(Do you want to be President? Then put your hand on the book and say I do....good, let’s eat!) G’Kar
Exert from No compromises--lead in directly to the story. Enjoy!!!!!!!
Who’s on First
______________
By M.C.Hart
Chelbingo@yahoo.com
The station buzzed with activity. This is nothing unusual in itself considering the number of ships that traveled to and fro in a twenty four hour period. The air of the situation was festive even after considering the near fatal attempt on the newly appointed President’s life. An ISN report filtered across many of the monitors throughout the Zocalo.
“In other news, ISA president John Sheridan announced his intent to hold a baseball game on Babylon Five. According to President Sheridan, the game is an attempt to bring a sense of camaraderie to the recently assembled government. We were told that teams will include both human personnel and alien representatives. The Mimbari Ambassador and first lady of the ISA also informed out reporters that the attending humans and aliens will enjoy a old fashioned cook-out prior to the impending ball game----”
- - - - -
“Delenn, hurry up we’re going to be late.” John Sheridan complained as he searched through his quarters relentlessly. It has to be here, I just had it the other day.
“John, I’m not so sure about this---this, what did you say it was called again?” his wife’s voice filtered in from the bedroom.
“A jersey, Delenn. It’s a baseball jersey.” He returned, giving up his search momentarily. “It’s the one I wore when I was in college.” He walked into the bedroom, sliding back the door. He couldn’t keep the grin from his face as he saw his wife standing in front of the mirror, eyeing herself up and down. She was dressed in his baseball jersey and a pair of sweat pants. The look on her face was priceless as she gaped at her reflection.
“I know your not used to wearing pants, but I think that looks very good on you.” He said chuckling as he walked toward her. “You look like a ball player.” He teased, laying his hands on her shoulders from behind.
She glanced at him in the reflection, taking in his attire. He was dressed similar to her, with the exception of the pants. He wore what he had called baseball pants, they barely came past his knees. “I do not think I wish to look like a ball player.” she said distastefully. “This is not dignified accouterments for the wife of the President. Everyone will stare at me.”
John laughed, turning her around. “I’m the President, look how I’m dressed.”
“Exactly.” She said, giving him a look.
He threw up his hands. “Everyone that’s playing is dressed like this, Michael made sure of that. Trust me, your just as dignified wearing that as you are---wearing nothing.” He finished smiling.
“Your not helping the argument much.”
“Look, let’s just go, we should have been there ten minutes ago.” He glanced around the bedroom. “Delenn, have you seen my baseball cap? I’ve looked everywhere for it, I can’t play without that cap.”
“The cap enables you to play baseball? That is strange. Does it effect your balance, or your ability to play? I’m not sure I understand the concept?” She said as she moved to the closet opening the door, while Sheridan glanced along the bed and down by the dresser. “I’m amazed that so much would ride on a small piece of headgear.”
“It’s more of a good luck charm, I’ve always worn it. Call it tradition.” He said, distracted in his search.
Delenn cleared her throat, drawing his attention. She stood holding the tattered ball cap. Sheridan grinned, moving to take it from her. “There it is, where was it?” he asked, placing it on his head with flourish.
“In the closet. I got tired of picking it up.”
“You were hiding it.” He accused, adjusting the bill.
“Call it what you will.” She muttered as he lead here out of the bedroom and toward the door. “I’m not sure I understand the connection between humans and hats.”
“Well, look at it this way. Mimbari have bone crests, right?” he said. “What do we humans have? Hair, that’s it. Maybe subconsciously we’re jealous of your crests and to compensate for it, we wear hats.” He grinned at her, proud of himself. Delenn glared at him.
“Well, maybe not.” He muttered. They stepped out into the hall, then Sheridan snapped his fingers, cursing lightly as he jumped back inside before the door closed. Delenn was perplexed and slightly self conscience standing in the middle of the corridor, but within a moment, he was back smiling broadly. He swung the bat and glove over his shoulder as he offered his wife his arm.
- - - - -
The baseball diamond was full of humans and aliens alike as they entered the arena. Delenn held back slightly, but with John’s promoting, she finally gave in and walked firmly beside him as they threaded their way through the groups. Several beings acknowledged Sheridan and her with nods and gestures. To Delenn’s amazement, many of them were dressed similar to her and John. He grinned at her as he saw her reaction and leaned over whispering. “I told you so.”
Garibaldi stood amid the clustering aliens and humans and began to ring what to Sheridan looked very similar to the Mimbari triluminary. As they stepped closer, he frowned. “Delenn, is that what I think it is?” he questioned hastily.
“Yes.” Was all the reply he received.
Michael grinned from ear to ear as he caught sight of Delenn. She apparently was remembering the conversation they had a few days ago. He had been slightly desperate, he wanted this to be perfect, but he couldn’t seem to locate a dinner triangle. When the solution struck, he had rushed off to find her, asking if he could be allowed to utilize something Mimbari for the ceremony. She had agreed, but he wouldn’t go into detail over what he wanted, for fear of her turning him down. So instead, he took it upon himself, contacting the crew of a white star. It was there that he found what he sought. In his mind, he was blending the two cultures together. He hoped like hell she thought the same way. After all this was the woman who lead the war against earth over a different misunderstanding.
Delenn couldn’t believe what she saw. He stood there, striking the triluminary in a very un-religious manner. So this had been what he was asking. She was going to have to learn to ask humans to elaborate more on their requests in the future. Garibaldi grinned at her a bit uncomfortably as they stepped toward him. Laying down the triluminary, he returned his attention to his cooking before she got within speaking distance. He was cooking over what appeared to be a huge table with flames flickering periodically above the surface. The table had drawn her attention, but what really became the focus was the way Mister Garibaldi was dressed. She could see garments that almost matched Johns under what appeared to be a long robe, that tied behind him. Stark white it stood out in the crowd, draping down past his knees with some type of writing on the front that she couldn’t see completely from this angle. On his head was the biggest, fluffiest white hat she had ever seen. It nearly covered his ears and eyebrows as he grinned at her.
“Nice outfit, Ambassador.” Garibaldi said grinning as he turned toward her.
Delenn read the words across his abdomen out loud. “Kiss the Cook?” she looked up at him bewildered.
Garibaldi laughed. “It’s just something I picked up a few years ago on earth, haven’t had much of a chance to wear it till now. It’s not meant to be literal.” He added seeing the look on her face.
“I see.” He was certain she didn’t.
“Good thing too.” Sheridan muttered grinning. “Not many people would be eating if that was the price for the food, regardless of how good you cook.”
“I’ve known some women that would disagree with that statement.” Garibaldi said with mock hurt as G’kar sauntered over.
“What statement?” he inquired.
“Nothing, just a difference of opinion.”
G’kar pulled on the jersey he wore. “This is tight.” He complained to Garibaldi. “You didn’t make it big enough. I like it, but a Narn should not be so constricted, our clothes should allow us to breath.”
“It’s the best I could do, G’kar. I can’t help it your so damn big. Deal with it.” Garibaldi turned his attention back to the fire. G’kar followed him with his eyes as he picked up a long, two foot fork and proceeded to adjust several small cylindrical objects that were being slowly consumed by the flames.
“What is that?” he demanded, eyes wide as Garibaldi glanced at him. He couldn’t be cooking what he thought he was!
