Hello all, I know I haven't posted a chapter here in over four years, and mainly that was the result of my first wife becoming ill, and then passing away. The little bit of this chapter sat on my laptop for four years before I finally felt ready to try and start writing it (or anything) again. I hope you enjoy. :)

Chapter 13

December 23rd, 2241: Earthdome complex, Geneva, Switzerland, Earth

The giving of gifts to loved ones is nearly universal across the galactic cultures. While some formalize it into culture-wide holidays (the Minbari, Terrans, and Markab come to mind particularly), most give to other on days specific to the individual. Naming Days, Ascension Days, Hatching Days, if one looks closely the galaxy abounds with the giving of gifts. Even the Dilgar gave to their own, although what 'gifts' they gave others left much to be desired. It is unknown about the Vorlons amongst themselves, but their gifts to others often bear two edges, much like the gifts of the Dilgar. It was perhaps with those sorts of gifts in mind that an author of Old Terra wrote, "I fear the Greeks even when they bring gifts..."

Standing before the mirror, Malroth attempted to adjust his new ambassadorial clothing. Different in cut and style from the uniform he had worn for most of the year, what had most taken getting used to was the higher, fringed, ornate neckpiece. It was harder to make look proper than the more utilitarian cushioned collar of military dress. That collar...and the metallic green sash. Just like now, he never seemed to get the sash to hang properly. Its iridescent length flashed mockingly at him from the mirror.

They had been on Earth for ten local days with little to show for their efforts. It was winter here, a season that did not mean much on the Narn Homeworld except for some colder rains. The Narn Homeworld was closer to its sun than Earth and although its ecology was a shambles, it was still much warmer overall. With the exception of the very high mountains (of which there were few), and the Polar Regions (which were small), it didn't really get particularly cold. Not so here on Earth.

Not only was Earth farther from her primary, but to make maters worse the Earthdome complex was in the high mountains in a place called 'Geneva'. Although G'Kar had warned him, and he had read about it on the trip here, until he arrived Malroth had never experienced snow first hand. Like all Narns, moderate cold was inconsequential and thus could be ignored. However this...snow...which fell in such profusion here, was insidious. The moment it touched Malroth's skin it melted and then slid down the smooth surface of his head into the fringed collar of his tunic. If anything, the high collar acted like a funnel, channeling the melted snow to his neck, the uncomfortable dampness adding to his irritation.

The door chimed beside him. Malroth knew it was G'Kar, coming to fetch him for the human celebration. "Another folk function," he thought. This particular one was called a 'Christmas party'. G'Kar and Malroth had already attended a 'Winter Solstice Festival', and some other community celebration whose name was a mouth-full of letters of which 'deepam' was all Malroth could hope to pronounce that involved hordes of dusky-skinned human females dancing in the predawn light while carrying small flaming lamps. Supposedly that last one hailed from the Earth president's home district. G'Kar had been most appreciative (he found human females of all types arousing), but Malroth had stood by stoically as the damnable snow collected in his collar. It seemed winter here on Earth was used as an excuse by the Terrans to have a multitude of parties. Sometimes they reminded Malroth of the Centauri so much his teeth ached.

The door chimed again. "Enter," Malroth snapped. The door retreated into the wall, allowing his new mentor, G'Kar, to enter the room. He was carrying a large bundle of what appeared to be crimson-colored cloth.

"Are you ready, Malroth?" he asked.

"Everything except this damned sash," Malroth growled.

G'Kar dropped his bundle onto a chair. "Yes," he said, "It is difficult to drape it appropriately without the weight of a proper dagger or sidearm." G'Kar looked at the fall of the problem sash for a moment. Shaking his head he said, "I am sorry, Malroth. We left Homeworld in such a hurry, I did not have time to outfit you properly." G'Kar unhooked a chain from around his neck, one that sported a heavy gold-colored medallion, and promptly wove the jewelry through the ends of Malroth's sash. The extra weight gave the sash something very close to the proper drape. As G'Kar appraised his efforts he said, "Not what I would have chosen but it is better than nothing." G'Kar shrugged and said, "I have had weights sewn into the bottom of mine, but this will have to do for now." He turned to the bundle of cloth he had put on the chair. "I have something else for you," G'Kar said. He shook out the dark red fabric, revealing two long, heavily cowled, deeply hooded cloaks.

