Prologue -- Mad Media Moments
(Sophie and Drew)
By Christina Kamnikar
Sophie Tenatta was wearing a suit that might have come from the same shop as Cynthia's, only the younger woman wore hers a little tighter, a little brighter, and with more noticeable jewelry. Her long crinkling black hair was cut in the latest trendy wave, and her nails were painted the most fashionable metallic shade this week, but her eyes were hard and focused underneath all the trimmings. At first glance, Drew D'Ambow, seemed casual by comparison to his colleague, with his sunny Caribbean attitude of go-with-the-flow, even though the threads in his shirt were probably Centauri silk, and those trousers hadn't come from anywhere but L.A. But the perfect, gleaming smile he gave Cynthia bore a greater resemblance to a shark's than to a toothpaste ad. Both of them had been on Babylon 5 before, but neither was permanently assigned there; the regular onstation correspondents were busy with the day-to-day news, and she hadn't wanted any of them working with her on *her* show, anyway.
"Geneva's moved up the deadline on production, so I need whatever you can get me in 24 hours."
"That's hardly enough time to---"
"Cynthia, if we had at least three days, we could get some really terrific---"
"Twenty-four hours." Cynthia studied them with jaundiced eyes, knowing their records, knowing their work; knowing that both of them were ambitious enough to want her job. If she *did* give them the usual timeframe, one or the other of them might come up with something fantastic. But that was not their job, that was her job. So twenty-four hours it would be.
Sophie leaned forward, shiny hair swinging forward like a curtain, silvery nails clicking on the desk, her mouth curving downward in a concerned frown. Cynthia matched the younger woman's concerned look with her own patented one of patient inquiry, suppressing amusement at the flame of irritation Sophie was trying to hide. "Cynthia, you *know* we'll do our best, but ten spots will take some time, and there's the question of waivers---"
"Get people who don't mind being interviewed."
"Cynthia...." Drew shook his head ruefully, charming smile in place, his smooth Haitian accent concealing his calculation much better than Sophie's professional veneer did. "Two days. You can give us that long. You won't regret it, you know that."
"We'll need the onstation production labs by then. Out of the question." Cynthia stood, smoothing down her jacket, then raising her eyebrows and gesturing to the door as both reporters stared back at her in ill-concealed shock. "Well? Whichever one of you gets me the best material, that's what we're airing. Full editing authority to the two of you, of course."
That got them. She hadn't become a prize-winning journalist by ignoring how to play her colleagues. Giving them editorial authority as well as on-air status upped the stakes. Sophie slanted a look sideways under her lashes at Drew; Drew's eyebrows climbed his forehead, while he gnawed at one knuckle, his eyes deliberately blank. Then they both broke for the door, Sophie making it through first by virtue of a spiked heel to Drew's instep. D'Ambow swore, nearly tripped, then rushed to catch up with his colleague, swearing in French all the way.
Cynthia sighed happily, secure in the knowledge that another challenge to her career had been successfully diverted; then went back to preparing her notes for the interview with the Centauri ambassador.
4:30PM
Paulie's
"Twenty-four hours..."
//Okay, Sophie. You can do this. All you have to do is work with what you know, and get more interviews than Drew. They *have* to air it if you do it right.// Ten interviews in 24 hours would be murderous, especially if she had to do too much editing. So she would have to get it right on the first shot, every time. Otherwise she'd blow the biggest opportunity of her career so far. Drew was a damn good interviewer; but she was hungrier, faster. She'd have them all done in twelve hours, then edit them into sparkling shape, so Cynthia would *have* to choose hers.
//No Rec-Room Romeo like Drew D'Ambow is going to beat me out of this chance. I'm going to blow Cynthia away with the best stuff she's ever seen....// Twenty-eight was not too young to have an anchor desk in Honolulu, or Sydney. Twenty-eight was *not* too young to get noticed by the big boys and stop doing entertainment spots. Cynthia had landed her first desk when she was twenty-nine. And Sophie was at least as good as Cynthia had been then; better, maybe. Not that she'd let Cynthia know she thought that. Discretion was the key word. Discretion, and sheer talent. //Brass ring, time to come to Mama....//
"Thank you so much for agreeing to do this, Ms. Ross," she gushed as she set up her first interview in Paulie's. She adjusted the lens on the camera and checked the light sensors, all the while aware of the ticking clock. She'd immediately thought of the low-key but expensive restaurant because she *knew* the owner would go for some free, discreet publicity; too bad his singer wasn't quite as thrilled as he had been. The attractive, petite redhead looked as if she were facing a firing squad: grim, determined, and refusing a blindfold so as to better stare into the face of death. "I swear, there's nothing for you to be nervous about here. It'll be fun! Really, I think you'll enjoy it."
"I'm not nervous," Sinjun Ross responded with a tight smile, her body language restrained and self-protective, British accent sharp enough to cut glass. Obviously her boss had talked her into this, and she was only going through it for his sake. Sophie had heard parts of the high-pitched argument that had occurred before Ross had stormed out into the main club to greet her. //Why can't she be like she is onstage? She looks so good when she's singing... maybe I should have asked her to do that first... no, no, no time. No time for that. Okay.// Well, she'd had more difficult subjects--- some of those convicts from Io came to mind --- all she had to do was force some energy into the interview. //*So* --- Happy smile, happy voice, great attitude, Sophie ---//
"Okay, in five, four, three, two... This is Sophie Tenatta, with ISN's 'Minute in a Moment!' We're talking with several residents of Babylon 5 as part of our lead-in to our '36 Hours' special next week. Here with us is Sinjun Ross, singer at Babylon 5's upscale jazz club, Paulie's."
"Upscale? Oh, he'll love that," Ross muttered under her breath, as Sophie swung the camera in a slow pan around the club and back to the singer, who was perched on one of the high barstools. //Pretty, in an soft, romantic kind of way; good color choice on her, the red goes well with her hair... have to edit out that comment... Maybe....// "Ms. Ross, could you give us a little background information about yourself? How did you end up singing jazz tunes on a *space station*?"
Sinjun shrugged, her eyes focusing on the camera and not on Sophie, much to her gratitude. At least the woman was a pro, even if she didn't want to be here. "I just sort of wandered here. I sometimes think all roads end at Babylon 5 these days. And no matter where you are, there's always someone who wants music. Universal constant."
//Get her talking about the music, maybe she'll loosen up.// "What does Babylon 5 have to offer someone in the entertainment industry that other venues don't?"
A tiny smile peeked out, and Ross seemed to ease a little bit as she answered. "The audience. Where else in the galaxy can I stand at a mike singing Billy Joel, and looks out to see Humans, Narns, Centauri, Drazi, Pak'mara... All listening, all enjoying, all getting *something* out of what I'm singing? It's... an amazing sensation."
//Yes! Thank you, that's it, relax, it's fun....// Sophie chuckled in amused agreement. "Well, you've definitely come to the right place for variety." Knowing the emphasis of Cynthia's interviews and knowing what she had to set up, she decided to get serious and ask one of the harder questions, get it out of the way. "Does any of that variety ever become a cause of concern? Do you ever feel unsafe, here on the station?"
The singer bristled, dark hazel eyes flaring in combat-mode, her voice becoming more scornful. "Unsafe on the station? Never. Security here is the best, and everyone is here for the same reason. This is a place for peace, and the vast majority of beings here are working for that peace. Sometimes, I feel safer here than on Earth. In fact, I know several people who would say they *always* feel safer here than on Earth. These guys know how to make you feel secure." She grinned mischievously, giving a little spin to the answer that could be taken several ways.
Sophie blinked, surprised and pleased; that had *not* been the answer she expected, but it would look good in the promos. "So even with the escalating Narn-Centauri conflict, you don't feel any impulse to leave the station?" She'd have to get background shots of the Narns and Centauri ignoring each other in the common sectors. You could cut the tension between them with an argon-welder on the best of days, and she could do a voice-over patch for that material if she needed to.
Thoughtfully, Ross tilted her chin upward, then gave a definite headshake of denial. "No. Wherever I go, someone's going to be fighting about something. Here, it's the Narn and the Centauri, out there... Well, it's always something. I'll stay with B5." Getting into the spirit of things now, Sinjun was swinging one leg, one arm draped casually over the bar, and Sophie mentally applauded, while gleefully patting herself on the back. //*My* airtime, Drew, don't mess with me, this is perfect!//
"What's the rest of the station entertainment scene like? Where do *you* go to relax?"
