Insert a couple of years of adventures, until July ’70. Zack Jr. is 2 months and 2 years old, Angel is a month away from turning 8, Lyta has long finished her training and has worn a Ranger Uniform for past year. After an incident of saving a whole lot of people, her face was all over the news, so she was quietly retired from ‘undercover’ spy stuff. Still works as important courier.
July, 2270
Lyta was on another mission when her flyer was found by hostile aliens. She survived with a killer headache, cut face, concussion, exhaustion, and various burns, they didn’t (Telekinesis is great when used properly), and she had franticly started repairs on her all-but-destroyed flyer when she felt her little ship being moved. Comm system was down, as was almost everything else (engines, main life support, thrusters, navigation), but she manages to send her powers to look outside, sees it’s an Earthforce vessel, and knows she’s safe. Tried to put herself into healing trance (almost makes it, a.k.a. she passed out) as her damaged fighter was tractored into the ship’s landing bay.
She woke up in medlab a couple of hours later, her forehead stitched up, burns had been treated, and the headache had faded. A Lt. was nearby, he waited for Lyta’s head to clear then said "The captain saw your ship drifting and had it pulled in. They found some wreckage of the ship that shot at her, it must have been caught in a really strong gravity whirlpool because it was just ripped apart. Your ship’s systems have had a few additional repairs, just enough to ensure it won’t blow up in the hangar. More assistance will be given if requested. When you're ready, I will take you to meet the Captain."
Lyta nodded tenderly, and asked what ship she’s on.
"The Captain said you were to speak to her right away, Ma’am. She seemed eager to meet you." He lead her to the captain’s quarters, not saying another word along the way.
Lyta’s jaw dropped for a second in recognition as the Captain thanked and dismissed the Lt.
"Susan?!"
Ivanova laughed, then got up from her seat and hugged Lyta’s stuffing out. "Damn, it’s good to finally see you again!" Ivanova was all smiles.
"This is the Warlock?!"
"Yup! Isn’t she a beauty? Gads, but you look good. I never gave up hope on you waking up. Here, have a drink. Sit! Relax for a few, we have some serious catching up to do!" She found a glass and pressed it into Lyta’s hand.
"What? Oh. No thank you, I don't drink. I didn’t know you were so close! I haven’t heard news from you since the message you left with Angel – when was it?"
"I last saw her about a year ago. Gads, she’s going to be a spitting image of you. Since I hadn’t actually met her before – just those few calls between us - we got to talk about all sorts of things. I’d asked if you were around and her grin faded and she said you were away for a while. For a second I though you hadn’t woken up yet – then little Z toddled into the room - and while I was being confused Angel picked up on it and said, ‘No, no, auntie, she’s on a courier run. She’ll be back in another 3 weeks. She’s a Ranger now!’ Proud as hell of you. ‘I want to be a ranger, too, just like her.’ And then I was treated to a verbal dissection of the various boys in her class at school. Beware of some kid named Jamie, she doesn’t seem to be flat-out disgusted by his very existence-"
"Jamie is the name of the class pet. He’s a fish."
Ivanova laughed. "That explains it. But I have a bone to pick with you. Why wasn’t I told there was a Zack Jr?!? Oh, what a nice surprise that was. Well, until he peed on me. Dumb diaper leaked."
Lyta smiled wryly. "Little Z was very much an ‘Oops!’ but I love them both very much, and Zack adores them. I do the best I can, for all of my family. I can't talk about the kids over stellarcom - some of the messages I carry for the alliance - I can't endanger them."
Susan nodded, understanding.
"That's why I kept my mother's last name, for travelling, anyway. I'm listed as an Allan on B5, and if you look at the mars medical records. Both my babies are Allans, too. But the rest of the universe calls me Alexander. But that's enough about me for now. How the bloody blue hell are you? And correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought I saw a familiar face on the walk here. One I'd never think to see around you - another teep. Passing the pilot's ready room? You're nodding, so you must know who I'm talking about. Nervous little fellow, about ten years younger than me? I used to tutor him in university-level physics. Named Harriman?"
"Gray, yeah, he's ok. We get along alright. When they gave me this beauty, the brass told me I needed to bring along a military teep for first contact situations. I told them to F off. This was when the Corps was still around, you realise. They had a finger in everything. I sulked for a few days, then remembered all those shadow-allied ships that bailed from Z'Ha'Dum. I do wish you'd been able to blast that place a little faster. I'd be able to visit earth again. But we can't change the past, just hope that the Excaliber et al. come through. Where was I? Oh yeah.
"Why Gray's here. If teeps could jam shadow cruisers, why not their allies? So I told the corps that I wanted someone who a) had been able to jam Shadows at least once, and b) who'd spoken out against Clark. I figured, no-one would be able to match those two points and still be willing to work for me, right? Wrong. There were over a dozen who had fought the shadows and who'd been arrested for talking back about Clark. My first thought was 'I'm screwed!' As soon as I piss one of these fellows off, they tell the Corps I'm a latent, and then I'm in it, *deep*. Then I realised I knew one of the names, I'd met him my first year on B5. He'd saved Sinclair's career. He was both terrified of me, and had an obvious crush. And, I had an ace up my sleeve on him. He was nuts about flying. But, military teeps weren't allowed to back then. No one who wasn't a Psi Cop could fly, not if anyone elseknew they were a teep. So, I said he could come as long as he stayed far away from me or I'd personally space him, and to hell with the consequences.