“It’s a hot-dog.”
“A hot-dog? It doesn’t look like the earth mammal.” He said hastily. “It looks like----” he glanced quickly to Delenn who stood listening. “Well, ---I mean it reminds me of----”
Sheridan started laughing. “No, G’kar it’s not what your thinking.”
Delenn looked back at him frowning. “What are you talking about?”
John looked at her quickly, not sure how to respond, G’kar saved him the trouble as he leaned over and began whispering to the confused Mimbari. Delenn’s eyes widened in shock as she glanced again at the cylindrical objects.
Sheridan was about to inquire what was actually said to her, when Garibaldi shoved a hot-dog into his hand, then proceeded to give on to Delenn and G’kar as well. Picking up the catsup, Sheridan covered his and took a bite as Delenn and G’kar looked at him mortified.
“What?” he asked around a mouthful.
“I can’t eat this!” G’kar blustered.
“Why not, I’ve been standing here cooking for over an hour, you’d better damn well eat it.” Garibaldi muttered. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Well, look at it.” G’kar said, shoving the hot-dog under Garibaldi’s nose.
“It’s a hot-dog, G’kar what do you want?”
“But it looks like---like--you know what I mean.” He insisted as Garibaldi started to smile.
“Yeah, just pretend it’s Londo’s. I promise it won’t upset your stomach.”
G’kar looked at it distastefully, then glanced at Delenn. John had actually coaxed her into at least tasting it. He waited a moment for her reaction. She smiled slightly. “It is surprisingly---different.” She said softly, remembering the last time she had tried a human delicacy called popcorn that Garibaldi had insisted she would like.
“A good different or a bad different.” G’kar pressed.
“Just--different.” She muttered, glancing at the hot-dog and bun in her hand.
John sighed, reaching for the hot-dog. “If you don’t want it--I’ll eat it.”
She pulled away slightly. “I didn’t say I didn’t want it---it’s just different.” G’kar stared at his, still unsure. Sheridan shrugged and turned back to Garibaldi. This was when Londo Mollari decided to make his entrance.
“Ahhh, Mister President, what is this?” he inquired, holding up an armful of dark black equipment. Delenn grinned at his appearance. He too wore what was now appearing to be the days dress, jersey and ball pants. Unfortunately, the garments somehow didn’t look as attractive on him as it did John. She immediately adverted her eyes to keep from laughing. This would not set well with Mollari and he was apparently trying very hard to go along with this. “I was informed to wear this during the game. Whatever are you going to have me do? This looks like battle gear.” He eyed G’kar uneasily.
Sheridan grinned. “You’re the catcher, it’s for your own protection.”
“Catching what?”
“Balls, Londo.” He said as the Centauri’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you read up on the reference material I gave you?”
“I am a busy person, being a Prime Minister and all.” He retorted.
Garibaldi glanced at Sheridan with a smirk, then spoke. “We know what to do, just follow our instructions, we wouldn’t lead you astray now would we?” Londo looked at him uncertain G’kar quietly turned his back to the conversation momentarily. He held the catsup bottle as he generously applied it to the hot-dog. He began to smile as the thought played out in his mind. This was too good, he knew exactly how to shock Mollari.
“I know you mean well, but all this---equipment? Is it really necessary?”
Sheridan shrugged, pointing to the helmet Londo held. “If you don’t want to get your head knocked off, it is.”
“But I cannot wear this--it will ruin my crest!”
“Suit yourself, but I suggest you wear it.” Garibaldi said, glancing at the grill. “John’s pitching.” Sheridan looked at him sharply.
“Yesssss----I’ll just suit myself.”
“You hungry? Want one?” Garibaldi asked.
“One what?”
G’kar stepped forward quickly. “I have one right here, just for you Mollari.” He smiled broadly shoving the hot-dog forward. As Londo’s eyes fell on what was being presented to him, he gasped, taking a quick step back. “What have you done?!” he hissed, his eyes locked on what appeared to be a severed bloody tentesticle.
“Delenn likes it.” G’kar said happily.
Londo shot a mortified look at Delenn.
Sheridan rolled his eyes. “I knew we should have stuck with steaks.”
“It’s a hot-dog for god sakes!” Garibaldi said frustrated. “Just a damn hot-dog!”
“Get that thing out of my face, G’kar!” Londo waved him away quickly. “I have no desire to eat that thing, hot or cold.” HE said with force.
“It’s a hot-dog, it’s made of ---meat of something.” Sheridan tried to explain. It was Michael’s turn to shoot him a strange look, he didn’t take kindly to people insulting his food and that seemed to be all they were doing right now. “When humans have ball games---hot-dogs are the traditional food.”
“You eat that---thing, very often?” Londo inquired, watching Sheridan cover another in catsup, then wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. “Bahh---why?”
“Because it tastes good.” Garibaldi piped in.
“I find that difficult to believe.” G’kar muttered.
“The texture is somewhat strange.” Delenn added, “but it does have an appealing flavor.” She nodded to G’kar. “You should try it, I believe you would enjoy it.”
“I don’t think I could.” G’kar shook his head, glancing down at the hot-dog in his hand. “It is cooked. It would upset a Narn intestinal track.”
“Give me that!” Garibaldi reached out and snatched the apparently offending hot-dog from the Narn. “I’m not going to stand by any longer and let you bad mouth my food. You don’t want it, fine! Starve!” he took a huge bite, glaring at the Narn.
Sheridan chuckled. “I think their very good, if that counts for anything.”
“I don’t recall hearing anyone else complaining.” Delenn added diplomatically.
“I’ve always said, you can’t ever please a Narn.” Londo said smiling.
G’kar took a deep breath, glaring at Londo. “Give me a ---hot-dog, Mister Garibaldi. I would like to try one after all.”
Michael sighed, shaking his head. He wished he was closer to the wall, he wanted to bash his head against it. This was insane, he didn’t understand how a simple cook-out could become so damn aggravating. “If you don’t eat this one, I WILL hurt you.” He whispered as he handed G’kar yet another hot-dog.
“Your not seriously going to eat that.” Londo said stunned. G’kar smiled broadly, “With pleasure,” then took a huge bite as Mollari cringed in horror. “I’m surrounded by barbarians.” He said repulsed at the sight.
“Barbarians, that’s a new one.”
They turned to see Stephen Franklin stepping toward their small group. “I see everyone’s attired appropriately.” He smiled, glancing toward Delenn. “I like the new look. It’s very becoming, down to earth.”
“I tried to tell her that, but what do I know? I’m just the husband.” Sheridan muttered.
“I must admit, I feel slightly uncomfortable, these pants---” She reached down, tugging slightly at the leg. “They feel---strange. I miss my dress.”
“You think those are uncomfortable, try wearing these.” Londo added, gesturing to himself. “I don’t know whether to pull them up or down.”
Garibaldi laughed quietly. “Do you want a hot-dog, Stephen?” he asked after a moment.
Franklin held up his hand quickly. “I came for the game, not a heart attack. You trying to kill me? Those are so full of cholesterol they’d send my body into shock.” He shook his head. “I assume you’re all stuffing your face with as many as you can.”
“Yep.” Sheridan said grinning as Michael nodded.
Stephen watched as G’kar took another bite. “You’ve even corrupted G’kar! Don’t you people realize your eating yourselves into an early grave? This is clogging up your arteries, it’s cholesterol on a bun.”