"It's not too different from anywhere else really. There's holotheatres, people-watching in the Zocalo, and I have a friend who makes a mean Italian dinner. If you like it spicy, he's the right guy." Ross actually winked playfully at the camera on this statement, and Sophie choked back a gurgle of laughter. Someone was being gently teased, if she was any judge. "One thing about this station, there's *always* something to do."
"Thanks for speaking with us, Ms. Ross. Anything else you want to share with our viewers?"
Sinjun raised her eyebrows and grinned wickedly. "Eat at Paulie's?"
Laughing, Sophie did a fast cut-and-return to herself, smiling and amused. "Thanks again, Sinjun. This is Sophie Tenatta, signing off for ISN's 'Minute in a Moment....'" She hit the off button, then grinned. "...And we're clear. See, that wasn't so bad!"
Ross was laughing hysterically, one hand over her mouth. "Garibaldi is going to *kill* me!"
"The Chief? Was he the 'cook' you mentioned?" Sophie thought back over the interview and Sinjun's comments about security and cooking, and grinned evilly. "Oooohhh, do I wish I could be there to see his face when this airs..."
Sinjun shook her head, still giggling, her face going as red as her hair, more from trying to stop laughing than from embarrassment, from what Sophie could see. "No, you don't. Really. I'm dead! And when he's done, Zack's gonna get me for the Security crack!"
"Well, if you are, send me a postcard from the other side." Sophie chuckled and saved the data to a permanent crystal, popping it out of her camera and putting a new one in before she forgot. What she wouldn't give to have another tech there to help; but they were all getting ready for Cynthia's big gig, so her dormant filming skills were being forced out of hibernation. She'd forgotten how much fun it was to do it all yourself, though. It had been a while since she'd been doing on-the-spot interviews.
"No problem. Stop by next time you're on station and I'll stake you to a drink." "Thanks. You know, I think I'll take you up on that..." Sophie grinned, then glanced at her watch, frowning. 5:00 PM. "Damn. Damn damn damn, I'm running late... I didn't realize what time it was when I got here. Any suggestions on where I can get some really good crowd shots, and maybe someone else I can sucker into an interview?"
Ross had herself back under control, sipping a mineral water that Paulie had brought her during her hysterics. "For crowd shots, like I said, the Zocalo's the place. As for suckers.... Sorry, I've got enough people after my hide."
"Well, maybe the Eclipse wants some publicity."
Sinjun looked elaborately offended, her face shading into a kid's look of pouty hurt. "Fine, *go* hunt down the competition!"
Sophie giggled, then paused on her way out the door. "By the way, what's the Dark Star?"
"The Dark Star? Okaaaay... It's a strip club, in DownBelow. Make sure you take someone large."
"Ah. No, never mind." She snickered, repressing glee with an effort.
The Dark Star had been Drew's alleged destination when both of them had rushed out of the equipment storage room; she'd been slightly worried that there was an entertainment spot on the station that she didn't know of. She should have known better. "Hmm. I wonder how much material Drew will actually be able to air from that place..."
"Judging from the reports Garibaldi generally gets out of there, not very much," Sinjun responded, rolling her eyes.
"Toooo bad. Pooooor Drew. Thanks, Sinjun, you just made my day--- well, my half hour." Sophie repressed another evil chortle, shaking her head at Drew's mistake. "Thanks again--- I have to fly, see you next time I'm on station!"
"I'll be seeing you, Sophie," Sinjun said, waving goodbye to her as she jumped in the lift. Sophie waved back, made a mental note to send Sinjun a thank-you card, then took a deep breath. Adrenaline that she hadn't felt in two years was starting to surge through her, and she smiled ferally at her reflection in the turbolift doors.
//Okay. Next victim.//
5:35 PM
Zocalo
Despite mentioning the DarkStar to Sophie, Drew knew better than to go looking in Downbelow for a story during the early evening. Why waste the time? Nothing worth recording and no one worth interviewing would be there until the wee small hours of the morning. Then, he could catch someone doing something interesting with very little effort. Conservation of energy was important; especially if he were going to do ten interviews in 24 hours.
He had a lot of respect for Sophie. She was smart, motivated, and ruthless. Just like him. And he had too much of a sense of self-preservation to let her know what he was doing when thirty minutes of credited airtime was riding on his interviews. Let her think he was in Brown Sector. It would give him that much more time to find other bits of filler in Red first.
And he had lucked out.
"Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, gentlemen!" Drew flashed a smile at the Centauri and Minbari standing next to the bar, carefully adjusting the sound pickup on his camera. "I assure you, your governments will not be offended by anything we will discuss."
"Actions promoting peaceful relations between Earth and Centauri *are* encouraged," Vir Cotto said doubtfully, glancing at the Minbari aide standing next to him, apparently seeking reassurance.
"You are certain that this is not going to... upstage? ... the interview which Ms. Torqueman has arranged with Ambassador Delenn?" Lennier asked, his pale face appearing mildly worried and nervous.
"I swear to you," Drew soothed them both, "this is only an introduction, so that our people can get used to the idea. Yes? That will be well, won't it?"
"Well... yes." Vir's eyes still looked hunted, but he appeared to be bracing himself with an effort at Lennier's glance of encouragement. "Three questions, then. Are you ready?"
"Was that one of the questions?" Vir asked, then shook his head immediately, answering himself. "No, of course not, never mind me, I just get a little high-strung in interview situations---"
"Truuuust me..." Drew smiled at both of them, and they returned his smile nervously, huddling together instinctively. Drew could have hugged them, they looked so harmless and photogenic. Exotic, but friendly. Almost cuddly. Perfect. Nothing the viewing audience could object to; and thirty seconds with them had convinced them that they had as much chemistry as Rebo and Zooty. Too good to pass up.
"Five, four, three, two... This is Drew D'Ambow, with ISN's 'Minute in a Moment!' We're talking with residents of Babylon 5 as part of our lead-in to our '36 Hours' special next week. Here with us are Vir Cotto, attache' to Ambassador Londo Mollari of the Centauri, and Lennier, attache' to Ambassador Delenn of Minbar. Gentlemen, would you like to tell our viewers a little bit about your duties here on-station?"
"Oh, we can't do that. Can we?" Vir asked Lennier.
The Minbari shot his friend a reproving look, and Drew choked back a chuckle at Lennier's expression and the pedantic tone he assumed as second later. "Of course we can. Both Vir and I act as diplomatic attaches for our worlds, handling administrative matters for our respective superiors, arranging meetings between different governments, and researching background on cultural matters for our embassies."
"So what do you do for fun?"
"Fun?" Now it was the Minbari's turn to look doubtful, and the Centauri's moment to light up with helpfulness.
"Well, there are some wonderful opportunities here to learn about other species' entertainments. For instance, there is a 'rock-and-roll' cafe' here, where they play very loud Earth music. I understand it can clear your sinuses."
Drew pressed his lips together and forced himself not to laugh. Lennier looked intrigued. "Really? I was not aware of that aspect of Human music."
Vir nodded his head enthusiastically. "Health and music working together--- it's really very enlightened. And they play games of chance in some of the other clubs, which I understand can give you interesting insights into different psychologies---"
"But we, of course, do *not* partake in such entertainments as gambling. That would be inappropriate," Lennier interrupted firmly. Vir opened his mouth, then blinked violently, his face taking on an expression of shock and pain as his companion continued to speak. "Since we have diplomatic status to uphold."
"Oh, right! Yes. We do. That is, we don't. Do you see what we mean?"
"Absolutely," D'Ambow drawled with a grin. "Anything else you wish to tell the people of Earth about Babylon 5?"
"That we hope that this will continue to be a successful and productive association between our two cultures," Lennier responded, smiling benignly.
"And that we're very glad they created this station, since it really is... our best hope for peace," Vir said earnestly.
"T'ank you, gentlemen... This is Drew D'Ambow for ISN's 'Minute in a Moment!'" //Sophie m'girl, eat your heart out.... I am *golden*!//
7:16 PM
Zocalo
Sophie managed to grab her next subject in the middle of the flea-market portion of the Zocalo, in between a stand selling pink, orange and red embroidered Narn prayer rugs, and one pushing lemonade, fizzy drinks, and alien fruit juices to passersby.
Magda Leuwenhoek, young, pretty, dark-haired, and wholesome, was perfect for the image Sophie wanted to project. Hometown Girl on the Big Station. Innocent Abroad. From the tips of her sneakers to her bright neon T-shirt (Zocalo! Our Last Best Hope for a Good Stiff Drink!) she was someone the audience back on Earth could identify with.