He showed up a couple of weeks later, convinced he was up for death over pissing someone off. Those old stories about me killing teeps seemed to work really well for keeping them away from me in general, but he still followed orders and came. I reminded him of the spacing sans suit rule, and added that since he once had flight status, 'far away' included a starfury on patrol, and that he should report to the wingleader for retraining as soon as he unpacked - and after he picked his jaw up off the deck, of course. And if he whispered even a single word about breaking the rules, he'd fly without a helmet. I mean, he was only useful as a telepath a couple of days out of every few months or years, I might was well keep him busy, right? It turned out he's a damned good pilot.
"When the corps was broken, he's about the only military teep who stayed on his assignment. Because he spent more time flying than even sleeping, he though this was the best timeof his life. I stopped hating him 'bout . . . a year and a half after he got on board, when this old bit of shadow tech nearly fragged us. He nearly died saving us, too. Afterwords, when getting replacement crew, I went through family histories of every earthforce officer who wanted to sign on to the Warlock - there were lots, she's a damn good ship - and made sure to pick as many as possible who had parents or siblings or a kid who was a teep, on the hunch that there might be some latents hiding in them. I had over a dozen teeps, all dead-loyal to me because they knew I'd never turn them over to the corps, when we found that vorlon antique in that damned asteroid belt. Only thing that saved us, they were. You might have heard an edited version on the ISN archives after you woke up, right? Right. Want a refill?"
"No, thank you, one was more than enough for me. I've never been one for alcohol."
"Suit yourself. So that's why you saw your old physics student in a flightsuit. Problem with Gray? Heck no. Nooo, my current problem isn't with Gray. And I figured as soon as I saw your little ship - well - saw you were alive and going to heal - I figured maybe you could help. It wouldn't be hard, and I've worked with you before, so I know you can be trusted. My current problem is, after one little incident, earthforce added one of those stupid 'political officers' to my crew to help keep my temper in line. That would only be an annoyance, however, but he has somehow gotten the wrong ideas about 'us'. He's started to pay way too much attention to me, and I don't mean in the good sense. He gets into my quarters - don't ask me how he breaks the code - and he leaves 'gifts'. Ones not appropriate for a captain to receive from a crew member. *He* says that since he's technically not in the chain of command, there should be no problem with 'us'. And he's as damned persistant as he is ugly. I keep telling him he's not even close to my type, but he won't give up! He keeps trying to touch me! And I can't toss him off the ship and I can't punch him out! But . . . I have an idea to get him out of my room, on a permanent basis, since he's a prude in some aspects."
"You just got that little gleam in your eyes. I'm not sure I know, or like, where this is going."
"Here," Ivanova refilled Lyta's drink, "you'll need this."
"I don't - want . . . any . . . more . . . why?"
Ivanova stood up, went over to a cupboard, and pulled a box out of it. "Here. This is his latest. I haven't opened it yet." She tossed the brightly wrapped package onto Lyta's lap. "Be my guest."
Lyta carefully untied the bow and lifted the top off. "Oh my lord! This is the kind of-"
"Yup." Ivanova took another sip from her own glass.
"Jeez, even I don't wear this sort of stuff for Zack. Well not much. I've worn some wild things, let me assure you, but this . . . No." Lyta held it up against herself for a moment. "Nice enough, I guess, but there isn't enough of it. But I suppose that's the point. Why'd you want my help, to deck him without worrying about losing rank? Ok."
"Umm . . . no, not exactly. But it might come to that."
"Then what?"
"Well . . . I want to show him in a way he can't miss that I'm not interested. I need you for that."
"Whhhy . . . "
"I want you to sleep with me."
Lyta's jaw hit the floor. "What?!?"
"I want you to sleep with me."
Lyta picked her adbandoned glass up and took a large gulp. "That's a joke, right?"
"No, not really."
"Susan, there had better be a hidden camera around, or at least a punchline. So explain."
"I - want - you - to - sleep - with - me. How hard can it be to understand?"
Blinking, Lyta decided that it would be a good moment to empty her glass. "Captain Ivanova. I am married. To a MALE! And we've got kids! I haven't been with another girl since - I don't know - before I got out of school! And you're propositioning me?!?"
"What? Oh! No, no, no. I wasn't being euphimistic, I was being literal! I just want you to sleep next to me, not do anything. Well I hope we won't have to do anything, he better not be perverted enough to want to watch or something-"
"That's a joke, right? This entire conversation is a sick, twisted, evil joke. Please tell me it is."
"No. I'm serious, Lyta. I need someone I can trust. I'll behave! It just needs to LOOK like something has happened between us, if - when - Peterson - that's his name - walks in."
"Just how would 'this' help? And what do you mean by 'watch'?!"