“I tried to tell them.” Londo muttered.
“Lighten up Stephen. It’s not like we do this everyday.” Garibaldi said defensively. “Your constantly riding us about food, let us live a little before we die.” He still remembered how Franklin had made his life, Sheridan’s and Ivanova’s a living hell for four months.
“You keep eating like this and you WILL be living very little. God Michael, your like the Grim Reaper in a chef hat.”
Sheridan started laughing as Stephen shot him a dirty look. “Sorry---” he muttered.
“That’s right, laugh it up.”
“Why is everyone all of a sudden picking on my food?” Garibaldi demanded. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I cook for this bunch again.” He turned his back to them, grumbling under his breath as he pulled more hot-dogs off the grill.
“Michael, I am grateful for what you’ve done, truthfully. If it wasn’t for your help in this and everything else, I doubt if I could have pulled this off.” Sheridan said quickly. “Besides, I like hot-dogs.”
“Yes, it did have a distinctive flavor.” G’kar added. “I was surprised it tasted so good, regardless of how it looked.”
“Don’t try to make me feel better by kissing up, it won’t work. You’ve done lost free meals for a hell of a long time.” Garibaldi retorted. “Maybe next time you’ll think before you speak. After today, Garibaldi’s Gourmet is officially closed, I’m on strike.”
“You can’t go on strike, you work for me. It’s not in the by-laws.” Sheridan shot back, grinning.
“Then we need to rewrite the by-laws.”
‘Can’t be done,” G’kar said shaking his head. “I just finished them late last night. I can’t change them now.”
“Once it’s written, it’s legal. Your screwed Michael.” Sheridan shook his head. “I’m afraid the President has spoken.”
Garibaldi pointed the huge fork at him. “Your enjoying this way too much, that’s got to be unhealthy.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Just remember pay backs are hell, MISTER President. We’ve got a game and I just happen to be on the opposite team.” He threatened.
“Not to change the subject---” Delenn interjected quickly. “---But I still don’t understand the rules of this base ball game we are going to play.”
“Yessss---do explain this to me. Tell me why I have to wear this again.” Londo replied holding out the equipment.
Sheridan nodded, popping the last of the hot-dog into his mouth, then wiped at his beard. “Ok, it’s really very simple. There’s two opposing teams of nine players. We play nine innings, that’s where we switch sides---from batting to fielding---.”
“When your batting, three strikes your out, three outs then you switch sides.” Franklin added, jumping in enthusiastically to help.
“Right. When you hit the ball you run to first base, from there second, then third. The teams only score if a player gets over home plate.” From the looks of the faces staring at him, Sheridan could tell none of this was sinking in as he sighed. “I really wish you would have read those packets.”
“So we hit the ball? Then run?” G’kar asked confused.
“Yeah.” Sheridan brightened.
“What do we hit the ball with?”
Sheridan reached down to where is bat had been leaning against his leg. He held it up proudly. “With this, it’s a bat---well actually this is a Louisville Slugger. It’s been in my family for hundreds of years. It’s traditionally handed down to the eldest son of each generation.” He glanced toward Delenn, then winked. She smiled softly at his reference to children.
G’kar’s eyes were wide as he admired the bat. “May I see it?” he asked, his voice strangely light as he smiled.
Sheridan handed the bat to him as Delenn drew his attention. “John--it seems to me that this base ball is very similar to the inner workings of the Grey Council.”
“How’s that again?” he asked, trying to figure out how she came to that conclusion. He couldn’t fathom how a base ball game would remotely be similar to the Mimbari ruling council. That had come completely out of left field.
“You said there are nine player and nine innings. There were nine members of the council and the voting continued around in the same manner as you described the base running.”
Sheridan frowned. “Your right, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I got it!” Garibaldi said, snapping his finger quickly. “It’s all because of Jeff! I bet he did it on purpose.”
“You mean that Sinclair formed the Grey Council using the perimeters of base ball? Don’t you think your stretching at bit, Michael?” Sheridan said, not buying it.
“No, look. Don’t you see? It makes perfect sense.” Garibaldi couldn’t understand why they weren’t making the connection, it was as clear as day. “The Grey Council was formed by Valen, right?” he asked Delenn.
She nodded.
“Ok, now I know for a fact how much Jeff hated meetings, but the one thing he hated more than that was base ball. He loathed it, he used to comment on how boring it was.” He grinned wildly. “When he formed the Grey Council, he intermixed it with base ball as an inside joke! He had to get the idea somewhere, right? He pulled the theory behind base ball from his human life and applied the perimeters to the Grey Council.”
“That sounds logical.” Delenn agreed.
Sheridan looked at her shocked. “This makes sense to you?” He demanded, pointing a finger at Garibaldi. “----And you get onto me about babbling?” He shook his head.
“Do you have a better explanation?” she asked, nonplused.
“Well---no. Not off the top of my head.”
“That’s what I thought.” She said smiling.
“How do I get myself into these things?” Sheridan muttered.
Franklin grinned, patting him on the back. “You don’t know when to keep your mouth shut.”
“When in doubt, smile. It has always worked for me.” Londo said proudly. He looked toward G’kar, who was smiling broadly as he watched the Centauri, tenderly caressing the large bat in his hands. “What are you doing G’kar?” he demanded, not completely comfortable with the look.
“Simply admiring this wonderful piece of craftsmanship---the weight is balanced perfectly for swinging.” He closed his eyes, breathing deeply with a content smile on his face. “If I close my eyes, I can almost hear the resounding thump when it strikes the enemy’s head.” He opened his eyes, looking once again at the wide eyed Centauri. “It would make an excellent weapon.” He admitted.
“It’s for base balls----period.” Sheridan interjected harshly, realizing his bat may be used in a very un-sportsman like manner. G’kar laughed as Londo started quickly applying the catching gear to the best of his ability. Franklin bent down, helping him place it correctly as the Centauri glanced toward the Narn.
“I hope this equipment works.” He mumbled.
G’kar held the bat out toward Sheridan, laying it gently over his left arm as he extended it in an almost knightly manner. “Never fear, Mister President. I would not stain the finish of such a wonderful object with unworthy Centauri blood.” He grinned as Sheridan took the bat back slowly. “It would be disrespectful.”
“I’m sure Londo appreciates the thought.” Sheridan added when the bat was once again securely in his possession. “I know I do.”
“Mollari and I are on opposing teams, are we not?” G’kar asked happily.
Garibaldi nodded. “Your with me, G’kar.”
“Excellent.” The Narn began laughing again as he strolled away.
Sheridan glanced toward the smiling Garibaldi. “Why do I get the impression that this is going to be so much more competitive than we thought?”
- - - - -
Corwin glanced from his board to watch his new Captain silently. C&C was all but deserted due to the base ball game preparing to start several decks below. He too had wanted to go, he hadn’t meant to play but he wanted to see the game more than anything. As it stood, it was turning out to be the biggest thing to hit the station since the shadow war. But this was having a completely different impact on the residence. Everyone had been talking about it since President Sheridan had first mentioned it several days ago. Due to the variety and number of Ambassadors that sighed up, Corwin knew it would be incredibly funny. He was certain that most of the players had never heard of a base ball game, much less played it. Unfortunately, it was his shift and he didn’t think the new Captain would understand if her entire command staff disappeared on her.