That she wasn't, maybe, the sharpest knife in the drawer, didn't show up until halfway through the interview. And by that time it was too late.
"So, Magda. Are you here with a tour group?"
Magda shifted her massive shopping bags and smiled brightly at Sophie, her eyes lit up with excitement, a dimple showing in one cheek. "Yes, I just graduated university and my parents sent me on this trip as a graduation present. 'Cuz I'm, like, an InterStellar Relations major and all."
"Are you enjoying yourself? How long have you been onstation?"
"We only got in yesterday, but I think this place is great!" Magda nearly bounced, rising up on her toes with excitement, and Sophie grinned back at her. "They have, like, so many different species here, and I think it's a really good exposure, you know, before I start my career."
Blinking, Sophie processed that, nodding thoughtfully while a sense of unease stirred in the pit of her stomach. "Ahhhhh. So this is all familiar to you, at least from school."
"Well, I mean, we studied all the different species and all, but now they're all, like, right *here*. It's totally different."
//Did she just say 'totally'?// Sophie cringed as the girl giggled.
"You know, I ran into a Narn in this bar last night-- just, like _sitting_ there drinking and watching the show. Just like a person... I mean a human and all. It was just, well, cool." Magda's eyes had widened in awe, her voice confiding as a five-year-old's explaining about her imaginary friends. Which would have been fine from a five-year-old, but from a young woman who *had* to be at least twenty, it was just a little scary.
//Ohhhh, boy.// "I can see how that would be true." Sophie coughed, wondering if Magda had *any* idea what she was saying, or if shock and interview nerves had jolted her into spilling anything that came into her head. "Does the Narn-Centauri conflict that is currently taking place worry you at all? Or do you feel safe here onstation?"
"Well, I mean, I'm concerned and all, of course. Really. But they're not, like, fighting *on* the station here, or anything, so I think we're safe." The girl was obviously trying to look judicious, but somehow the expression came out in a parody of deep thought that brought attention to her lovely dark eyes, and the total emptiness behind them.
"Glad to hear *that*..." Sophie said faintly, then pulled herself together. //Just get through this, you can put shots of the Zocalo over it, and cut out parts of what she said, and... just get through it.//
"Would you recommend Babylon 5 as a vacation spot to your friends? Or do you think, as some people back on Earth do, that it's a waste of resources?"
"Oh, no! I think it's *totally*, like, important to have a place like this where people can actually, like, *see* the aliens and learn that they're like real people too and all. Because I think we should all have peace and all, and so it's like really good to meet other aliens and all," Magda burbled sincerely, while Sophie mentally slapped her forehead, already hearing Drew's reaction to this in her head.
"You're so right... we're all aliens. Thanks for talking with us, Magda. Hope you enjoy your stay here!" //Someone rescue me from this girl... before she waves to her mom. Or before I have hysterics.//
"Oh, I will!" Magda flashed perfect teeth at the camera in a smile of mindless joy, and Sophie realized that with those teeth and enthusiasm, she could have a career in broadcasting. She kind of reminded Sophie of one or two of her less-bright colleagues. //Eeeek.There but for five billion brain cells go I!//
"This is Sophie Tenatta, ISN Minute in a Moment. Now back to our sponsor...."
9:45 PM
Zocalo
"... welcome back to ISN's 'Minute in a Moment!' I'm Drew D'Ambow. We're here in Red Sector, in the Gastronomic Extravaganza section of the Zocalo."
Drew slowly panned the camera down the row of foodstands, some exhibiting familiar and appetizing foods such as hot dogs and frozen yoghurt, others advertising dishes in alien characters that only vaguely resembled anything a Human would consider edible. "With me here is Pete Quixote, owner and operator of Pete's Neat-to-Eat-Meats." A smiling, overweight man with long sideburns grinned into the camera, gesturing with his tongs at the cuts of sausage, ribs, steak, and other carnivore's delights that were draped around his cart. "Pete, tell us about the Gastronomic Extravaganza."
"You can start at one end of the Zocalo, work your way all the way down to the other, and you won't find one repeat item," Quixote responded. "We vendors got the idea when we realized how many people wanted to try other species' foods. We've got warning signs, like this one, on every cart, so the customer knows what's safe and what's not." The sign hanging from the top of the cart showed the symbols for Human, Minbari, Narn, Centauri, Drazi, Eedikik, and Q'lorn. The man shook his head ruefully. "You ignore the signs, you end up in MedLab getting your whatever pumped! Had a Pak'mara here once, said he was buying a snack for a friend. Guy had a turkey leg, then keeled over and nearly turned pink when the stuff hit his system. You gotta be careful."
"What's your favorite alien food?"
"Spoo! Kinda reminds me of watery tapioca. Some people don't like it; me, I think that with a little sugar the stuff's a real good pick-me-up. Great protein."
"What would you be doing if you weren't working here on Babylon 5? Would you be in the same business?"
"Nahhh. I gave up this biz back on Earth, 'cause it was too much work hustling hot dogs outside of Candlestick Park." Quixote grinned, waving expansively at the surrounding crowds and bustle. "Here, there's always another customer on the way. Excuse me!" He turned away to serve a Minbari who was pointing to the ham haunches with a questioning expression, and Drew grinned, knowing a good exit line when he heard it.
"Thanks Pete. Keep it coming!... I'm Drew D'Ambow, and now back to our sponsor."
Not exactly an earth-shaking interview, but one that would give another viewpoint on Babylon 5, was solid and would look better than it would sound. In fact....
"Hey, how much is the mahi-mahi?"
August 4, 2259
Midnight, 0:00 AM
DownBelow FreeMarket Arcade
Thank God the powers-that-be on the station were trying to cooperate with ISN. Calling the Security office and combining threats with pleading had gotten Sophie an interview with two of the on-duty officers in DownBelow. Sophie was beginning to be seriously nervous about her ability to get enough interviews together before the deadline. Babylon 5 was always busy, always open for business; but it still slowed down toward the late part of the 'day', and she needed to have enough recordings in the can to have something to work with in the morning.
"This'll be perfect." She stopped the two Security people in front of a spiralling metal staircase that rose in between several temporary stands, backed up a bit, and checked the lighting. "If you'll just stand right there, I can get this shot---"
"As long as you do it quickly," commented Coreen Dickerson, irritation obvious as she leaned against the railing. "We don't *have* all night."
"Neither do I, Officer Dickerson. That's it, Anita, just stand right next to Coreen---" The younger officer nervously stepped next to her colleague, making a good contrast between the slightly-built strawberry-blonde and the much taller and more solid-looking black woman; Experienced Expert and Rookie Space Cop.
"Now relax, okay? This will only take a second, and I know you can handle it," Sophie said, smiling encouragingly. "Five, four, three, two ... welcome back to Minute in a Moment with Sophie Tenatta. We're here in Brown Sector, informally known as 'DownBelow' on Babylon5, with Officers Coreen Dickerson and Anita Lacey, Security Personnel here on-station." Anita smiled cautiously, looking psyched and slightly on edge, while Coreen raised one assessing eyebrow, clearly restraining herself from rolling her eyes. "Can one of you tell us a little bit about the area we're currently in?"
Anita bit her lip and looked helplessly at Coreen, who diplomatically said, "We refer to this area as DownBelow. It's a home for many of the transients who come through the station."
"I can see that a lot of the ... stands around us appear to be temporary," Sophie commented, swinging the camera around to get a shot of a jewelry stand that looked like it was selling fake watches, and another which was hawking herbal remedies, and possibly less legal pharmaceuticals. "Does this part of the station have more problems than the others?"
Anita grinned and spoke up before Coreen could shoot her a warning look. "Oh, they move almost every day. You really have to keep on your toes!"
"Like any other area of station, DownBelow comes with its own special set of problems," Coreen interrupted, raising her eyebrows significantly at her colleague. Anita blinked, then blushed, belatedly realizing how she must have sounded.
Sophie grinned behind the camera, recognizing which one of them was going to make the interview work for her. "Could you give us an example... Anita?" Coreen shot Sophie a dirty look, which she jauntily returned with an innocent shrug before waving more encouragement to the younger cop.
"Oh...." Anita glanced unhappily at Coreen, then swallowed and set her jaw. "Well, uh, it can be hard to keep track of people down here. They tend to, uh, move around very freely and, well, they're not exactly forthcoming with information a lot of the time."