Malroth thought the style looked familiar. Recollection dawned on him, causing him to gasp in surprise. "Those are Markab Handfasting cloaks!" he thought. In a hoarse whisper Malroth said, "How...where...did you get these and what exactly are we going to do with them?"

G'Kar chuckled at his aide's reaction. He waved away Malroth's shock and said, "Oh no, they are only replicas." G'Kar quickly whipped one around his shoulders, clasping it at the neck. "Now, if you wear it like this, " he said as he pulled the deep hood over his head, "it will keep the snow out of your collar."

Malroth put on his cloak. Upon handling the garment, he could tell it was shoddily sewn out of cheap material. G'Kar saw him fingering the cloth and said, "Yes, I know they are poorly made garments, but they were the only thing I could find on short notice that fit our skull structure."

"Where did you procure these...replicas of Markab cloaks?" Malroth asked.

"From the proprietor of a costume shop," G'Kar replied.

Malroth thought a moment. One of the words G'Kar had used had no Narn equivalent, so he had used the actual Terran English word. Dredging his memory for the word's definition Malroth tentatively said, "A 'costume' is...a disguise, yes?" G'Kar nodded. "The humans have whole shops that sell cheaply assembled disguises?" Malroth asked incredulously.

G'Kar shook his head and said, "Not like you think. The humans use these 'costumes' for a festival they have near harvest time"

"Another festival..." Malroth grumpily thought. With all of the festivals he had attended these last few days, he was not anxious to even discuss another. "Harvest time..." Malroth mused. He could think of no human celebration he had read about in his hasty study of human culture and customs. Drawing on what he knew of other species living in this part of the galaxy around the humans, Malroth took a stab at the festival's origin. "Is it some sort of fertility rite?" he asked. "The humans wear disguises so they are anonymous to their partners?"

G'Kar laughed, waved his hands in the negative and said, "Not at all! This particular festival revolves around the spirits of their dead ancestors." Controlling his mirth G'Kar continued, "I am given to understand they originally used the costumes to hide their identity from the spirits, or to frighten them away."

Malroth gasped, taken slightly aback. "Don't they revere the spirits of their ancestors?" he asked.

G'Kar quickly checked the time and said, "Come. We are in danger of being late. We can speak as we go." Malroth pulled the hood of his faux Kalinor cloak over his head as he and G'Kar left the room. As they started down the hallway, G'Kar said, "Now, the human festival involving their ancestral spirits is one the humans call Hallowe'en." As G'Kar continued his attaché's education, the pair walked along a crushed-stone pathway leading away from the building housing their temporary quarters. Lights along the path gave out just enough illumination to allow them to make their way easily. True to G'Kar's word, the large hood on the cloak indeed shed the vast majority of the falling snow away from his head. Wending their way through the sparse foliage, Malroth caught glimpses of humans frolicking through the falling snow, their voices occasionally raised in merriment.

Abruptly the stone pathway gave over to a smooth poured surface and a squat, well lighted building. Standing outside a large double door stood two humans in grey Earth Force Security uniforms. After checking their identicards, the humans allowed the Narn representatives to pass the doors into a short, dim hallway.

As the doors closed behind them, and the two Narns shook off the remaining snow, G'Kar spoke, "Now this is an unofficial party. The 'official' Christmas party for senior Earth Force commanders was held last night."

Malroth mulled over that for a moment. "And we were not invited?" he asked as much as stated

Shaking his head, G'Kar replied, "No. With our current war with the Centauri, and the close ties Earth currently has with Centauri Prime, it was deemed politically expedient to leave us off the guest list." Seeing his adjutant's facial expression harden, G'Kar quickly added, "But take heart! This gathering is more intimate, and is attended by choice rather than duty. Among the humans here will most likely be an opportunity to try and broach the subject of the ingenious plan you suggested to me during our hyperspace travel."

Malroth felt a warm glow of pride at his new mentor's compliment. The plan to try and loosen the Centauri control of the Ardun grave shrine was actually rather simple: to have it sponsored by a neutral party as a location of religious or historical significance in need of preservation and protection. Often the Centauri were quite adamant that such sights of their own left behind during The Uprising had needed such neutral protections, insisting that many monuments to their egos needed to be on the Galactic Heritage listing. The Abbai, Hyach, and the Terrans had championed a few such places for the Centauri, and Malroth felt confident one of them might sponsor Ardun as a Galactic Heritage site for the Narn in light of the enormous amount of interred dead in the former mines.