He had thought she would have at least dropped in, or made some sort of appearance at the game, but Lockley hadn’t left C&C all day, nor did it appear she would anytime soon. She was completely different from Sheridan. In the short time he had watched her, he could tell the difference in her command style. Maybe she didn’t go because she didn’t think she’d be welcome? He thought silently. This is after all her first day. He moved toward her inspired by a thought. “Captain Lockley, if you wish I could watch C&C for a while and you can attend the base ball game. I’ll give you a chance to get to know everyone.”
Lockley glanced up from her desk, looking at him, Corwin forced himself not to squirm under her stare. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
“I don’t do base ball, Lieutenant Commander.” She said finally. “I never have and I never will, besides---,” she gestured to the scattered reports about her desk. “---It’s going to take me at least a month to get on top of everything going on around here.” She shook her head. “I think the base ball game is a waste of time.”
Corwin found himself speaking before he realized it. “The President disagrees, ma’am. He feels that having the game will promote a more relaxed feeling toward him and the new ISA. He believes the game will bring the delegates closer.”
“He would.” She muttered, returning to her work.
Corwin stood a moment, then turned on his heels and moved quickly back to his station. He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Do I subconsciously have a death wish or what?! Nothing like getting on the wrong side of the Captain right from the start. Shot down in the prime of his career, by his own mouth. He doubted he could shove his foot any further down his throat if he tried.
Lockley stared at the reports, not really seeing them as she contemplated what Corwin had said. This station was crazy. She’s realized that from the moment Corwin started briefing her on the activities. It seemed to distort everyone that touched it. It reminded her of an insane asylum where the inmates roamed freely and at the top of the list, John Sheridan.
She should have expected as much.
She still didn’t know why she’d said yes when he asked her to take over command of Babylon 5. She knew better, she knew how he was. He was like a magnet when it came to situations like this. And now this damn base ball game. She wondered if he had done it on purpose, knowing she was due to arrive on station today. No, she was reading more into this than there was. He wouldn’t do that,---yes he would. That was one of the many reasons why they didn’t work. Him and his damn base ball. Now he had the entire station twisted to his way of thinking.
She shook her head disgusted. She’d tried all afternoon not to think about the game, thanks a lot Corwin. She forced herself back to the reports, her eyes scanning them quickly. She stopped suddenly as something caught her eye. Reading it again, a small smile began to form on her features. This was perfect!
She glanced to Corwin as she spoke. “Lieutenant Commander, I have a job for you.” She rose and met him as he started toward her. “How much experience do you have in diplomacy?” she asked.
“Very little actually, Captain.” Corwin admitted wide eyed. “Aside from dealing with freight Captains---”
“Then consider this your first lesson. I need my second in command to be able to handle things in my absence. I’d do it myself, but---well, it’s as good a time as any for you to get your feet wet.” Or drown, but she didn’t voice that.
“It appears that the Drazi are having some internal conflict among their people. Now, according to the station records, Captain Sheridan delegated Commander Ivanova the task of rectifying the problem last time this happened, I now am delegating it to you. Keep me posted on your progress.”
She turned and walked away, leaving Corwin standing stupefied behind her. Pay back for ruining my day, she thought with a grin.
- - - - -
Getting the game actually started was harder than Sheridan and Garibaldi imagined. Garibaldi graciously allowed Sheridan’s team to bat first as he took his players to the field. Stephen and Garibaldi began to assemble everyone in their respective positions.
Sheridan was discovering problems of his own. The only ones that knew how to bat on his team were the humans and there were only three of them, one of which, Zack Allan had yet to appear. So he was left to his own means of showing them the steps. He broke them into small groups, making sure at least one human was there to assist and proceeded to show them the correct way of holding a bat and swinging at an incoming ball. When they still didn’t get it, Sheridan finally resorted to using Delenn as the test subject. Drawing the group together, he stepped back, picking up a ball.
“Ok, hold the bat like I explained.” He said, nodding as she tried to do as he asked. “Higher get it off your shoulder---hold it up, Delenn.”
“I am.”
She stood there awkwardly, the bat swaying slightly above her head. It was the best it was going to get. With a sigh, he nodded. “Now, I’m going to pitch the ball to you. Keep your eye on it, then hit it.”
She nodded.
He lobbed it underhanded gently toward her. It sailed past perfectly in the strike zone, bouncing off the back drop behind her.
“Delenn, you have to swing the bat.” He explained. “Let’s try it again.” Someone pitched the ball back as he twisted it in his hands. “Ready? Swing this time, bring it around and connect with the ball.”
Again she nodded.
“Here goes.” Once again he lobbed it, perfectly toward her. An instant later, she lowered the bat and by sheer luck connected with the ball. It sailed smartly into Sheridan’s gut, doubling him over with a loud “Oufff--” She stared at him wide eyed as he glanced up, rubbing his stomach. “Good hit---” he managed weakly.
Londo grinned, stepping forward. “I would like to try next.”
Sheridan shook his head, waving him off. “No,--I think you got the jest of it--.” He rubbed his stomach again. Damn that hurt, I must be getting old. I don’t remember it being so painful. He walked back to the group, trying not to act as if it affected him much.
“I’m sorry John, I didn’t mean to hit you.” Delenn said quickly.
“It’s my fault, I should have gotten out of the way. I truly didn’t expect you to hit it so damn hard.” He grinned. “I married Babe Ruth.”
“Babe Ruth?”
“I’ll explain later.” He said with a grin. He glanced to Garibaldi as he stepped toward them from the field.
“You ready to go?” Michael asked, fighting a smile.
“Might as well, it’s not going to get any better.”
Garibaldi grinned wildly, nudging him. “Saw what happened. Looks like you’ve got a star hitter there.”
Sheridan returned the expression. “Who’s pitching for you?” he asked, walking back into the field with Michael.
“Matthew, from Medlab. He’s actually pretty good.”
“Is he accurate?’
“Are you?” Garibaldi returned.
“What the hell’s that suppose to mean?” Sheridan demanded, stopping halfway between the pitching mound and home plate.
“Well, why are you asking me about my pitcher?”
“Because if he hits my wife I’ll never hear the end of it. You don't know what I went through just to get her here as it is. This is her first experience with base ball, if she gets hit with a wild pitch that little escapade about that threat against my life will pale in comparison to what she’ll do to me.”
Garibaldi laughed. “Exercising a little self preservation, huh?”
“Damn straight.” Sheridan said nodding. “You just tell him to make sure he doesn’t send any inside. Because if I get kicked out of my bed, I’m going to kick him out of his.”
“I’ll warn him.” Garibaldi reassured as they separated, heading back to their teams. “Good luck, Mister President.” Sheridan waved back at him as the game got underway.
- - - - -
Vir Cotto and Lennier took their assigned seats without question, glancing around the field. “Have you ever seen anything like this played before?” Vir asked, excited.
Lennier shook his head. “Never, but I have done extensive study on base ball over the last few days. It is a very interesting game.” Glancing at Vir, he added. “Did you know that it dates back over three centuries? Humans used to call it---their nation past time in,---I believe it was called the United States. It is a very popular human game. They even paid their players a great deal of money in the past.”
“Just to play a game?” Vir asked amazed.