"Typical of any large city, right?" //Better take pity on the kid before Coreen pulls the plug on this...// Not from any sense of mercy, Sophie acknowledged to herself, but simply to keep the interview moving so she could get enough material to use. "Oh, yes! It's just like any city back home... or anywhere, I guess," Anita answered, smiling in relief at the approving look her supervisor gave her a second later.
"B5 is exactly like any other city, with a slightly different view out the windows," Coreen added dryly.
"Nicely put... except for the alien population, I'd expect. Does interaction between the many different cultures provide you with any unique challenges?"
"Of course," came the cool reply from Coreen, "but nothing that can't be solved by diplomacy, as our Chief likes to say."
//Not going to give me an inch, are you, Coreen?... whereas Anita would be spilling her guts if you weren't here.// "What's the most difficult situation you've had to deal with on-station: conflicts like the ones between the Centauri and the Narn, or problems when station policy collides with, as you put it, diplomacy?"
Coreen looked thoughtful for a moment, then slowly said, "It can change from moment to moment. Trying to keep the peace between two enemy races always keeps us on our toes, but that's what the station's here for, after all."
"Besides," Anita smiled perkily into the camera, "any time policy collides with diplomacy, it's the Chief's headache!"
The pained expression on Coreen's face, followed a second later by Anita's look of "oh, no... did I say that *out loud*?" made Sophie's day; especially since she got it on camera. She covered up an attack of giggles by coughing, then saying, "Well, I'll be sure that Chief Garibaldi gives his opinion on that!" Anita's face went from chagrined to panicked, and Coreen's grim glare went up a notch and got turned in Sophie's direction as she cheerfully asked, "So. What's the *best* thing about working here at Bab5?"
"The variety. Life is never boring here," Coreen said, shaking her head at Anita.
"Yes, the variety," Anita echoed her, blushing bright red again and fidgeting nervously. "Never dull, hunh?"
Coreen obviously considered *several* comments on this, but settled for a grim, "No. Never dull!"
"Any last thoughts from you, Anita?" Sophie asked, unable to resist the opportunity to taunt Coreen a final time. Anita shook her head and smiled in embarrassment, then waved good-bye shyly.
"Okay. Thanks again, officers... this is Sophie Tenatta with ISN's 'Minute in a Moment!' Tune in for our special "36 Hours" on Babylon 5 next week!" Sophie clicked off the camera and set it down on the nearest table, chortling under her breath. "Oh, that was *priceless*."
"Garibaldi's gonna *kill* me...." Anita moaned, covering her face with her hands.
"So many of my interviews have been ending with those words," Sophie chuckled happily, knowing that *this* interview, no matter what, would make it onto the air.
Coreen looked disgusted and dragged Anita off the staircase by her elbow. "Can't imagine why. Come on, kid -- *you're* explaining this one to the Chief."
1:29 AM
DownBelow, The Dark Star
"You ain't gettin' in here, man."
"Come on, you know it will be wonderful publicity---"
"Back off, man! You outta here, or I *bust* your face! Comprende?"
"All right, all right, all right! I am gone. No need to get pushy," Drew said, raising his hands non-threateningly and slowly backing away from the bouncer outside the Dark Star. The huge man continued to glower at him until he was down the corridor about a hundred feet, then turned his attention to collecting cover charges from entering patrons. D'Ambow watched and fumed. //Of all the times to be recognized... Damn! Who would think that man would watch fashion shows?// Drew sighed in resignation. //He probably watched for the same reason I took the job; all those models.... There has to be a way to get an interview out of this place, it's just begging to be used...//
He grinned suddenly, spotting the perfect place to film from.
"...welcome back to ISN's 'Minute in a Moment!' I'm Drew D'Ambow. We're here just outside one of Babylon 5's more exotic 'exotic' bars, the Dark Star. A place for notables of many species, to meet, greet, and exchange .... pleasantries." Drew wiggled his eyebrows at the camera lens, keeping his voice low to add to the aura of sneaking around. "Behind me, you can see the entrance to the club. From our vantage point here, we can see who enters and leaves. And possibly chat with them about their activities on the way out." He hit the off switch on the camera and congratulated himself on his brilliance. Now all he had to do was wait for a victim to emerge.
"What are you doing over here? Are you some kinda perv?"
Drew turned, making shushing motions with his hands, then stopped, stunned. Three females (at least, he assumed the insectoid was female; she was a neon pink that somehow didn't suggest masculinity) dressed in various states of undress were staring at him curiously: a light-haired Human in a harem girl's outfit, a Centauri in a collection of shifting beads, and the insectoid, trailing green veils. He grinned, motioning them closer, and the Human warily took a step toward him, her hand clenching around a makeshift blackjack.
"I'm Drew D'Ambow, I'm with ISN --- would you ladies like to be on TV?"
The Centauri giggled, the insectoid made a chittering noise, and the Human snorted. "Are you for real?"
"For very real. I am most serious. I need interviews, and your bouncer wouldn't let me in the door."
"Joaquin's gotta attitude problem," the Human acknowledged. "You shoulda bribed him with some stims, he might've let you sit at the bar that way." She looked at him speculatively. "We're supposed to be working in about ten... but if you got the dime..." She rubbed a couple fingers together, raising her eyebrows, and Drew dug into his wallet, coming up with several five-credit chits. The Human considered them, checked with her friends (the Centauri shrugged, and the insectoid waved her arms in circles) then said, "What the hell. You got five minutes."
"...welcome back to 'Minute in a Moment!' I'm Drew D'Ambow. With me here are Jillian, Plessi, and---could you say your name again?" he asked the insectoid.
She made a high-pitched cheeping sound, and the Human interrupted with, "Most of the time we just call her Sparkle."
"Thank you. These three young ... women, are entertainers at the Dark Star. Tell me ladies, are there any significant differences in working at Babylon 5 as opposed to working at a planetary venue?"
The Centauri flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and nodded knowingly. "Oh, yes! The people. Half the patrons are from worlds where they've never even *seen* a Human, or a Centauri, for that matter. So we get some pretty weird requests, just 'cause of the curiousity factor."
"And there's the diplomatic crew," Jillian said, rolling her eyes. Sparkle and Plessi groaned and made gagging noises. "Some of them think they can get away with murder! There's rules here, y'know. No touching while we're on-stage, no asking us to undress without paying extra, no suggesting stuff without checking it with the management first. We don't need that kinda headache when we're trying to dance."
"Although, some of them can be nice," Plessi said, giggling. "Like that Ambassador, what's-his-name --- he always pays extra for those double-jointed dances the Reticulan girls do. And his friends are all cute."
"Oh, yeah! What was that one Minbari's name?"
"I don't know, but he was sweet..."
"Do you ladies feel safe here onstation, with the ongoing Narn-Centauri conflict?" Drew asked, trying to draw them back on-track. //Might have to cut that bit... don't want anyone to complain to the Network. Still--- I wonder if that was... nahhhh.//
Sparkle chittered in excitement, blinking her large eyes frantically, and Jillian cocked her head, then translated. "Sparkle says that it makes it harder to do our job, when we've got Narn and Centauri in the room; sometimes there's fights, and you can't get through a set without someone getting thrown into the stage. Messes up her concentration."
"Yes, and you know, *some* of us don't care what our governments are doing, we're here to dance, and nothing else," Plessi said heatedly. "I have to be extra-careful now, going back and forth to work. There are too many hot tempers out there. If I wanted to conquer the galaxy, I would be dancing in the military auxiliary corps, not here!"
"Still, it's better than some places," Jillian pointed out. "At least the Security guys here will listen if you tell 'em there's a problem, and they usually take care of it pretty fast. They don't want any freaks hurting people on the station, and that includes us. Can't say it's the same on some of the mining outposts."
"Are there any problems with dancers of so many different species working together?" Drew asked, unable to believe how well this was going.
"Oh, sure. 'Specially since the Dark Star doesn't have enough space in the dressing rooms," the Human admitted, shrugging. "But most of the time it works out."
"You have to be extra careful and polite, since we're all stuck so close together. You can't keep your personal stuff next to the Drazi's personal stuff, or she tries to rip your face off, and you can't store your tassels next to the bodypaint the Brakiri girls use, or they ignite. Something about the chemistry." Plessi shook her head, and Sparkle gave one low cheep of what sounded like annoyance.