Indeed it was the Centauri document that demanded the Narn surrender that had given birth to the idea. In its rather wordy length more than once appeared the phrase "...according to the guidelines set down by the Galactic Heritage Charter..." in reference to ceded territories. After ascertaining exactly what all of those guidelines might be, Malroth had conceived attempting to have Ardun declared such a site. In a moment of delicious irony, G'Kar believed there might even be some members of the Basif faction within the Centaurum that would support such a designation if for no other reason than to thwart Lord Roglark's aims in the region, as he was well-known for voicing strong feelings about the entire Buffer Zone remaining solely in Centauri control, Ardun in particular.

Interrupting Malroth's musing, G'Kar grasped his sleeve, pulling him along the hallway to another set of doors. The faint sounds of music and voices, some raised in laughter, filtered through the closed doors. Without much ado, the pair stepped through the doors into the lights and warmth of the holiday celebration.

Malroth's senses swam for a moment at the sudden noise: what looked to be over fifty Earth Force officers and at least half as many human civilians in the room, all laughing and chatting, imbibing glasses of their drinks of choice. A laughing, dapper Earth Force Lieutenant-Commander manned the wet bar, his bright Starfury-pilot's uniform standing out against the other darker blues, browns, and greys. Many small tables with chairs spread across the room, but a good deal of the Terrans seemed to prefer standing. A few other tables scattered about the room held various bottles of liquor and mixers, and one table in the corner held an enormous bowl of some pale, frothy, opaque liquid that party-goers ladled into small cups. Music played from hidden speakers, nearly impossible to hear over the din of conversation. The room bore some decorations: odd metallic bunting of red, green, gold, and silver stretched across the walls along with small multi-colored lights. Standing in the corner was what appeared to be a tree, covered in the same bunting and lights, and also sporting small spheres of bright colors.

A fair-haired female officer glided up to the pair of Narns, laying her hand on G'Kar's arm and quietly speaking to him. The Ambassador smiled and leaned down to catch her words, only barely remembering Malroth standing next to him. Without even a glance in his adjutant's direction, G'Kar gave a small gesture indicating the party at large and said, "Go and mingle some while I become...reacquainted with the Colonel, here."

While his new mentor spoke to the female Marine Colonel, Malroth drifted away and started to visually assess the room's other occupants. His substantial research allowed him to identify a few of the Earth Force officers present: Commodore Natchez in conversation with two naval captains, Admiral Thornhill listening raptly to a single civilian as she sipped her cup, and the recently-promoted General Lefcourt volubly speaking to Admiral Patrick Doyle and Ambassador David Sheridan.

Glancing back at G'Kar, it was clear to Malroth that the Ambassador's conversation with the female surpassed the professional and had entered into the personal, judging by the look in their eyes and the rather intimate way they touched. He quickly filled a glass with completely colorless liquor, and then slowly ambled over near Lefcourt's group. The General had just finished his raucous story, causing both Admiral Doyle and the Ambassador to laugh.

Sheridan noticed Malroth drifting nearby, the only non-human in the room and clearly left to his own devices by G'Kar. Motioning with his glass to the Narn, he said, "Adjutant Malroth, what a pleasant surprise! Please, come join us." Both officers turned to greet him as Sheridan continued, "Gentleman, this is Citizen Malroth, Adjutant to Ambassador G'Kar of the Narn Regime."

General Lefcourt, clearly well on his way to being intoxicated, gave Malroth a boisterous greeting complete with a hearty back slap that slopped both of their drinks. Admiral Doyle was far more reserved, the shorter human smiling politely and holding out his hand. Staring at the outstretched hand, Malroth hesitated a moment, thinking, "He is a personal friend of Roglark the Assassin!" Doyle's smile faded a bit at the Narn's hesitation. Chiding himself, Malroth immediately grasped the Admiral's hand and firmly pumped it twice, just as his reading suggested. "Forgive me, Admiral Doyle," Malroth said, "this is my first trip to Earth and some of your customs are still a bit foreign to me."

His smile widening, Admiral Doyle gave him a proper Narn greeting, fists brought up to his chest with a slight bow. As Malroth smiled and returned the gesture, Doyle replied, "There is nothing to forgive, Adjutant Malroth. The customs of any alien culture must seem...a bit..." he paused, seeking out the proper words. "Well...they must seem...alien, I suppose", he finished sheepishly.