Lennier nodded. “I did not understand it either, but apparently it was a great honor to be picked for such a position. Perhaps it is similar to the Ambassadors of today.”
“Wow.” Vir muttered astounded. “I never realized when President Sheridan asked Londo to participate, how great an honor it actually was.”
“Nor did I. Truthfully, I had never heard of this base ball, until Mister Garibaldi and Delenn asked us to partake in---what was it called?” Lennier looked confused.
“Ahhh---cheerleading.” Vir said brightly, then he too looked perplexed. “Lennier, what exactly is cheerleading?” He remembered the conversation with Delenn and Mister Garibaldi a few days ago, how he and Lennier had been pulled aside and informed of the said base ball game. He had innocently asked if there was anything that he and Lennier could do to help. That was when Mister Garibaldi ingeniously came up with the idea of them portraying what he called cheerleaders. He had said that the cheerleading position was very important to the teams. But he had neglected to tell them what a cheerleader actually did.
“I did some research on that as well. It seems that it is more of a morale booster than actually taking part in the game. There are several steps that must be followed.”
“Steps? What type of steps?” Vir asked.
“It depends on what type of cheer you are planning.” He paused. “There were several that I explored---” he thought a moment as Vir waited expectantly. “Take for example one called--the Wave. I believe I remember how the schematic ran. Let me demonstrate.” He sat forward, holding out his hands.
“First you start like this---then you move up slightly off your seat, holding your arms out.” He raised slightly, looking at Vir. He continued upward, moving slowly, almost jerking as he tried to imitate the movements he’d seen in the data base.
He stopped mid way off his chair, half bent, arms extended in front of him like a sleep walker. “When I am here, you then rise and follow the same procedure.” Vir rose and started the movements Lennier was making.
Lennier lifted his arms high above his head as he straightened. “Continue until you reach this position.” He stood straight, his arms high above his head. “Then we sit and do it again.” Vir completed his and glanced to Lennier.
“This is cheerleading?”
“Apparently.”
Neither of them heard the snickers from the human three rows up, who had been watching and listening to the exchange. They began again, determined to correctly execute the procedure. Soon other watching, began to catch on as they too joined in.
- - - - -
Corwin’s steps were light, full of bounce as he made his way toward his destination. What started out to be a big mistake in C&C had turned into a great opportunity. He assumed that Captain Lockley chose him for this pristine honor because he had stood up and spoke his mind when she confronted him. He now had his first real diplomatic assignment. Figure out what was up with the Drazi and calm things down. This shouldn’t be too difficult, the Drazi were an easy race to communicate with, they’d never been a problem before. Yes, once before Ivanova had to step in and smooth over something very similar to this and he needed to check the records to see if anything there might help him this time. But right now, he thought he’d stop in, talk to the Ambassador and see what he could come up with first.
Surprisingly he met very few individuals during his route, which would have been unusual but then he remembered the ball game. They were probably all there. Suddenly, he was startled as two Drazi came surging down the corridor, straight at him, the front one screaming something he couldn’t follow. Jumping against the wall, he barely managed to get out of their way as they shot past, around the curve and out of sight. Heart racing, he stared after them, wide eyed.
What was that all about? That definitely was something that didn’t happen everyday, even on Babylon 5! It took him a moment to collect himself as he pulled at his uniform, then sounds began to permeate his bearing. Those couldn’t be screams, he thought quickly, almost stopping. No, they weren’t--were they? What had he stepped into? Not knowing what to expect, but knowing he wasn’t going to like it he forced himself to continue. He started out again. His steps were more hesitant as he moved, he no longer felt so energetic about this.
Moving forward, he noticed a door slightly ajar further on. Crashes assaulted his ears, muffled groans and yes periodically a scream. He swallowed hard, there was definitely a tremendous commotion playing itself out on the other side of that opening. You don’t want to do this, regardless of what Lockley told you, his mind demanded. Remembering the look in the Captain’s eyes, he realized there wasn’t a choice in the matter.
He stopped at the door, it was opened enough for him to almost squeeze through. He didn’t and wouldn’t until he was certain of what was going on across the threshold. Leaning forward, he glanced inside, then pulled his head back quickly as a chair came flying past the opening, crashing against the wall with a loud clang. Corwin glanced around quickly to see if anyone had seen him jump. He’d taken a couple steps back on sheer reflex as the object sailed past his head. This was insane!
The door sprang open unexpectedly as several Drazi citizens poured out in a mingle around him, shoving him sideways. He grunted as the bodies pinned him harshly against the wall, they were completely oblivious to his presence. They were all yelling and talking so loudly that he couldn’t make anything out in the cacophony of voices. Shoving, punching and kicking at each other they continued, down the corridor and around the corner, their voices echoing on every side of him. What the hell was going on with the Drazi? He pushed off the wall and started after them, but three steps later he stopped. It was best not to go into this blind. He needed to examine those records and he needed to examine them now! He turned on his heels and hurried back to C&C.
- - - - -
“I still think you’d better put that helmet on Londo.” Garibaldi suggested as he explained how to stand behind the plate to the Ambassador.
Londo glanced at the catcher mask and helmet laying beside him distastefully as he shook his head. “No prominent Centauri has ever covered his head in public, I do not plan to start now, Mister Garibaldi.”
“No, Centauri in his right mind would play a catcher in a base ball game without one.” Garibaldi retorted, jerking a thumb toward the pitching mound. “Especially with someone as rusty in pitching as he is.” He glanced to the pitchers mound as he saw Zack Allan run out to Sheridan. It’s about time he got here, he thought. Truthfully he didn’t know if Sheridan was rusty or not, but he couldn’t pass up such a grand opportunity to rib Londo.
“What actually does this “rusty” mean?” Londo asked dubiously.
Garibaldi shrugged, acting as if he was brushing it off as he continued to bait him. “Wild, uncontrollable, unpredictable--you know what I mean.” He said off handed, fighting a grin. “If I were you, I’d wear all the equipment I could get.”
Londo had started to squat down as Garibaldi had explained, but when he heard this, he rose again and stepped from behind the plate. “Let me understand this---he is going to throw the ball to me--”
“Not actually to you.” Michael interrupted. “The principle behind pitching is that the catcher is behind the plate more as a target, it gives him something to throw at. He’s going to be throwing at you, not to you.”
“I’m not sure I want to be the catcher, after all.” Mollari said shaking his head.
“Well, it’s too late now, come on get up there. He needs to warm up.” Garibaldi motioned him back to the plate. “Squat down, come on Londo.” Mollari looked at him a moment, then glanced out to the pitchers mound. Sheridan was watching them silently.
“Are you ready?” Sheridan asked loudly as he stood hands on hips.
Garibaldi waved. “Yeah, he’s ready.” He returned in the same tone.
“I am not.” Londo said quickly as Garibaldi stepped back, giving them room.
“Get your glove up, get ready, watch the ball.” Michael said smiling. This was great. He would have paid good money to see Londo squirm like this.
He watched as Sheridan wound up then released the ball. Londo missed it completely, his glove wasn’t even close. It slammed him directly in the chest, plowing him backwards onto the ground. G’kar was laughing loudly as Michael tried to cover his snicker as he hurried to the downed Centauri. Londo laid there, feet slightly in the air, shocked. Sheridan jogged in from the pitching mound as Garibaldi leaned over the stunned Mollari. “You alright?” he asked calmly.