Jillian laughed, saying, "Sparkle *hates* the perfume the Felaurian use, she's allergic to it, but they need it in their performances, so now they're on different schedules. Still stays in the curtains though, and she has to burn incense to keep from getting sick before she goes onstage."
"Any last words you'd like to say to the folks back on Earth?"
"Don't shut down Babylon 5 before you visit," Jillian said saucily. "You'd never know what you missed!"
"Wonderful. Thank you, ladies... This is Drew D'Ambow for ISN's 'Minute in a Moment!' Be sure to catch our special "36 Hours" on Babylon 5 next week!" Drew hit the off button and grinned. "Thank you again, very much. This will be airing in the second week of September, should you wish to watch yourselves on television."
"Cool."
"Could I persuade any of you to take a concealed camera into the Dark Star, just so we could get a look at the interiors? I'd like to cut in some shots of the bar---"
"Maybe," Plessi said, putting her hands on her hips and smirking. "But not for free!"
Drew sighed. "How much?" Jillian, Plessi and Sparkle immediately huddled together, whispering, and Drew realized he had just made a tactical mistake....
2:00 AM
Brown Sector, Turbolift 4
"Hold the lift!"
Automatically, Sophie hit the HOLD button without looking up to see who had called to stop it. //Tired, so tired... three more to go. Three more decent interviews, and I can sleep for four hours, and then go to the editing room and splice and cut and pretty it up---// She yawned hugely as the new arrival got on just as the doors were about to close. Leaning her head against the turbolift wall, she let her eyes drift shut as she fantasized about how wonderful it would be to be in her own bed, deep under the silk covers with an coldmask on her face and no need to be conscious for an entire day. //Once I have those spots... I will be established, I can sleep in...//
A low chuckle next to her jerked her awake, and Sophie looked up to see Drew grinning at her. "Aiiiiiigghhhh....!" she gasped, closed her eyes, shook her head very slowly, then peeled back one eyelid. Still there. Not a nightmare. "Drew." She straightened up, keeping her hands on her camera and her back to the wall, automatically brushing her hair out of her eyes and straightening her jacket collar. "How are you doing?"
"Better than you, I think." Drew folded his arms, jade eyes dancing with laughter as he contemplated her. "My, my, Sophie. You do look exhausted. Why don't you go back to your room, and get some rest? You can always find more interviews in the morning."
"Not a chance, D'Ambow. I'm not leaving you to chase down every viable feature on the station." Sophie stuck out her chin, and smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him. "But *you're* looking a little... peaked. Perhaps *you* need a nap."
"Me?" He laughed, showing off his famously white and perfect teeth, seeming genuinely amused. "I am touched by your concern, Tenatta, but you are incorrect! I am energized! This place is a --- cornucopia! Of stories. The possibilities are endless."
"Endless." Sophie snorted. "Is that why you're headed to Gray Sector? Because you wish to interview the fascinating air recycling crew?"
"No." Drew's eyes slid away from hers, and Sophie relaxed a little, recognizing signs of the same desperation and weariness that was driving her. "I have a lead on something else, actually. But I wouldn't want to bore you with it, cherie."
"Keep the endearments for your bimbos, D'Ambow. I am *going* to get those spots."
"It is too bad that you are so sleep-deprived that you've become delusional, *amie*. In your condition, who _knows_ what kind of garbage you'll record," Drew responded, his eyes glittering like a snake's. "But then, it is not your usual forte, is it? Looking pretty on camera, and reading the teleprompter --- that's more your speed."
"Coming from someone who doesn't even have a journalism degree, that's laughable," Sophie hissed. "You surfed into this job on your good looks and your charm! I've paid my dues, I've done the stupid infotainment spots, and this is *my* break, do you understand? Mine! Mine!"
"I don't need a journalism degree to know that you don't have what it takes to make it to the big desk, Tenatta." Drew's grin had diminished to a small, grim smile, matching the determination in his eyes. He smirked suddenly, and hit the button for the next floor. "And you shouldn't throw stones at how I obtained *my* job--- Miss Io."
Sophie felt her face go cold, all the blood draining away as her pulse went ballistic. She gave an inarticulate shriek of rage that climbed three scales and broke in half as the doors opened again. "Bastarde! Hijo di---"
"As always, a pleasure to speak with you, Sophie!" Drew ducked out of the doors before she could get her nails into his face, and she screamed again with sheer frustration, stamping her foot as the doors closed behind him. //Son of a ... Miss Io! I was *never* Miss Io!// She punched the turbolift floor buttons again, hard, wishing they were Drew's face. //I was second runner-up. And so what? I *have* a degree! I *am* a journalist! Ohhhhh, is he ever going to be sorry, I'm going to *show* him....//
4:47 AM
Brown Sector, Level 22
"What's your name?" //What am I *doing* here?//
"Mi nombre es Bashanto, chick."
"Okay. Ahem. we're on the air in five, four, three, two... Welcome back to ISN Minute in a Moment! I'm Sophie Tenatta. We're in another section of Downbelow, speaking with Bashanto, one of the quarter million Babylon 5 residents." This had to be the dirtiest section of Brown Sector there was, aside from the waste recyclers. A lot of the milling crowd around Sophie looked as if they could use a good dunking in the hydroponics section, including her current interview subject. "How long have you lived on Babylon 5, Bashanto, and what brought you here?"
"I've been here two-three years now." The wiry dark-haired man shrugged, looking nonchalant, or as nonchalant as someone wearing a serape and a rainbow headband *could* look. "I'm a trader, it's a clientele."
"Do your clientele live here in Brown Sector also?"
Bashanto grimaced at her apparent stupidity. "Heck, no! Nobody down here's got any credits! I sell to the tourists and all the muckety-mucks up above. I've got a spot I stake out just off the Zocolo itself."
"That's... impressive." Especially given that he looked like he'd be more likely to steal from the Zocalo than sell in it. He probably got chased off by Security on a regular basis. //Coreen would *love* this guy...// "Ahem... What goods, in particular, do you offer for trade, if I may ask?" Annoyed, Sophie peered over the lens of the camera at the crowd that was starting to gather behind Bashanto, waving gleefully to her and making gestures behind the man's back that would *have* to be edited out. She gestured furiously at them to get out of her shot, and one grubby five-year-old stuck out her tongue at her.
Bashanto's face lit up in a gnarly, toothy, insincere grin. "Oh I'm glad you asked! I've got some fancy cloth from the Drazi worlds, starts at 50-60 credits..." He pulled out a roll of cloth from beneath his serape', stuff that looked like it had been hanging in someone's window until recently. "...Some little Centauri statues-- all complete, if you know what I mean. Used to have some others, but they got broke --- Just 20 credits!" He leered at the camera and waved a many-tentacled doll directly into the lens, while Sophie gaped in shock, "--- and furs from all the known worlds from 120 credits and up..." Bashanto grabbed some kind of hide off one of the nearby storage boxes and began to unravel it, making Sophie flinch at the oily, semi-alive look of it; she expected to see parasites crawling around the edges, and her disgust gave her the necessary impetus to wrap up the interview.
"Okay! That's great! Thanks for explaining that, Mr. Bashanto!" //If Drew *ever* finds out about this, it will be worse than being called Miss Io for the rest of my life!//
"I can get you other stuff too, you know... hard-to-get stuff?" He grinned, oblivious to her distaste, opening his arms wide to take in his little corner of DownBelow. "Just ask for Bashanto!" One of the Lurkers bumped into him, and he raised his arm threateningly at the people trying to get into the camera frame, a scowl deepening on his already fairly-scary face.
"Uh-hunh! That's just... great. Thanks. This is Sophie Tenatta for ISN's Minute in a Moment! ... and we're clear." Sophie snapped off the camera and popped out the crystal, knowing *one* interview that wasn't going to make it on the air. "I told you no free commercial time! What is your *problem*!?"
Bashanto whirled back to the camera from waving off his neighbors, and grinned widely again, unaware that the camera was off. " ... Just ask around..."
8:37 AM
Grey Sector, near Hydroponics
"Dudes. Wanna be on TV?"
Desperation was driving Drew to do strange things. He'd been up for 24 hours straight --- not for the first time, true, but for the first time with a deadline still to be met--- and the need to finish up his interviews was forcing him to consider interview subjects he'd never have *dreamed* of approaching in his right mind. Like the three young men working maintenance, cleaning out the humidifiers near hydroponics in Gray Sector.
"Sure, man!" A hulking blond specimen with multiple piercings blinked into the lens as he put his cleaning net down, looking game but uncertain as to what he was supposed to do.
