked tragic and Dan threw a peanut at him, then Flynn flipped a pretzel into his wineglass, laughing. Terrence, Bell, and Tonia joined them again, all of them smirking as the singer got back on stage. Smile glimmering, the chanteuse said, "This next song is dedicated to Mr. Flynn Allen, at the request of all his friends at ISN...."
"To Flynn," Tonia, said, raising her wineglass. "In the hopes that he can stay out of MedLab, next time."
"To Flynn, in the hopes he stays out of _jail_ next time," Terrence said, raising his glass and grinning.
"Hmmm? Oh, right, right...."
"Right. To Flynn," Dan raised his glass, shaking his head as Flynn picked up his own glass. "In the hopes that he learns better!"
On to Prologue 2 -- Mad Media Moments (Sophie and Drew)
Back to Freedom Network
Back to Babylon 5.14159
Based on characters and situations created by
Babylon 5 and associated characters and places are used without permission, for entertainment purposes only.
Red Sector -- Paulie's
I met my old lover on the street last night
"There isn't going to *be* a next time," Dan insisted, while Flynn chortled under his breath at the words to the song. "Right?"
She seemed so glad to see me, I just smiled
And we talked about some old times and we drank ourselves some beer
Still crazy after all these years, still crazy after all these years
"I'm not the kind of man who tends to socialize
"To all of you: for your continued support and good wishes. And just to say: here's hoping this happens to *you*, next time." Flynn tossed off the remnants of his drink while everyone laughed, then lifted his glass in an expression of gratitude to the singer, as she smiled innocently and went into the last verse.
I seem to lean on old familiar ways
And I ain't no fool for love songs that whisper in my ears
Still crazy after all these years, still crazy after all these years..."
"...I fear I'll do some damage one fine day
But I would not be convicted by a jury of my peers
Still crazy after all these years
Still crazy, still crazy, still crazy after all these years..."
J. Michael Strazynski and Babylonian Productions.