General Lefcourt seemed to find the Admiral's comment most amusing, suddenly letting out a burst of braying laughter. The abrupt louder noise attracted some glances from the gathered Earth personnel, and a slightly suffering look from Doyle. "Alien customs are a bit alien, eh?" Lefcourt repeated as he administered his signature backslap to Doyle. "Ah, whoo, wow Pat, you sure have a way with words!"

Sighing, the Admiral replied, "Well...no one ever said I was in the running for one of the first-contact teams."

Throwing back the remainder of his drink, Lefcourt turned towards the bar and said, "I'm for more. Any of you need anything?" With a negative from all three, the General marched off to the bar, a bit unsteadily.

"You said this is your first visit to Earth, how do you find it now that you have seen it first hand, Adjutant?" Sheridan asked.

"I find your homeworld quite beautiful, Ambassador," Malroth replied. "If a bit chilly at the moment," he added with a chuckle, both humans adding their own laughter. "And please, gentlemen, just call me 'Malroth'. I fear I am...uncomfortable with the title of 'Adjutant' however true it may be."

Swallowing the dregs of his cup, Sheridan said, "I'm grabbing more 'nog, gents. Any takers?" Admiral Doyle drained his cup and nodded enthusiastically. Malroth looked confused, not understanding the Ambassador's reference.

"What are you drinking, Malroth?" Doyle asked.

"Um...I am not entirely sure," the Narn replied. Holding up his glass he tentatively added, "Something brown?"

Doyle quickly leaned in and sniffed Malroth's glass. Nodding, he called over his shoulder to Sheridan and said, "Yes he wants some eggnog, too." As Sheridan navigated the press of humans to secure the drink, Doyle said with a smile, "You're drinking cheap rum, my friend...and while I like rum more than the next guy, trust me when I say a little eggnog will improve your drink. "

Malroth gave a quick nod and said, "As you say, Admiral. I shall trust you."

Shaking his head slightly, Doyle said, "If we're going to have a drink together, the least you can do it call me Patrick."

With a smile the Narn replied, "As you say, Patrick."

Before long, Sheridan returned with three cups balanced precariously in his hands. Patrick and Malroth relieved him of one each. Seeing the Narn standing holding both cup and glass, Patrick said, "Just pour them together and enjoy." Malroth did as the Admiral suggested, and by his second sip gained a new appreciation for Terran cocktails. This mixture was quite delicious, the chill of the 'eggnog' and the slight warmth of the 'rum' combining quite satisfactorily, each component sweet in it's own way yet complimenting the other.

Malroth's third sip was interrupted by the return of General Lefcourt, announcing his presence with another of his backslaps and a slightly slurred, "Ho now, Dave! Don't give they guy too mucha that 'nog. Remember what happened to that goofy senior Drazi flag captain last night? He's probably still puking!"

Malroth's attention was grabbed by that mention of a senior Drazi captain on Earth, and at last night's more official party. Seemingly simply trying to make conversation, Malroth cleared his throat and asked, "Drazi flag captain?"

Lefcourt laughed and replied, "Oh yeah, Captain...uh, Phlo-something. Phlo'tan...Phlo'tar...Phlo'tum, ah hell I can never remember Drazi names?"

"Senior Captain Phlo'tanum?" Malroth volunteered

"Yeah, that's him! So Phlo'tanum was doing just fine with one cup of the 'nog last night, but as soon as he started on his second...BAM, projectile vomiting everywhere! It was the gift that kept on giving! Funniest thing I've seen in awhile let me tell you."

"Unfortunately it seems that Drazi physiology isn't suited to Terran milk," Sheridan said drily.

"Yep," Lefcourt agreed as he laughed more. "They're allergic to it, or something." Suddenly the General's comm link chirped. Swallowing another mouthful of liquor, Lefcourt answered, "General Robert M. Lefcourt, here." But with the level of noise, he couldn't hear the transmission. With an exasperated grunt he told the officer on the link to hold on until he was in a quieter place. Excusing himself to the trio, Lefcourt quickly turned on his heel and exited the room.

Ambassador Sheridan sat down at one of the small round tables, inviting the Admiral and Malroth to join him. Once they were all seated, Sheridan asked, "So, Malroth, you know Captain Phlo'tanum?"