"I am Drew D'Ambow, with ISN News. We want to ask questions, to get your views --- to get a little second of your time. Are you up for this?"
"Always up for anything. Are chicks gonna see this?" The second young man matched the first in his gray maintenance overalls and eager but confused expression, but was distinguishable from his friend by the bi-level hair cut which he'd dyed white and red, and the tattoo of a snake circling his neck. //That had to hurt....//
"Definitely. Why do you think I got this job?"
"Kewl." The Haircut guy gave Drew a thumbs up as a third young man wandered over to join them, stuck his head directly into the camera lens, then pulled back and began patting himself down. Grinning hugely at Drew, he withdrew a carton of cigarettes from his sleeve, pushing a mass of black hair out of his eyes as he lit one.
"So, you stand over here... yes, next to the tank...."
"Hey, Freddy! Get outta the way. Come over here, man. You don't want to miss this!" The Giant motioned to the smoker impatiently,
"Cooooooooooooooool Whassup?" Freddy croaked, wandering over next to his friend and peering at Drew fuzzily. //Hmm... well, maybe he won't talk....//
The Haircut Guy grinned evilly. "Duuude."
"He's filming us for chicks, man!" Giant straightened, and slicked back his hair, nodding emphatically in Drew's direction while Freddy continued to look puzzled.
"I'm Drew D'Ambow, with ISN News. I'm doing fast interviews to advertise the '36 Hours' on Bab5."
"Whoa, wait," Freddy rasped, putting up his hands. "What does he want us to be doing? Some chicks, man, they're *weird*. I mean, if he wants me to kiss you guys or something... no way, man!!!"
Drew stared at Freddy, wondering where the hell he'd come up with *that* idea from, while the Giant impatiently answered his friend. "Chicks are chicks... whaddya want, anyway?"
Blinking, Drew realized that the Giant was now talking to him instead of Freddy, and slapped his face lightly to wake himself up before he answered. "Just tell the camera what it's like to live on Bab5, and what you do for fun around here."
"Hey, man, I'm *always* up for it." Freddy leered into the camera, more at ease now that he knew he wouldn't have to kiss one of his friends on-camera.
"Oh, like tell him about the hockey game?" the redhead suggested, his eyes gleaming.
"The game!" the Giant and Freddy agreed, muttering, "Good one, man."
"Gimme a second to set this up... and five, four, three, two..." //Game?//
The Giant frowned. "Wait, the game's not totally kosher, y'know?"
Haircut looked stricken. "Dude, you're right." He turned and spoke directly to Drew, looking into the camera. "Hey, forget I said that."
//Forget you said *what*? Game... what can be un-'kosher' about this game?// "Hello, this is ISN's Minute in a Moment. We're here with --- Could you introduce yourselves, please?" //Just get them on camera, edit the stupid parts out later...//
"Yeah. We're not going to talk about the hockey game," the Giant blurted out, looking defiant.
//Hockey... Street hockey? *The* Game? The Zero-Gee Game? That's illegal, that's an urban space myth, that's... Yes! D'Ambow, you have the luck of the devil! // "Why don't you want to talk about the hockey game?"
"I'm Bruce, and this here is Freddy and Jamie," the Giant answered, ignoring Drew's question and gesturing to his compatriots.
Haircut suddenly dope-slapped Freddy, scowling ferociously. "Hey, I'm like, Jesse, man!" Bruce snickered and rolled his eyes, while Freddy coughed on his cigarette smoke.
"Yeah, Jesse, whatever. We play hockey," Bruce went on, contradicting what he'd said five seconds before about not wanting to talk about the game. Drew wasn't sure if he'd forgotten that he'd decided not to talk about hockey, or if, possibly, he was going to stick to hockey and not mention the Game, or...
"Hey, man, why'd'ya hit *me!* *He's* the one who screwed your name up!!!" Freddy whined at Jesse in a low rasp, as Bruce continued to beam into the camera. //The picture of an professional halfback with only half the brains...//
"But only the legal stuff, 'cuz we don't want to get in trouble or anything!" Bruce said loudly, over his friends' fast-developing argument.
"Cool. So, you guys work here on Bab5, and you play hockey here? What *kind* of hockey?" //Someone, please, just answer the question, gentlemen... if you're capable of remembering what it was...//
Jesse was rolling his eyes at the very insulted Freddy. Suddenly, he suddenly reached up and over to dope-slap Bruce, making the giant turn and scowl at Jesse as the redhead said, "There, you happy?" to Freddy.
"Hey!"
Freddy grinned, his face lighting up with goofy glee. "Cooooooool."
"The Hockey Game. Dudes. What about it?" //I think I saw this comedy routine on Rebo and Zooty last week... or possibly some of the New Three Stooges...//
"Nothing about it, Forget we said anything. Dude, where are the chicks?" Jesse asked, looking around like he expected them to suddenly appear in Grey Sector.
"The kind of hockey where you hit this little black thing with a long stick until it goes in the hole," Freddy answered, taking another toke on his cigarette and assuming a very knowing expression.
Bruce perked up again. "It's totally intense! There's nothing like it!" He paused for a second, then added, "Well, except a hot chick..."
"Who do you play against?" They obviously knew *something* about the illegal, clandestine much-rumored Babylon 5 street hockey game; but just as obviously, one of the few facts they had a good grasp upon was the extent of its illegality.
"Yeah. We don't do the illegal hockey. 'Cause it would be bad." Freddy was now apprehensive, shoving his dark hair back with both hands, including the one holding the cigarette.
Bruce was beginning to look nervous. "But we're always _real_ careful to play by *all* the rules!"
Jesse nodded in agreement, his thin face going serious. "Totally, rules, like what he said. 'Cause otherwise, you know, Garibaldi gets on us and that's bad."
"I've heard this about him." Drew grinned and shook his head. "And the rules would be...?"
Bruce looked stuck, his eyes blank. "Oh... uh... you know... about not letting anyone get hurt and all..." He shrugged weakly, and smiled at the camera, looking trapped. "Just the rules..."
"And wearing gear and only playing where it's authorized, and that stuff." Jesse was clearly the brains of the trio, Drew realized. // Not that that is saying a great deal... If any of them have ever wore protective head gear for *anything*, I will give my camera to Sophie as a congratulations present!//
"Yeah, what he said," Bruce echoed, looking relieved.
Freddy chimed in with, "The rules, man. The rules."
"Totally. The rules." Jesse repeated, looking proud of himself.
"Uh-hunh." Drew shook his head, torn between triumph and disbelief at finding the three goofballs willing to talk about their crimes. "Where do you play? Is there a rink?"
Bruce blanked. He could see the neurons misfiring behind the blond giant's eyes. "Uh..."
"Yeah. We play in the sink." Freddy had allowed his hair to fall back in his face, and he blew a smoke ring from behind it, none of his features visible except for his mouth.
Jesse turned and glared at Freddy again, then slapped him upside his head. Again. "Rink, dude. Rink!" He turned back to the camera, clarifying for the audience, "And, like, we would, but there's no ice here."
"That's what I *said*! Sink! Jeez, man..."
Bruce smiled happily, apparently following the conversation just fine again. "Right. No ice!"
"So we, like, play in the corridors -- when we're, like, allowed." Jesse's expression was a mixture of cunning and nervousness that made him look like a weasel. //A striped weasel, with that hair....//
"Just where the Chief says we can!" Bruce threw in, bobbing his head so his whole upper body moved with him.
"Any chance I could get to see a game?" //Garibaldi is going to *love* this...//
"No!" Bruce's look of bunny-in-the-headlights was echoed by the weasel-caught-in-a-trap expression on Jesse's; Freddy made a little croaking sound and then started wheezing again.
"Yeah, what he said!" Jesse backed his friend.
"No!" The horrified sound must have come from Freddy, although Drew wasn't sure; and his two friends stared at him a moment, then went from trapped-animal expressions to Totally Innocent Doofus expressions.
"Uh... I mean... uh..." Bruce's grasp of Interlac was failing him, so Jesse jumped in again.
"He means, we haven't got one scheduled, 'cause we can only do it when's it scheduled and, like, allowed."
The relief on Bruce's face was *almost* painful to see. "Yeah!"
"Ah-ha. Okay. Not a problem, then." Drew sighed, realizing that that was as much as he was going to get out of them about the Game. Maybe later, if he bought them a few beers, they'd start talking again. "So, where do you go to meet women here on Bab5?"
