A Call to Arms (15 page)

“That’s what the message says,” Corwin said.

“Show me,” Lochley ordered.

She and Garibaldi moved to the monitor, which lit up with Sheridan’s face. There was something too happy, too innocent about the president’s expression as he said, “Hello, this is the president. I’m dealing with affairs of state, and can’t come to the link right now. At the chime, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you at the earliest---“

Lochley toggled off the monitor. She and Garibaldi exchanged ominous looks.

Lochley said, “He wouldn’t---“

“If he wanted to skip out,” Garibaldi said, “he could. He knows all the ways in and out of here.” Lochley said, into the link, “Is the
White Star
still berthed outside?”

“Affirmative,” Corwin said.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Garibaldi said.

“Wait...” Into the link, Lochley said, “Were there
any
departures during the night?”

“Just one,” Corwin said. “The EarthForce destroyer
Charon
.”

“Oh, hell,” Garibaldi said.

He moved her arm around so he could speak into her link. “Listen... I’m going to give you a frequency, and you get me on the line ASAP with Samuel Drake.”

“Who?” Lochley asked.

And aboard the destroyer
Charon
, traveling through hyperspace, just before Garibaldi got onto the link, Sheridan was telephoning the selfsame Samuel Drake. Anderson and Dureena stood nearby.

“Samuel Drake, please,” Sheridan said.

Drake’s face appeared on the screen.

“Yes, Mr. President?”

“Mr. Drake, there has been a breach in security. Our communication frequency has been cracked, and Mr. Garibaldi believes that certain parties may use it to send you false or misleading information.”

“I see,” Drake said. “If I may ask, where is Mr. Garib---“

“Consequently,” Sheridan continued, “you are not to accept any further messages unless they come in on this frequency. Lock everything else out of your system. Do not acknowledge, receive, or answer them for any reason. Is that understood, Drake?”

“Yes, sir,” Drake responded.

“Good. I’ m counting on you. We’re en route and will be there shortly.

“End signal.” Sheridan cut off Drake before he could reply. Then he turned his attention to Anderson. “Have you talked to the rest of your crew?”

“I have,” Anderson said. “They’re all on board for this.”

“And what about you? Are you sure you want to do this? You’re going AWOL, risking your career... “

Anderson took his time before answering. Then he replied, “During the Civil War, we had a chance to join your side... We didn’t, and we were wrong. When this... dream came to me, I didn’t know if it was real or not. That’s why we came. “If you hadn’t been here, I would’ve written the whole thing off as a delusion and moved on. But you were here, Earth is in danger... and this time I have every intention of being on the winning side. The crew feels the same way. We let you down once; we won’t do it again.”

Sheridan said, “Thank you, Captain. So... is everything ready?”

“I think so.”

“Then we’re in good shape.” Sheridan looked past Anderson to where Dureena was absently playing with a blade made of some dull red metal, with a curving surface like a Malay kris. Her glance up at him was still far from trusting.

Anderson noted it, and said to him quietly, “I see... And what does the phrase
in good shape
mean on the planet where you live?”

Sheridan shot him a look and left the bridge.

The
Charon
emerged from hyperspace and headed for the spacedock.

Drake ran down the winding corridors of the interior of the spacedock, past the engine room that supplied the power for the dock’s many duties, past the mess and storage facilities. He had only a few minutes before he had to report to Sheridan on
Excalibur
. But he knew that Cora had arrived from Babylon 5, and he couldn’t wait to see her. She had to be in the oxygen regeneration area.

His footsteps made muffled pounding sounds as he ran down the final, long corridor leading to the oxygen regeneration area. He went through the double sealing doors and found himself in a tumbling mass of greenery. At the far end of the big room, he made out a slim figure in a red jumpsuit.

Cora!

He hugged her tightly to him, breathing in her fragrance. She responded with a smile and a kiss on his cheek.

“Oh, my dear,” he said, breathless, “how happy I am to see you!”

Cora smiled radiantly. “Hello, Samuel. It’s wonderful to see you. It’s all wonderful. Look... look at this!”