“He hit me!” Londo sputtered. Garibaldi snickered slightly as he offered his hand, helping Mollari to his feet. By then Sheridan had arrived, looking Londo up and down.
“You alright?” he asked, slightly concerned.
“You hit me!” Londo repeated glaring at Sheridan. He couldn’t believe that he had been hit by the ball, this wasn’t suppose to happen! He was the Prime Minister of Centauri Prime, he did not get hit with--base balls.
“Why the hell didn’t you catch it, then?” Sheridan asked, when he realized that Mollari wasn’t injured. God, he wasn’t sure if he’d survive this game without going crazy. This was suppose to be fun. “That’s what the gloves for Londo. You catch the ball and it won’t hit you.”
“I explained that to him.” Garibaldi muttered, grinning in spite of himself. He wished he’d thought to record this, it was classic.
“I had the glove up, just like Mister Garibaldi suggested and you hit me.” He said defensively.
“It was a perfect pitch.” Sheridan argued back. “If you would have moved your glove just a hair, you would have caught it. Keep your eye on the ball.”
“How can I keep my eye on the ball when you are rusty and uncontrollable.” Londo returned, tossing Garibaldi’s words at him.
“What? That pitch was straight across the plate, otherwise it wouldn’t have hit you.” He returned, glaring at Garibaldi, knowing exactly were those words had come from. Garibaldi looked quickly to the outfield as if checking the position of the players. Sheridan sighed. “Just get behind the plate and watch the ball, Londo.” He turned and started to head back to the pitching mound, shooting Garibaldi another look. “I didn’t even throw the damn thing that hard.” He muttered.
He stepped back to the mound, glaring at Mollari. “Are you ready?” he yelled.
“Yes.” Mollari returned, but he didn’t sound very convincing.
Sheridan wound up, then pitched. This time Mollari actually caught the ball. He rose quickly, grinning broadly. “I caught it!” he said, holding the ball up proudly. Garibaldi laughed.
“Throw it back.” Sheridan shouted, motioning.
“Oh, yes---of course.” He said, extremely proud of himself. Mollari smiled, lobbing the ball back to Sheridan. A few more pitches and Garibaldi sent up his first batter.
G’kar.
As Londo heard Garibaldi call the name, he looked quickly toward the Narn. G’kar grinned, running his hand slowly along the bat, staring at the Centauri. He stopped a few feet away and swung the bat powerfully. It hissed through the air, almost singing as it sliced around. Londo stood slowly as G’kar stepped to the plate. He suddenly realized he didn’t want to be behind the plate when the Narn swung that bat again. He wasn’t a telepath, but he knew exactly what was running through G’kar’s mind as the Narn grinned at him.
“What?” G’kar asked innocently.
Londo simply shook his head but made no move to resume his catching position.
“Come on Londo.” Sheridan pressed from the mound. “Let’s get this inning over with before the turn of the century.” He muttered under his breath. Garibaldi was laughing hard from the small dugout. He had expected this reaction, in fact he’d planned it. This was the main reason why he’d had G’kar batting first. What was the use of playing if you couldn’t have fun?
“Are we going to play this game or not?” G’kar asked the silent Londo. Londo glanced at him, then at the bat, then back to G’kar. The Narn chuckled. Londo bent quickly, scooping the helmet up and crammed it on his head without hesitation. Garibaldi lost it laughing as he doubled over.
“Now I am ready.” Londo replied, backing up a step or two before squatting down. G’kar grinned.
- - - - -
Corwin sat, staring at the readouts that ran before his eyes. He replayed the report for the fourth time, still now believing what he saw. This all revolved around scarves, just scarves! He couldn’t believe it. Every five years the Drazi fought over who would lead, green or purple. This was stupid. There wasn’t any systematic reasoning behind this, it was completely sporadic. They drew the scarves out of a barrel for god sakes! They didn’t even know which side they would be on until they drew their color. He took a deep breath and reread it again. It hadn’t been the full five years, why was this happening? He glanced at the date, three years ago since Ivanova’s report. He shook his head.
It took this last reading for him to suddenly realize what he had missed before. In Ivanova’s report, she stated that she had become Green leader by taking the scarf off the green Drazi leader. That meant that the green team had no leader at this time because Ivanova wasn’t on the station anymore. He sat up quickly as realization set in. When Ivanova left the station, something must have happened to cause the Drazi to begin fighting. How could the Drazi end the fighting this time, without the Green leader present? There was no way in hell he could rectify this situation without the scarf and Ivanova had the scarf. He felt his world crashing around him as he buried his face in his hands.
His link bleeped, causing him to jump slightly. “Corwin, go.”
“Corwin, this is Captain Lockley. I just received another report concerning the Drazi. They appear to be fighting in brown sector, are you on top of this or not?”
“Yes, ma’am, Captain.” He said quickly. What am I saying? Tell the woman the truth, admit defeat! What can I possibly do? “I’m heading back down there now. I’ll give you a report as soon as I can.” Chicken! Am I adding liar to my lengthy list of new ways to piss of the new Captain? He was going to have to do something about that inner voice of his, it was starting to drive him crazy.
“Just make sure you get this under control and soon. I don’t want a diplomatic incident on my hands in the first twenty four hours of my arrival. Lockley out.”
He sighed, rising quickly from the table. “Easier said than done.” He muttered, activating his link. “Corwin to security.” Zack was going to love him for this. Now not only did Corwin get to miss the base ball game and deal with the Drazi, but he got to pull the Chief away too. He was making enemies right and left today.
“Timmons, go.” The strong female voice echoed back.
“I’m going to need security to help me organize the Drazi, Timmons. It seems we may have a impending riot on our hands. I need to speak to the chief.” He said firmly. In for a penny, in for a pound, let’s just piss everyone off at once, he thought sickly.
“He’s attending the base ball game, give me a few minutes to get him here---” She began.
“Send him to C&C, we’ll coordinate from here, Corwin out.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes.
- - - - -
Zack Allan stood on second base, waiting, hoping someone would hit him around. The game was all but crawling, none of the Ambassadors were really that good, except G’kar and he was on the other team. Londo was up to bat and Zack was beginning to consider camping out here for the duration. If it hadn’t been so damn funny watching them, he actually would have been bored. He had never been bored with a base ball game before. But the President had asked him to play---almost begging him to help had been a better term, he thought and he couldn’t refuse.
Suddenly his link bleeped and Zack looked down at it irritated. He’s shown up late as it was and now this. Activating it quickly, he spoke. “Allan go. What’s the problem?”
“Chief, Timmons. I just got a call from Lieutenant Commander Corwin. Seems we have a problem with the Drazi. He’s afraid it’ll turn into a full blown out riot. He’s requesting your presence in C&C as soon as possible.”
Zack groaned, “Great---” he muttered, glancing around. “I’m kinda on second base at the moment, give me a minute to get another runner and I’ll meet him there, Allan out.” He waved toward Sheridan, drawing his attention. Thinking fast he tried to come up with some way to tell the President about his leaving without actually telling him what was wrong. The things I do for this station and it’s morale.