"The Dark Star, dude!" Jesse's eyes lit up like the neon outside the bar.
Bruce's eyes got bigger, and his voice rose squeakily. "Yeah! They've got some seriously hot babes!" Drew wondered if any of them had ever actually been *inside* the bar for a second --- then decided they hadn't as they kept talking.
"*Major* babes! And you can pick 'em up in the Zocalo but you gotta be, you know, careful," Jesse added, looking wise.
//As wise as your average thirteen-year-old...// "Careful?" Drew asked, realizing he had no idea what Jesse was referring to.
"Yeah, careful. Right, Freddy?" Bruce elbowed Freddy, who swayed on his feet and hiccuped suddenly.
"Yeah, careful. Like, you pick up a Narn chick and she don't wanna be picked, you're gonna be in a *world* of hurt, know what I'm saying?" Jesse elaborated, shoving his hands in his pockets and wiggling his eyebrows.
"Gotcha! Yes, I understand." Drew was still blinking in shock at the idea of one of the trio actually _trying_ to hit on a Narn, when Freddy abruptly keeled over with another hiccup, then lay on his back calmly staring upward. "Is he all right?"
"Ah, he's fine. Does that a lot." Bruce shrugged, and Jesse didn't even look at Freddy as the giant suddenly turned to him. "Ew! You pick up Narn chicks? That's *nasty*, man!"
Jesse shook his head and snickered. "Dude, have you *heard *about Narn chicks?"
"No... what? Give!" Bruce responded, interest caught.
" Duuude..." Jesse rolled his eyes expressively, then refocused with a leer. "Like here -- man, it's the best!"
Bruce shook his head in disbelief and envy. "Oh, wow, man! I gotta find me one of them..."
"So, what about the Centauri? Do the Narn beat them up?" //I am not going to be on the station when this airs, believe it....//
"Ooooh, what if you had a Narn chick *and* a Centauri chick..." Now that he had the idea in his head, Bruce seemed loath to let it go. Jesse's eyes were also glazing in brainless hormone-induced happiness, and Drew snapped his finger as them to get their attention.
"Yo, dudes, focus. On the beating up part, for second. Is that a problem? Are there lots of fights?" //Have to salvage *something* from this...//
"Beating? Oh, yeah...." Bruce yanked himself back to reality reluctantly.
"Dude, like, constantly. They beat up on each other, Security shows up... Man, it's better than vids." Jesse snorted in amusement, waving his arms in enthusiasm, and Bruce gave one of his emphatic nods again.
"Yeah, man. All the time! Have you seen the Drazi? They beat _each other_ up! Man that's warped!"
"*Way* warped. Out there!" Jesse said in agreement.
"But you like it here anyway?"
Jesse and Bruce both blinked, seeming stunned he had to ask. "Oh, yeah. You can't see action like this anywhere else!" Bruce pointed out.
"Like of course. It's the best. Duh." Jesse rolled his eyes again then he and Bruce both started snickering.
"Cool. Anything else you want to tell the people back on Earth about Babylon 5?" //What was I _thinking_ of? Jesu...//
The two of them exchanged glances, lifted their arms, and waved sheepishly to the camera, chorusing, "Hi, Mom!"
"And uh... yeah: Keep the faith, dudes!" Bruce made a little surfer's wave to the camera, Jesse muttered "Good one, man!" and Drew restrained himself from collapsing over the camera with a major effort.
"Awesome. T'ank you very much, gentlemen. This is Drew D'Ambow, for ISN's Minute in a Moment...."
12:42 PM
B5 Remote ISN Site Editing Facilities
Sophie raced down the hall to the ISN Editing Rooms, nearly colliding with a few of Cynthia's techs as she came around the corner, apologizing and swearing as she threw open the door to the Bureau's satellite feed mixing booth. "Sorry!" she called down the hall, then slammed the door shut. Ignoring Drew, already seated in front of one of the mixing boards, she fumbled for her crystals in her camera case and powered up the other cutting computer while cursing under her breath.
"Oversleep?" D'Ambow didn't turn to look at her, his eyes fixed on the bank of monitors in front of him as he backed up his tape, then adjusted the color feed on the screen.
Sophie didn't answer him, too worried about the editing still to be done to waste any time on finding a comeback. She *had* overslept--- overslept by more than an hour. Now she only had three in which to edit down ten interviews into broadcast-quality data. //Oh God, oh God, oh *God* why didn't I pay more attention the last time Margo edited my interviews --- breathe. Relax. Relax.// Sophie stuck a sound plug in her ear, adjusted it carefully, then let all the air out of her lungs before inhaling deeply.
//Relax. It's fine. You are a journalist. You know what you're doing. The computers do all the hard work these days, and your interviews stand on their own. Just... don't screw up.// She stole a glance at Drew, and took some meager satisfaction in the drawn, red-eyed appearance of the other reporter. // He might have been here longer, but he's in no better shape. You still have that shot.// She glanced up at the screen, and felt her shoulders slump as she recognized the diplomatic aides to the Minbari and Centauri ambassadors on the monitor. //How did he pull that off? Did he get them drunk? Or did he bribe somebody... forget him. You're not competing against him, you're shooting for your personal best, Sophia. And that's better than he'll do on his best day.//
Slipping the first data crystal in and taking a sip of the terrible coffee-substitute the staff had on hand, Sophie grimly focused on cleaning up her recordings, on shining and polishing them into the kind of work that would get her a chance at the anchor desk she'd been dreaming of since she was eighteen, and all the respect and glory that went with it.
Drew backed up the recording for the third time, realizing he'd missed the moment to clip out the background noise *again*, and ground his jaw, desperately trying to wake up. Two hours of sleep was not enough. He kept missing things, like the color bleed on the last interview, the bleed that nearly went into the final copy. //They never would have aired that... and Sophie would never have let you hear the end of it if you'd allowed a journeyman's error like that to get by.// He finished the sound check, then rubbed at his face again, feeling the stubble along his jaw and the puffiness around his eyes, grateful that he'd recorded all of his lead-in feeds *before* he'd gone out to get the interviews. He felt like hell, knew he looked like it, but it would be worth it, completely worth it, if he managed to beat out Sophie and catch the eye of the brass with the interviews.
The problem was he didn't have enough.
Seven of the twelve interviews he'd done were fine; they'd required only basic editing, some double-checking, a sound-patch on one where a machinist's drill had cut in near the end. The interviews with the attache's and the Dark Star strippers were especially good, guaranteed to get attention. But the last five....
Two were completely unusable for technical reasons; things he should have caught at the time, but didn't. //Too little sleep, and I didn't check the camera closely... hell, I'm a reporter, not a tech.// Drew grimaced, resisting the urge to pound his head against the console. //This is the stuff the cameramen get big bucks for! I get big bucks for being charming and witty and making people talk to me, damnit! They're two separate jobs, why am I trying to do both?!//
Okay, that wasn't strictly fair --- he knew a few reporters who took pride in knowing the latest directorial tricks and writing their own copy, as well as chasing down the stories themselves. But only a few. //Ivor Trivenka. Robin Deane. Jake Llewes. Jake... If he were here, I could con him into finishing the edit, and get some *sleep*... and he would've heard the buzz on the last sound tape before I walked away from that interview. Hell....// It was all Cynthia's fault. If she'd been willing to give them only one more day, he could have slept, interviewed, edited, and presented her with perfect broadcast-worthy commercials *without* losing his mind.
As it was.... Drew's eyes tried to drift shut again, and he cracked a yawn before reaching for more of his caffienated swill. As it was, he had three interviews to go, and they were the lousiest three of the series. Boring, stilted... and in one case, just too damn *weird* to air. But they were all he had to work with, so he was going to have to perform editing miracles in order to make them usable. //Never again will I bitch while the techs check the angles and the lights... never again will I ask a cameraman to get my good side... never again will I ever, ever tell one of those guys what I want it to look like when we're done...//
A whimper from Sophie distracted him from his gloom, and he glanced up at her monitor with fuzzy inattention. What was she whining about? The picture was perfect, the subject was cute --- //damn cute, kinda like that intern back on Luna// --- and it wasn't running overtime, from the count in the corner. //She'll probably get them all finished, and Cynthia will love them, and there goes my chance to meet the V.P. of programming....// Sophie's head suddenly dropped forward with a
*"You know, I ran into a Narn in this bar last night-- just, like _sitting_ there drinking and watching the show. Just like a person!"* The girl onscreen continued to smile brightly and blankly, her happy, cheery voice burbling inanities without a pause. Sophie made a half-hearted attempt to slap the sound off, but Drew easily deflected her as he watched in wonder.