Hesitating for just a moment, the Narn replied, "I know of Senior Captain Phlo'tanum, but do not know him personally."

With a quick glace between the humans, Admiral Doyle then asked, "And what do you know about him?"

Malroth sat for a moment, wondering how best to reply. "I know of his distinguished war record with the Dilgar, and that he has fully supported Stro'kath's faction in the Drazi government, and that both qualifications led to his recent assignment to captain the Firewing, the vessel Leader Stro'kath most often uses." The Narn took another swallow of his drink and asked, "I assume Stro'kath is here on Earth?"

Doyle and Sheridan exchanged another look before the Ambassador said, "We were trying to keep it a little more quiet, but I guess the saying is true, 'In the halls of power there are no secrets and even the deaf can hear.'"

"An apt saying, " Malroth thought. "Is he here...are you going to declare some sort of an alliance with the Drazi Freehold against the Centauri?" he asked.

Sheridan shook his head and replied, "No, nothing like that. Stro'kath is here for...medical reasons, and he will be for another few weeks if everything goes well. He's not as young as he used to be." Malroth filed that bit of information away for later as Sheridan continued, "They did not ask for any material aid at all: Stro'kath and his military leaders believe they can handle anything the Centauri are willing to throw at them."

Shaking his head, Admiral Doyle snorted in derision and said, "That's a big mistake."

Malroth nodded in agreement with the sentiment and said, "Indeed, Patrick, they are sorely mistaken. The Centauri are reactivating mothballed ships at an alarming rate, and manning them with skilled and motivated crews. Their industrial production is only just now gearing up, and their logistics system is nearly flawless. We all know that production and the ability to get it to the front allowed the Centauri to win the Orieni War...now imagine that turned loose today." Shaking his head, Malroth continued, "And now somehow the moderate Houses are answering the call to war, even some of the more mercenary Basif Houses, too. The Drazi have never faced a threat of this magnitude, excepting perhaps the Dilgar invasion."

Doyle leaned forward and said, "I'm not even sure we should compare the two. The Dilgar merely sought to delay the Drazi from entering too far into their war...the Centauri are coming to conquer."

They all sat silent for a moment before Sheridan spoke again, "In your assessment, will the Centauri try and completely conquer the Drazi?"

Malroth mused over that question and then said, "I am not sure they want the entirety of the Freehold. Not to mention every Drazi would rise up in arms to prevent any enemy from conquering Zhabar. In their own legends no enemy ever has set foot on the planet, and they would all most likely be willing to die to make sure it does not happen." The Narn rubbed his chin a moment and then said, "Roglark will definitely go as far as he can, or rather as far as the Emperor allows him to go. But I suspect they most want something like the Buffer Zone between them and the Drazi. Secure several key systems, do a calculated amount of damage to the Drazi fleet, and then some sort of tribute payment for a certain amount of years." Malroth shrugged and added, "It is what they have done to us."

They sat silent, each pondering the coming conflict between the Centauri and the Drazi. Ambassador Sheridan felt the somber mood of them all, and tried to lighten their spirits with some colorful stories of his earlier days as attaché' to his predecessor, Sir Richard Grenville. Sheridan's stories, along with a story or two from both Admiral Doyle and Malroth, and a few more drinks finally served to lighten the atmosphere at the table.

In the midst of a tale from Doyle about a rather scandalous costume party at Station Io, a fleet Ensign stepped up to the table, came to attention, and addressed him, "Admiral Doyle, General Lefcourt's compliments, sir. He asks that you report to him immediately."

Doyle looked up at the junior officer, confusion across his face. "I didn't hear my link," he replied, glancing at the link on the back of his left hand.

Staring straight ahead, the Ensign said, "I don't know about that, sir. I was ordered to find you and verbally give you the General's orders, sir."

Sighing heavily, the Admiral stood. Turning to the Ambassador and the Narn he said, "I'm sorry I have to cut this short...no rest for the wicked it seems. Good evening, gentlemen, and a Merry Christmas to you both." He motioned to the Ensign still standing at attention and said, "Lead on to the General, young man."

"I wonder what that was all about?" Sheridan asked.

Narrowing his eyes, Malroth said, "Hopefully it is nothing distressing of a personal nature for Patrick." The Narn waited a beat before continuing. "I wonder, Ambassador, if I might draw on your professional acumen about something I intend to put forth to my superiors?" Without waiting for an answer he continued, "I have never worked in the diplomatic realm, and I wish to be more successful for my people than with my...previous appointment."