- - - - -
Twenty minutes later, Zack stood in C&C still in his base ball clothes, studying the station map intently with Corwin. They were both huddled around it as if conspiring, in a sense they were. They both knew this had to be handled and neither wanted to have to tell Garibaldi or the President that they couldn’t do it. It reminded Zack of the old saying: baptism by fire. They were both semi new in their positions and neither wanted to admit defeat. They could handle this, no problem, he thought.
“I’ve got my people positioned, here, here, here and over there.” He said, tapping the map at each juncture, showing Corwin what he’d come up with.
Corwin glanced at him puzzled, before returning his attention to the map. “I understand these positions---” he indicated the first three with his fingertips, “--but why grey sector, duct 8? What’s there?”
Zack sighed, leaning back against the railing. “Well, grey sector as you probably know, has an unofficial sub-level dubbed grey seventeen. We might have a small group of Drazi commandos moving through there to make covert attacks on the purple Drazi.”
“Drazi commandos?” Corwin asked hesitantly. This was starting to sound like an old time war movie.
Zack looked at him uncomfortably, grimacing as he rubbed his thumb absently across his chin. “Yeah, the Drazi remember our tactics from a few years ago and have improvised accordingly by doing seemingly illogical angles of attack.” He thought a moment. “Hmmm, interesting. I remember President Sheridan mentioning the Shadows using a similar style of assault---” his voice trailed off as he was lost in thought.
“Ah, chief. You were talking about Drazi commandos?” Corwin said, trying to pull him back to the present situation.
Allan glanced at him, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah, ok. Well they send out the bulk of their numbers to distract our guys and in the meantime, a smaller group of them move at their target in an unexpected way.” He explained.
“Like through grey seventeen?” Corwin asked, starting to catch on.
Zack nodded.
Corwin smiled. “So their strategy in a nutshell is to be overtly covert.” His smiled broadened as he suddenly realized what they could do. “Ok, let’s do one better. Have the grey group move through that sub-level, if there are Drazi commandos there, we might just spoil their plans.” He felt very proud of himself with coming up with a solution of slowly them down. He hadn’t solved the main problem, but at least beating this one skirmish felt pretty damn good.
Zack straightened, nodding in agreement. It was a good plan. “I’m on it.” He activated his link quickly.
Chief to Timmons.”
“Timmons, here chief.” Came the reply after a moments hesitation. Zack and Corwin glanced at each other as the background noises came through. Growls, moans and periodic crashed resounded through the link.
“What’ch ya got for me?” Zack asked with a frown. What was going on down there?
Timmons voice sounded strained as she replied. “Uh---well, we think we’ve got about a hundred of ‘em coming through here.”
Zack glanced at Corwin, raising his eyebrows. A hundred?! “Can you hold your turf?” he questioned concerned. They hadn’t expected that many, maybe a couple of dozen--but a hundred, she had to be exaggerating.
Another pause, then. “Uh--well, just a minute---uhhh.” Loud crackling echoed throughout the room as Zack winced, then a very distinctive growl sounded. Zack looked at his link anxiously. What the hell was going on down there? Then Timmon’s voice again, muffled and stressed. “Damn---damn---chief, we’re not-------get him! Get him before------!” Then the link went dead.
“Timmons?! Timmons?!” Silence was his only response. “Damn!” he tapped his link harshly as Corwin started at it wide eyed. “Verkynski! How about double timing it to grey 17! We’ve got trouble. I lost contact with Timmons. I’ll meet you there.” He finished his statement on the way to the door, moving with determination. “I doubt we can avoid telling the Captain about this any longer.” He said, glancing toward the shocked Corwin.
Corwin nodded slowly. “She’ll probably have us go to general quarters, which means notifying the medlab for casualties.” He said more to himself than Zack. Allan was already out the door and in a run toward his destination as Corwin finished. How had this gotten out of hand so damn fast?
He had to tell the Captain, there was nothing else to do, he and Zack had tried everything. He had failed. He lifted his eyes from the map to the view port and the stars beyond. “Damn it to hell.” He muttered. His first real assignment and he butchered it. He moved mechanically to his station. His eyes seeing the console, but not really registering it. He felt like a dog crawling home to his master with it’s tail between it’s legs. He sat down heavily in the chair. “Damn it all to hell.”
Reaching for the switch to connect him to Lockley’s office, he hesitated a moment and looked toward the ceiling. “Guess it can’t hurt to pray to god---” he mumbled softly, what did he have to lose? He needed a miracle now more than anything. Some type of divine intervention. I suppose striking me dead with a lightning bolt is out of the question, he thought sickly.
As his finger brushed the switch, Stellar Com bleeped demanding attention. He jumped, startled and glanced to the small screen on his left. He reached out activating it, relieved for the small interruption that kept the inevitable from happening, if only for a few short moments.
To his immense delight, the screen resolved into the smiling image of Susan Ivanova. He grinned brightly muttering, “Thank you,” under his breath.
Susan grinned, then gave him a funny look, as if she had heard his remark and wasn’t sure how to take it. “Hello Lieutenant Commander---excuse me?”
She had heard. He thought quickly, trying to find a way to mask the slip. He almost forgot to answer her greeting, he was so rattled by her sudden call. He collected himself quickly. “Hi Captain, uh---nothing, just got off the link with Chief Allan.” He managed, it sounded lame even to him.
“So how’s the Chief like his new authority?” she asked good humored.
“Uh--just fine Captain.” Speak in a civilized language you idiot! He thought, berating himself. Your acting like a teenager trying to get a first date! Pick your tongue up off the floor.
Ivanova tilted her head slightly at the response and lifted a eyebrow quizzically. “And what about you Lieutenant Commander.” She said with a hint of amusement.
Corwin forced a smile to stay on his face, but it was weak. She knows---she knows---god she knows---damn---damn---damn--come on Corwin, buck up! “Well, Captain, I won’t pull recent rank if you don’t.” He said trying to joke back, but knowing he was failing. He never was very good at this.
To his surprise, Susan Ivanova laughed. “Now there’s that C&C sarcasm that seems so familiar. Speaking of being kicked up a peg, where is that damn President?” Her eyes sparkled with delight.
“Uh--President Sheridan is at this moment---” He glanced down at his chronometer. “----making his third home run, I’d imagine.”
Ivanova grinned. “Good, good. I’m pleased to see I left you well prepared to know everything that’s happening before it happens. Also a nice amount of ass kissing fabrication. Careful lieutenant commander, your starting to sound like an ISN reporter under Clark.” She ribbed.
Corwin grinned, shaking his head. “No, I heed more what Shakespeare said---first let us kill all the reporters.”
Ivanova chuckled. “I taught you well, sarcastic and cynical, all in a very short time. Maybe I should write a book. Anyway, I called up to give my congratulations to President Sheridan.”
“Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
Ivanova nodded. “Yes and he is a politician with a chin. That is a collection of traits I like and can trust.” She admitted. She was immensely proud of what her friend had become, she knew he’d make a hell of a president.
Corwin’s link sounded, drawing his attention. “Excuse me a moment, Captain.” He muttered, activating it. Ivanova nodded slightly, her face full of interest as she waited. She missed Babylon 5 and it’s constant hassles, if it didn’t hold such memories----stop it Ivanova! I can’t go there, not now. She focused herself on Corwin’s words.
“Corwin, go.”