"Where did you _find_ her?" he asked as he watched, mesmerized.
"Shopping in the Zocalo." Sophie stared at the screen with a defeated glare. "Where else?"
*"...I think it's *totally*, like, important to have a place like this where people can actually, like, *see* the aliens and learn that they're like real people too and all...."*
"I'm s'prised they let her off the planet without a warning label," he muttered, aghast and amused. "'Please! Do not feed the tourist!'"
Sophie punched the OFF button, hard, and Wonder Girl disappeared from the screen. "Who are you to talk?" She pointed at his editing screen, and Drew groaned half-heartedly. The completely Dull Couple were on, in matching "Io is OK!" T-shirts, staring into the camera like startled rabbits. "Those two look like they expect to be a main course for the Narn lunchroom!"
"I was desp'rate," Drew growled defensively, then slumped backward in his chair. "*Really* desp'rate." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "If I live through this, I swear, I am goin' to superglue Cynthia's keyboard solid before her next deadline."
"I'll help," Sophie mumbled, laying her head down on top of her arms. She stared at his interview a while longer, while Mr. and Mrs. Earthling attempted to articulate their thoughts, and she muttered, "Just turn it off, Drew, it's hopeless."
"It can't be hopeless. Maybe, with some background music---"
"It'll play like a funeral no matter *what* music you set it to."
Mrs. Earthling was startled by a passing Drazi, her mouth pursing up in annoyance, and Drew felt his shoulders slump. He stabbed at the OFF button and then leaned back in his chair, defeated. "I'm screwed."
"You're screwed," Sophie agreed. "I'm screwed. We're both screwed." She glared at the blank screens and grumbled, "Cynthia will get her editor to cut'n'splice some bits out of her finished show, and they'll air those as the lead-in, and I'll have missed the best shot I'm going to have at impressing the Desk Coordinator back in New York before I'm thirty, and they'll send me back out to Proxima to cover another stupid drama festival, and the next time they remember I'm alive I'll have nothing more to show for myself than a couple of personality profiles...."
"What about me?" demanded Drew, hearing his voice slur back into his native accent, but too tired to control it. "I heard they're t'inking of starting up another talk show next year. D'you t'ink the brass will let me work up my own interviews again, if I can't even get a handful of commercials right?"
"Talk show?" Sophie made a face. "Is that what you want? A talk show?"
"Hey, you may want to be the next Cynthia Torquemann, but I don't want t' have t' work that hard." He sighed. "Niiice, laid-back, get people's views without having t' force them onto camera... maybe a few location shoots, nothing too hard...."
"You don't have enough experience yet."
"Maybe not, but I'd have time to get it if these commercials opened the right doors... hell. Forget it." Drew picked up the data crystal with the last interview on it and overhand shot it toward the recycle box. "It was a nice dream."
"A great dream," Sophie mourned. "Maybe...." She picked up another data crystal and slid it into a slot.
*"...Some little Centauri statues-- all complete, if you know what I mean. Used to have some others, but they got broke --- Just 20 credits!"* The wizened, crazy-eyed salesman waggled the naked Centauri doll into the camera, and Drew cracked up as Sophie wailed.
"Doomed. I'm doooooomed...." She sniffled and then burst into tears, exhaustion and frustration finally catching up with her. //No anchorwoman's job, no Maserati, no vacation getaway on Mars... no Galaxy award before I'm forty, no meetings with the President, no time to write a book....// All her plans, all her hopes, all of it going up in smoke because Cynthia was a demanding, manipulative, unbelievably unreasonable bitch.
"Awwww..." Drew pushed her hair out of her face, frowning at her sympathetically, and she pulled away from him, hunching back into her chair and drawing her hair back over her face to hide. "It is not so bad."
"Don't patronize me, D'Ambow. It's horrendous. It's a disaster. It is the *worst* interview ever done in the history of journalism---"
"Ha!" The other reporter snorted, then fumbled through his crystals. "You are wrong, so wrong, Tenatta... watch *this*!" He punched a crystal into the reading slot with a flourish, then hit the ON button and leaned back triumphantly.
*"Duuude."* *"He's filming us for chicks, man!"*
Sophie hiccuped, then blinked. "What the... who...?"
*"What does he want us to be doing? Some chicks, man, they're *weird*. I mean, if he wants me to kiss you guys or something... no way, man!!!"*
"Aiiiiiiiiiighhhhhhhh...." Drew said under his breath, his eyes glazing.
"My... god. They have to be related to Magda. Closely related."
"That was the girl, earlier---?"
"Uh-hunh." Sophie watched in fascinated horror as the three young men on the screen leered, jeered and did everything but moon the camera.
"Probably first cousins." Drew thought about that a second, and then shuddered. "The gene pool is drying up..."
*"I'm Bruce, and this here is Freddy and Jamie."* One of the young men slapped the one who had *not* been talking, and interrupted, *"Hey, I'm like, Jesse, man!"*
Sophie giggled. "Oh, this is awful. This is really, really... bad."
"Unsalvageable," Drew agreed, shaking his head sadly.
"Trash."
"Total, complete, absolutely..." Drew snickered at one of Bruce's bone-headed hockey comments, then couldn't stop.
The two reporters howled for the next five minute straight as the Three Stooges gave the worst interview in broadcast history, and for five minutes after it was over, unable to stop. "Oh, oh, ohhhh...." Sophie choked, wiping her eyes. "Ohhh, we're bad. We're really bad."
"We are beyond bad, baby. We are *execrable*," Drew chuckled, trying to get his breath back.
"'Narn chicks,'" Sophie muttered, then giggled again.
"'What if you had a Narn chick *and* a Centauri chick...'" Drew mimicked, then added in a high, airy falsetto, "'Cause, they're, like, _real_ aliens, and all! And people should get to *see* them---'"
"Don't, don't, don't...." Weakly, Sophie tried to hit him, her stomach hurting too much to keep laughing. "Stop. I can't take any more!"
"If Cynthia _ever_ saw these---"
"We could kiss our careers good-bye." Sophie sighed, her arms still wrapped around her stomach. "Not that we can't right now."
"Hunh." Drew's eyes narrowed. "Hmmmmmm...."
"What?"
"I t'ink I have an idea."
Sophie sat up straight. "Does it involve fixing Cynthia's little red wagon?"
"Her little red wagon, her hovercraft, *and* her private shuttle," Drew answered, his eyes feverishly bright. "It is soooo simple, I do not know why we did not see it before...."
3:00 PM
"Both of us." Sophie clasped her hands together and smiled sweetly at Cynthia. "We had to work together to give ISN the quality of reporting it deserved. After all, it's the work that matters most, right?"
Cynthia gazed at Sophie for a long moment, then at Drew, who raised one lazy eyebrow at her. The anchorwoman nodded, her eyes assessing them both coolly. "Of course. I'm glad you recognized that. Too many reporters would let competition get in the way of doing the job."
"Not us," Drew sang out, then uncoiled onto his feet. "If that is all, Cynthia, we could really use some rest...."
"Certainly. Go, relax. You've earned it." Cynthia managed to keep the smile in place until the duo staggered out of her office, then turned back to the screen and grimaced. "Damn." Too bad the spots were too good to trash; too bad they hadn't killed each other in the process of getting the interviews. Well, at least she had some decent commercials for the special... and next time, she'd make damn sure to separate them.
"Your place or mine?"
"Whose is closer?"
Fourteen hours later when Sophie's alarm went off, she woke up just enough to croak, "Alarm, cease," then dropped back into unconsciousness. Drew turned toward her, his arm falling over her face. Sophie wrinkled her nose and slapped it back, pushing Drew away, and he slowly rolled over and off the bed.
He didn't even wake up.
On to Prologue 3 -- Jackals, Vultures and Doves (Margo and Wally)
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Cynthia's Temporary Office
ISN Bureau Remote Site Viewing RoomBrown Sector, Level 22
"Marvelous," Cynthia commented, tilting her head to the side, then nodding judiciously. "Truly. Very good work. The spots you've designed are guaranteed to draw the viewers into the special." She flicked off the set and then turned back to the demurely seated and smiling Sophie, and the casually lounging Drew. "My only question is: who gets the credit?"
J. Michael Strazynski and Babylonian Productions.