Leaning back in his chair, Sheridan smiled at the Narn's eagerness. "Of course, my friend," he replied. "I'm always happy to let the new kids pick my brain. "

Malroth launched into the Ardun plan that had so impressed G'Kar. Sheridan listened to the entire plan without question, and then requested the Narn to promptly repeat it back to him. During the second recitation, the human diplomat asked probing questions at key points, each of which the Narn answered promptly, showing he had deeply considered his own plan. Sheridan asked for a third round, and this time presented disputes at different points, and again Malroth defeated or deflected the challenges as necessary. By the end of the much longer third narration, Sheridan was somewhat impressed with Malroth's knowledge and fierce yet calm determination, the calmness a welcome novelty amongst the Narn officials of Sheridan's experience.

"For claiming little knowledge or experience in the diplomatic field, you certainly are off to an excellent start," Sheridan complimented.

With a smile, Malroth replied, "Thank you, Ambassador. From a human of your experience that is high praise indeed."

"It wouldn't have occurred to most to use the Galactic Heritage Treaty to declare Ardun a Heritage site and thus nothing of a military sort could be built there...but it makes a great deal of sense, and it would most likely qualify in my opinion," Sheridan said. "I almost can't believe the Centauri put that stricture in the surrender treaty to your government."

"I would be happy to return to my quarters to retrieve the document so you can see for yourself, Ambassador," Malroth quickly replied. He started to surge to his feet, only to have Sheridan laugh and hold his arm.

"No need for that, my friend, I believe you!" the human said. As Malroth sat back down, he thought for a moment before adding, "We have a few places like that here on Earth, places where a tragic atrocity has occurred, and those that survived wish the place marked, preserved, and never forgotten." Sheridan sighed and said, "I only wish I could make the motion before the Heritage Commission myself."

Malroth twitched a bit at that statement. "Your government will not support it?" he asked hesitantly.

Sheridan took a deep breath before answering, "They may well support it should it come to a vote, but making the motion and assisting you in presenting it...I am afraid my government will do nothing officially to harm our current relationship with the Centauri Republic."

Lowering his head in momentary defeat, Malroth said, "I understand, of course." When he looked back up at Sheridan, the fire of zeal shone again in his eyes. "Still, with or without Earth's help, I shall attempt the resolution nonetheless."

With a small smile, the human said, "Now, now, hold on. I said I could do nothing officially. Unofficially, I believe I can help you...mainly by finding you a respected member of the diplomatic community that would be willing to help." Lacing his fingers together, he added, "And I am pretty sure I know who."

"Who would carry our banner?" Malroth asked his face alight with renewed hope.

"Ambassador Kalika Qwal'Mizra of the Abbai Matriarchy," Sheridan replied. "She sits on the Heritage Commission itself, and this sort of thing is right up her alley. I am sure she would love to do what she could to stop you and the Centauri fighting over the place any more." Thinking for a moment more, the human then asked, "Now you can't let word of this leak before your government signs the surrender, or quick as lightning the Centauri will remove any and all language referencing the Heritage Treaty. When are your people going to sign it?"

"I am given to understand they already have, and that it will be official before the week is out," Malroth replied.

"Well, then all you have to do is wait a couple of days to let the ink dry, and once it's all legal we'll go around and talk to Miss Kalika," Sheridan said with a wry grin.

Saluting the human, Malroth said, "Thank you, Ambassador. You are giving my people a princely gift."

Waving away the thanks, Sheridan said, "No need to thank me. I'm just making sure two like-minded folks get together to talk." He chuckled and added, "Plus it is Christmas, after all."

They sat silent for moment before the Narn asked, "We'll go to her offices, then?"

"Welllll...that would be pretty 'official' to bring you to her offices," Sheridan said. "But, if I just happen to unofficially run into her and unofficially introduce you with a glowing unofficial recommendation...that would be much better."

With a grin, Malroth asked, "And how shall we engineer such an unofficial engagement?"

"Would you like to go to a New Year's Eve party?" Sheridan asked.

In his quarters within the Earthdome complex sat Admiral Patrick Doyle, an empty liquor glass on the small table beside him. After answering General Lefcourt's summons earlier, Doyle felt the need for privacy, more drink, and to see his wife, Lucia...but she was asleep in their home on Proxima III not here on Earth. On the wall screen floated a looped slideshow of images of his wife. He spoke with her via StellarCom earlier this evening before heading out to the party...the party from which a somewhat intoxicated General Lefcourt demanded he leave to see something that ruined the happy night.