His link jumped to life as Zack’s voice all but yelled out at him. “C&C, this is Zack! The Drazi have been holding up in grey sector! We stopped their frontal surge, but they punched through a wall into blue sector access tube 83! They’re heading right for the main! I’ve pulled teams four and seven from red sector to intercept, but I can’t guarantee we can hold them!”
Corwin swallowed, his eyes wide. “I’ll get Captain Lockley, hold out as long as you can.” He disengaged the link, glancing back to Ivanova. “Sorry Captain, but I have---”
“What is all that?! A riot?!” Ivanova demanding, cutting him off.
Corwin took a deep breath, resigning himself to his fate. “Yes, with the Drazi and their green scarf--purple scarf politics. About a day or so after you left the ---ahem--debating began. I don’t quite understand why all of a sudden it got crazy.” He admitted. “I mean---I did some looking into you last report----”
Ivanova cut him off, she looked puzzled. “The Drazi told me they only debate every five years. This fighting is too soon, it’s only been three years and I’m green---Oy!” She slapped her hand against her forehead, as the realization of what was happening hit her. “Damn--damn--damn! I’m green leader and I left! I left them---without a even number! How could you forget Suanovitch!” she glared at him through the screen. “Lieutenant Commander, I’m on my way---tell the Drazi Ambassador that I’m on my way!”
Corwin nodded quickly as relief flooded his features. Relief that he didn’t have to tell Captain Lockley that there was no solution to the Drazi problem and relief that he hadn’t pleaded for help. ”Ok, Captain, will do. C&C out.” He took a deep breath and smiled broadly. Help was coming, all they had to do was hold out a little longer. He felt as if a huge pressure had just been lifted from his shoulders. He reached out, hitting the switch that connected him to his new Captain. He didn’t feel hesitant about talking to her now.
“Corwin to Captain Lockley. The---situation is about to be solved.” He said proudly.
Lockley’s voice filtered across the channel. “What situation would that be Lieutenant Commander and how are you planning to solve it?” She question with a hint of humor in her voice. “I hope now with spit and bailing wire.”
Corwin gave a lopsided grin as he responded. “No, ma’am, just a green scarf and god herself.”
“Hmmm---discovered C&C sarcasm and cynicism have we?”
Corwin couldn’t help but laugh.
- - - - -
The game was finished, the day was done. As the overhead lights blinked out consecutively, Sheridan shook his head in wonderment. He had lost and he blamed it on Mollari. The Centauri Ambassador had murdered them. Why he had even considered placing Londo on his team was a mystery. It wasn’t actually having him on the team, but more of the placement of position. He should have never made him the catcher, too much responsibility. He could still see Londo standing at the base as G’kar made a mad dash for the plate.
Instead of tagging the Narn out, he jumped out of the way, running a good ten feet in the other direction. John had been stupefied. Course Michael and Franklin got a good laugh out of it.
If anything, he had actually thought Delenn would have been the loose end. To his surprise she had played surprisingly well. He had placed her on first base, at first for her protection, since he knew he’d be throwing the majority of balls her way. He hoped none of the Ambassadors thought he was playing favorites because that had never came to mind. By the third inning, she took on the persona of a predator. It became uncanny, she nailed every ball and snatched every throw like a spider waiting for a fly.
When she did miss a throw in the fifth inning, she came off the field with a look of wanting to declare war on someone. He had started to console her, but the look in her eyes changed his mind quickly. He took a step back and away, whispering softly. “Just walk it off.”
She returned his comment with furious resolve and puzzlement. “I will.” And then started to walk away, toward the exit. If he hadn’t stopped her, he thought she would have taken it literally.
Speaking of Delenn, she drew him back to the present with a question. “John, what did you mean when you were mumbling in the dugout?” At his puzzled look, she elaborated. “You said something about, who, what and I don’t know.”
As she said this, Franklin caught Sheridan’s eyes and grinned broadly. Sheridan chuckled, then nudged Stephen in the ribs. “Ok Delenn, let us explain it to you.” He said grinning.
Franklin chuckled, then looked back to Sheridan. “I hear you have a base ball team---I’d like to know your players names.”
Sheridan nodded. “Who’s on first--what’s on second---I don’t know is on third base.”
“That’s what I want to find out.”
“That’s what I’m telling you. Who’s on first---what’s on second--I don’t know is on third base.” Sheridan grinned starting to really get into the word play. Delenn looked at them perplexed as Garibaldi gave a snort from beside her, listening.
“You do know your players names?”
“Yes.”
“Then who plays first?” Stephen asked.
“Yes.”
“I mean the players name on first.”
“Who.”
“The player on fist base.” Stephen said again.
“Who.” Sheridan replied. Delenn couldn’t fathom why he kept saying that.
“The guy on first base.”
“Who is on first.”
“Well, what are you asking me for?” Stephen demanded.
“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you---who is on first.”
“I’m asking you-----who is on first?”
“That’s the man’s name.” Sheridan replied starting to laugh.
“That’s who’s name?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the man’s name on first base?” Stephen asked almost breaking up.
“No, what’s on second---who’s on first.”
“I don’t know who’s on first.”
“I don’t know is third base.” Sheridan replied laughing. He held up his hand, stopping Stephen’s next response as he glanced to Delenn. He and Stephen were grinning wildly. “Is the naming starting to make sense now, Delenn?” he asked with mock concern. He was sure he’d be paying for this little word exchange later, but he felt it was pay back for the confusion he felt over the Mimbari sayings and rituals.
Garibaldi put the confusion on Delenn’s face into words. “Yeah, about as much sense as any Vorlon!”
- - - - -
Captain Lockley sat back in her chair. Her feet were propped up in front of her on the small desk in her quarters. She activated her link as she got comfortable.
“Captain’s personal log--Well, John’s first Interstellar Alliance base ball game came to a close without a hitch, despite the close call of a Drazi riot. On that particular subject, I didn’t put much faith in Corwin. But he surprised me.”
Thinking about the Lieutenant Commander’s solution made her stop a second for a bemused laugh. Collecting her thoughts again, she continued her entry.
“While I have no love for base ball and John’s little idea of using it for promoting peaceful coexistence worries me. I have to admit the theory came in handy for Corwin. The plan is pretty straight forward. Purple Drazi and green Drazi will become two ball teams and my Lieutenant Commander their manager. Well, in a nutshell Corwin became more than the spectator he had hoped to be. I wish the guy well and this will certainly demand a commendation.”
Lockley rose, stretching as she spine made a relieving pop. Might as well turn in, she thought. Deactivating the recorder she moved to bed, crawling beneath the covers.
- - - - -
During the following cycle, Lennier and Vir moved in excited unison down the main of the station. The two Ambassadorial aides wore appropriate gear for the position of umpiring. Lieutenant Commander Corwin had requested their presence in his attempt to train the Drazi in base ball etiquette.
Glancing to his Centauri comrade, Lennier spoke. “I am quite pleased to be taking a more active role in this game.”
Vir nodded, delight flashing across his features. “Yes, I enjoyed doing the wave during out attempt at cheerleading. However; I do have a question---”
“Yes.”
“After the game, Mister Garibaldi pulled me aside and asked me where were our pompoms.” He said frowning slightly.
Lennier darted a look of curiosity. “Pompoms?”
The End (Until next season!)
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: The characters are all JMS’s !!! We simply wish to enjoy and fantasize about the wonderful universe he has created.