She held out a purple and silver badge. Drake stared at it, uncomprehendingly.

“What is it?”

“Top security clearance! I needed it to get aboard the spacedock. How about that--little old me with a top security clearance! One of the guards almost saluted me!”

“That’s really great,” Drake said. Strangely, he found he was annoyed. She actually seemed more impressed by her silly clearance than at seeing him.

Then he reminded himself that she was young, very young. She’d need to grow into a proper appreciation of what was genuinely important. He would educate her...

She spoke up again, and asked him, “What’s all the excitement about? So many people running around!”

“There’s an official inspection coming tip soon,” he told her. “President Sheridan himself is on his way here, and I have to be prepared. But first, Cora, how are you? Isn’t it wonderful that we---”

“I’m
great
,” she replied brightly, cutting him off. “I can’t believe how well my job is going. At first I was afraid of Professor Chapenton. He’s in charge of our section, you know, and he’s got this very stern look. But he’s a dear, actually. And he says I’m doing good work! That’s why they sent me here! And a good thing they did! Just
look
at these leaves!”

Drake looked at a mass of green in a big vat. “What about them?” he asked.

“Unmistakable signs of mold! Good thing they got me out here when they did! I’ve got an eye for details like this!”

Drake controlled his impatience with some difficulty. Cora could be very silly at times, chattering away about inconsequential matters. If he weren’t so sure of her feelings toward him, he could almost think she was more excited about her stupid job than about seeing him. “Cora, please, there’s something I want to tell you---”

“Oh, good! I have something to tell you, too. Wonderful news!”

“Really, what is it?”

“Rory sent me a package! All the way from Sioux City--on Earth! You can’t
imagine
the expense! I told you about Rory, didn’t I?”

Drake vaguely remembered her saying something about some high school boy back home. A silly-sounding fellow, one of those dim-witted jocks, with a letter in some sport or another.

“Well, he sent me roses! They didn’t hold up too well, but they were definitely roses. And he sent me a poem. Can you
imagine
, Rory writing a poem? I mean, he’s a business major.”

“I can imagine it only with great difficulty,” Drake said. He was beginning to experience a curious detachment, as though all this weren’t actually happening. Detachment, and...

“And in this poem-this is the most wonderful part--he
proposed
. Rory proposed to me! Can you
believe
it?”

Drake just stared. Detachment was the only thing he had left now, his shield against the painful violence of his feelings. Her words had shattered his delusions, reminded him of who he was: Martian-born, someone no Earth girl could ever love.

Finally he found something to say. “I didn’t know he was serious about you. You never said---”

“I know,” Cora said. “That’s because I never dreamed I had a chance. Oh, we went out a few times, and I helped him with his classwork. But after he moved away, and I got the job on Mars, I never imagined... And then
this
. I’m so happy, I don’t know what to say.”

Drake spoke carefully, reaching for a glimmer of hope. “A proposal in a poem--it might simply be poetic license---”

“But then he called all the way from Earth. It must have cost him the world! He called and proposed.” She laughed. “It didn’t rhyme this time, but I said yes anyhow.”

“You accepted? But...”

“You think it was crazy? Oh, it wasn’t, really. While we were separated, I realized I’ve loved Rory for years.” She looked at Drake with her big blue eyes--eyes that he noticed for the first time were a little insipid. “Oh, Samuel, it’s so good to have you to talk to. You’re like a brother to me-a brother I never had.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Drake said, feeling like death inside. Stiffly, he forced himself to speak anyway. “My sincere congratulations, Cora. But now you’ll have to excuse me. I’m wanted on
Excalibur
.” He started to walk away.

“I’ll see you before I leave, won’t I?”

“Oh, I’m sure. I mean, I’ll try. But if not, there’s always E-mail.” He hurried away, not trusting himself to say another word, only knowing that his dream had been shattered, shot down before it even had a chance to fly.

All that lay ahead of him now was a chance to show them all who he was, and how little they had reckoned with Samuel Drake.