Earlier the erstwhile Ensign escorted Patrick to the General, where they found him sitting in a small office. Upon their arrival, Lefcourt promptly dismissed the Ensign and then said, "Pat, I want you to watch some footage." Suddenly apprehensive, Doyle wondered what exactly he was bring dragged away to watch. "Replay file CR17850," Lefcourt barked out. The monitor blossomed to life, showing a scene from space. It was rather garbled either with interference or damage, Doyle couldn't say.

"Sorry for the quality of the visuals," the General said. "Apparently there was a lot of radiation where it was taken." Through the static Doyle could see three Centauri vessels: a scout and another pair closer together consisting of a diminutive gunboat and an older Altarian-class destroyer.

Suddenly through the haze of radiation-induced static, Doyle could make out several jumppoints opening from hyperspace...and what came out from those vortices struck his blood cold. First-line Dilgar warships flew from the scintillating jump points, along with a cloud of Thorun fighters. Thankfully the largest Dilgar ship he could make out looked to be a light cruiser. He watched as the Centauri vessels fired on the Dilgar even as the Centauri opened their own jumppoint to escape. The ship taking footage flew through the point but none of the other ships followed, the point closing behind it. The footage immediately cleared up, showing the red/black miasma of hyperspace.

"Where was that taken?" Doyle quietly asked.

"At Omelos, almost two months ago," Lefcourt replied.

"God damn..." Doyle said under his breath. Another Dilgar sleeper fleet...the last one they found had not gone down easily. "Well at least this sleeper group doesn't seem to have any heavies," he said. "What were the Centauri doing at Omelos?"

"Some kind of scientific thing involving soil, I think. Our man inside their intelligence offices couldn't seem to ferret that out." Shaking his head Lefcourt added, "The whole event seems to have been overshadowed by their escalating the war with the Drazi."

"Hopefully this group doesn't do too much damage until they are found and reported," Doyle said.

"Even if they do, we'll put them in the ground just like before!" Lefcourt said.

As always, the General's arrogance grated on Doyle's teeth. Forcing a smile, he replied, "Yes sir, of course we will." General Lefcourt had admonished him to keep this incident to himself, and then dismissed him. Doyle, now depressed and disturbed that they might have to fight and destroy another Dilgar sleeper fleet, wandered back to his own quarters rather than return to the party. Once there he had poured another drink and taken to looking at pictures of his wife.

The screen in his quarters abruptly beeped, breaking him out of his reverie of General Robert M. Lefcourt. "Incoming recorded message for Rear Admiral Patrick Doyle," the computer said.

"Play message," he replied.

The picture of Lucia went black and was replaced with the StellarCom logo. After the brief commercial intro, the face of his friend, Jentavus Roglark, filled the screen. "Hello, my friend. I hope you are in good health this day. As I timed this message to arrive after midnight I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas, Patrick. It may be some time before I speak with you again, so I will also send my good wishes for your new year for you and your family." He smiled boyishly, showing his pointed incisors and said, "And if my money has been well spent, then a gift from me to you should be on your doorstep." Jentavus winked and added, "I trust you will save enough to share a little with me when next we meet." The Centauri's face grew more serious. "Take care, my friend." The screen went blank.

Patrick got to his feet and opened the door. True to Roglark's word, outside in the dimly lighted corridor next to his door sat a package, brightly wrapped in red and gold paper. Doyle picked it up and went back into his quarters, absently noticing that for its size, the present was heavy. Returning to his chair, Doyle tore through the paper, revealing a dark, genuine wooden box. Opening the box, Patrick drew out a bottle and a small copper cup. Reading the label, the Admiral started and whispered, "Damn!" It was a bottle of Black Tot Royal Navy rum...there hadn't been any made since the late 20th century. Patrick couldn't imagine how much Jentavus must have spent on this single bottle, or where he had found it.

Breaking the seal, he poured a mouthful of the rum into the copper cup. Raising the cup to the now darkened screen in a toast, he imbibed the small amount of liquor, savoring its aged smoothness and flavor over his tongue before swallowing. Thinking of his friend, Patrick said, "You take care, Jentavus."