"I think Peterson wouldn't get the message unless he saw us together-"
"No! No way! I'm not going to cheat on Zack, not after all he's DONE for me!"
Ivanova reached over to grab Lyta's face to make the ranger look at her. "Lyta! Calm down and listen to me! I am *not* asking you to have sex, or even to kiss me! Ok? . . . ok? Now unkrinkle your forehead and pay attention. Sleep NEXT TO me. Didn't you ever have sleepovers as a kid?"
"I was bred by and born into Psi Corps. We had dorms. And strict rules about where we had to be at every second." Her reply was flatly annoyed.
"Well, that bites. . . Look, we'd just sleep next to each other, no funny stuff. And Peterson would do his usual walk in uninvited bit, see us, assume 'things', and hopefully never bother me like that again. And maybe a word or two from you, restating he's not my type - if it's done right, the crew won't clue in but he will. Please, Lyta? I need someone I can trust, and that's YOU."
"I'm not going to have to wear *this*, am I?"
"No, not if you don't want to. I sure as heck don't - hey . . . Want to keep it for Zack? I'm never going to wear the damned thing."
There was a pause while Lyta held the scanty garment at arm's length and looked at it. "Well maybe if it fits and I know the kids can crash at Shawn's for a night . . . then maybe . . . I don't think it'll fit me, though."
"If you want to try it on, go ahead."
"No, that's ok. I have to go check on my ship, start repairs. I'll think about your offer. . . I do have to admit, sharing a double bed is a little nicer than trying to doze off in a chair. There's no room to sleep properly on my flyer."
"I offer you more room, and a decent mattress."
"It's flat, too. How long since you've tried to sleep on a minbari bed?"
Ivanova laughed.
"Rhetorical question. Did you even bother to arrange a bunk for me with the enlisted girls? That's where I'd usually crash if I needed to hitch a ride on an earthforce cruiser."
"I didn't arrange seperate quarters for you, no. Well, look at it this way. You don't have any luggage, and your ship is going to take almost three days to fix - that's two nights - and we're going in the same direction you were anyway, so the crew won't think on it much. We've picked up rangers - well, human ones - before. You're better looking than most, so I'm pretty sure the crew won't object to working with you. All part of the duties of being an alliance member world. I'll find my spare nightgown for you, it'll be more comfortable than used undies to sleep in. And the sonics in my *personal* restroom are a decent size, for being shipboard."
"You're going to spoil me, Susan." Lyta half-grinned as she stood up again. "I have to get to work on repairs. Will you let me know when it's time to eat? I'm guessing the cooks on board are tolerable at their jobs, more so than repackaged meals."
"Dinner's in about 3, 4 hours. I'll sent someone to drag your brains out from the bulkheads and show you to the mess hall. Consider it an invitation to dine with me. In the meantime, I'll walk you back to the shuttle bays. I demand to hear more about your kids!"
~~~~
"So, how'd the second shift do?" Ivanova asked through the bathroom doorway as they changed out of their respective uniforms.
"There seemed to be a lot of helpers. Mostly males with wandering eyes," Lyta laughed. "You were right, they don't object to working with me. They'll be disappointed when they figure out the ring on my hand is serious. You decent?"
"Sure, come back in. See? I told you taking the hour off to eat would be worth it."
"None of the would-be helpers had little or no experience in repairing minbari-vorlon hybrid systems, they could barely hold the light. But it was nice to have other people to talk to. Which side do you want?"
"Well I'm used to the middle, but you can take the left. So. Now what?"
"What happens if Peterson walks in? And how do I know which person is him?"
"Butt-ugly, whiny voice, and an attitude that instantly make you want to pound his lumpy little skull in. He wears a suit instead of casual civves or a uniform. Trust me, everyone else on boards hates the weasel. Even I can sense that. If you sense approaching slime from down the hall, warn me, ok?"
"If he comes in, then what?"
"Improvise romance? Ok! Ok, don't glare at me like that. Just snuggle up or something. He has to think we've . . . you know."
"Right," Lyta said dryly. "As if you could possibly compare to Zack."
"Hey, just for the record, I'm a good lover."
"Yeah, as if! How long has it been for you? Wait, don't answer that. But I do know my husband's got at least a decade's worth of practice more than you do, by age alone. He is *good*! And never a whisper more shall pass these lips. But . . . back to creeps . . . what about your unwanted suitor?"
"Scan him as much as you can, Lyta. When he starts to hit a danger zone - like if he wants to watch - um - I know, pull that 'why whould I want YOU near me' routine like you did on those pilots back in '61, on B5. It worked great."
Lyta sighed. "Ok, I guess. I trust you to behave, and I'd rather do this than to have tried to fix my ship before it would have drifted off the beacons. That's happened too often, and even a cat only has nine lives. Thank you, by the way."
"You're welcome. I thought your nickname was fox, not cat."
"I'll only let you call me a fox if you agree to be called a bear."
"Hey!" Ivanova scowled.
"Cranky old russian bear, named Ursula. Or so the rumors go. Good night."
Ivanova humph'd. "I'm not a bear. 'Night."
There was a short pause, then: "What rumors?!?"
~~~~