Once again, Sheridan was impressed by the sheer size of
Excalibur
, the impression it gave of brute strength. But he was reacting to more than the machine. He liked this ship. It gave him a rare feeling of correctness. Something about the proportions, perhaps, or the busy vistas of corridors, compartments, rooms, multilevel spaces... it gave him a feeling he had experienced looking at ancient architecture-the Parthenon of Athens, the Colosseum of Rome, the Second Imperial Palace on Minbar--a feeling of beauty combined with rightness.

The
Excalibur
, he knew, was a classic. And that it was a classic of the future made it all the more rare, and endearing. Without quite knowing how it had happened, Sheridan had already formed a strong attachment to this ship.

Drake came down the corridor, moving toward him on the run, an odd look of panic on his face.

“Mr. President, I’m sorry, we’re not ready. We didn’t think you’d be coming back so soon, l---”

“Quite all right,” Sheridan said. “Drake, this is Captain Anderson and Dureena Nafeel. I brought them along to see the tour.”

“I see,” Drake said. “This is quite irregular. They haven’t been cleared---”

“And some of their friends,” Sheridan continued.

The EarthForce personnel from
Charon
came pouring around the corner behind him, in full battle gear and armed to the teeth. They moved past Drake without even seeming to notice him.

“No, no!” Drake said in alarm. “This is out of--We don’t have the facilities for--You can’t go in there!” he called after the last of them.

“Of course they can,” Sheridan said, putting an arm around Drake’s shoulders and firmly moving him toward the bridge. “Now, tell me that part again about how the systems were designed to use standard EarthForce controls. That means there won’t be much of a curve involved in learning to run this thing, am I right?”

“Well, yes,” Drake said. “But---” Dureena and Anderson watched as Drake let Sheridan guide him away. They exchanged glances: Sheridan was handling this man well.

But why did Drake need such handling?

Garibaldi had lost no time, once he’d discovered that Sheridan had left without telling anyone, using the destroyer
Charon
to slip away unnoticed. He didn’t know what in hell was going on, but he was determined to find out, and to be in on it.

His thoughts ranged widely through possibilities. Maybe Sheridan finally had gone around the bend, turned completely crazy. He’d always had that imperious need to act on his own thinking, no matter what anyone else thought. And Garibaldi thought back, remembered when Sheridan had cut all ties between Babylon 5 and Earth.

At the time, Garibaldi had fought Sheridan tooth and nail, accused him of acting like a man with a messiah complex. Garibaldi subsequently discovered that he himself was being telepathically influenced by that little Hitler, Bester, but that didn’t change the inescapable fact that Sheridan had the habit of acting on his own grandiosity.

Of course, there was the possibility that Sheridan wasn’t crazy at all, that he knew something no one else knew. Something he couldn’t reveal at this time.

Garibaldi didn’t know which was true. But there might be a way of finding out.

He was standing beside a communication monitor, with a Minbari Ranger working the controls, trying frantically to get through to Drake.

“I repeat, this is White Star 90 to Samuel Drake... Please respond.”

Finally the Ranger said, “No good, sir. They’re blocking us.”

“Damn!” Garibaldi responded.

“It doesn’t make any sense, sir,” the Ranger said. “Why would he go back there? It’s not as if he’s going to steal the new ships, or any---” He stopped, reacting to Garibaldi’s look. “He wouldn’t!”

“If he thought he needed them,” Garibaldi said, “and he thought he was right... he’d do it.”

The bridge of the
Excalibur
was a beehive of purposeful activity. The men and women of Earth-Force were moving to stations similar to those they had known on other ships, checking out instruments that, if not identical to those they had operated, were at least similar enough to let them do their jobs.

Here and there were quick, low-voiced conversations as personnel checked out momentarily baffling situations with their friends and colleagues and came up with quick, efficient solutions.

Sheridan was proud. He had taken half of
Charon
’s complement with him to
Excalibur
. The other half were with Anderson aboard the
Victory
. The two men were in constant radio communication. Dureena watched all this without comment, but couldn’t help but be impressed by the purposeful air of these soldiers.