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The Geometry of Vengeance

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This story is No. 6 in the series "Correcting Past Mistakes". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: There's an old Earth adage: 'As you sow, thus shall ye reap.' Much to their sorrow, the Streib have learned exactly what the fruits of their harvest entailed.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > Babylon 5GreywizardFR1511,3081154,33327 Aug 1227 Aug 12Yes
Disclaimer: They all belong to either Joss and ME or J. Michael Straczynski (and possibly Warner Bros., too). Deal with it. I have.

Time Frame: Some indefinite time after the Babylon 5 season two episode, 'All Alone in The Night,' for the Babylon 5 characters, and approximately two hundred and seventy years after the conclusion of the current arc of my 'Correcting Past Mistakes' series for BtVS. A brief glimpse into one possible future that might evolve from the series, and a follow-up to my earlier story, 'Portents and Retribution.'

Spoilers: None for either of the two series, since previous events have made both series' canon storylines irrelevant.

Character Bashing: Uh-uh. But requests can be emailed in, and I'll be glad to consider some.

Feedback: Of course!

Archiving: Talk to me first, please.

Author’s Note 1: Many thanks to Bill Haden and Theo (Starway_Man) for beta-ing this story.

Author’s Note 2: As usual, "word" indicates speech, :: word :: indicates mental communication and { word } indicates a character's thoughts.

Author’s Note 3: This is story #27 for the 2012 August Fic-A-Day Challenge.

~~~

Babylon 5 Station
In orbit around Epsilon III
Epsilon Eridani Star System

Flannery's Pub
The Zócalo

October 14, 2259


Babylon 5's currently off-duty Chief of Security, Michael Garibaldi, settled himself into a more comfortable position within the self-adjusting chair at the small table off to the side of the bar, and reached out to adjust the angle of the table's entertainment screen.

Cynthia Torqueman was just beginning the introduction to her latest '36 Hours' segment, and this particular episode was definitely one he didn't want to miss, considering the interest that he and the rest of his extended family had concerning the Streib.

As ISN's motto 'The Galaxy's Most Important Network' scrolled periodically across the base of the screen, Garibaldi focused his attention on the blonde investigative reporter's narration.

Snorting derisively at her brief portrayal of the Streib as 'a somewhat secretive, reclusive and xenophobic race, who intermittently engage in infrequent and isolated trade relations with representatives of other species' – a description obviously inserted at the request of some Earth Alliance politicians – Garibaldi decided before he then broke into a wide, approving smile as Torqueman began describing the latest news and rumors regarding attacks on both outlying Streib outposts and their homeworld, as well as the ongoing harassment of their shipping convoys by unidentified groups of 'pirates' and 'terrorists.'

{ Well, you morons, it's just like Nanna said: 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,' } the one-time Earth Alliance Defense Force 'groundpounder' (or 'gropo', as they were sometimes called) murmured reflectively as he watched Torqueman offer a very brief – and quite lacking in detail – history of the Streib's interactions with the various other races known to the Earth Alliance.

"And I'm also guessing you bastards don't much like being the ones who're being done unto, now, do you?" he grinned viciously as a short film clip showed the extensive devastation suffered by the Streib homeworld and allegedly inflicted on "the unsuspecting and defenseless civilian populations by apparent renegade groups of ruthless and uncaring xenophobes," according to one nameless and virtually faceless government drone who had been interviewed by the blonde-haired journalist.

"Well, I suppose you're half-right, you sanctimonious asshole," Garibaldi told the image pontificating on the table's screen.

"Once you piss the 'Great-Grands' off, I can't think of anyone who could possibly be any more ruthless than they are," the Chief Warrant Officer informed the clearly clueless political hack.

"But calling them 'uncaring xenophobes'? Now that is as far from the truth as you could get," he added, as he took a sip of his ice-cold butterbeer.

"You wouldn't be talking about us, now, would you, Mikey?" Michael heard someone ask from behind him, and he turned his head to see two extremely lovely women and a tall, dark-haired man, all of them appearing to be in their mid-to-late twenties, standing a short distance away.

"Nanna! Nanny! Pops! How are you guys doing?!" Garibaldi exclaimed, a wide, delighted smile on his face as he quickly got to his feet to greet the trio of newcomers with ardent and enthusiastic hugs.

"We're all doing quite well, Mikey," the auburn-haired beauty replied as she gave him a hug and a quick kiss on his right cheek.

"Or perhaps it would be better to say, we're doing as well as can be expected, given the circumstances," the redhead immediately qualified her reply, as a momentary expression of grief and loss crossed her face

"Everyone in the family is as healthy and doing as well as could be hoped for, Mikey," the classically beautiful blonde informed him with a small smile as she stepped up and hugged him, before kissing him on his left cheek.

"So, how're you doing, Mike?" the tall, dark-haired man accompanying the two beauties inquired as he stepped in and embraced the security in a fierce bear hug.

"Eh, not too bad, Pops," Garibaldi opined with a shrug when he was finally released by the other man. "Things here have been getting a little rambunctious lately, what with the way all the problems have been developing between the Narn and the Centauri, and how everybody's been worrying about the Drafa Plague and how it seems to have killed off all of the Markab.

"Add that to the usual mix of idiots and nutcases we get traveling through this place, and it's just a matter of time before someone does something stupid," Michael noted with a Gallic shrug.

"Why don't we head on down to my quarters, and you can give the lowdown on how the rest of the family is doing?" Michael suggested, as he gave the area another evaluating glance.

Garibaldi suddenly frowned slightly, as he noted the presence on the other side of the Zócalo of a... certain individual. The seemingly always-smiling individual Captain Sheridan had had him detain two weeks earlier, a dark-haired man identified only as Mr. Morden.

Normally, Garibaldi knew, he'd just ignore the guy, since the station was the main terminus for this sector, so every con artist, swindler and lowlife in the sector would eventually pass through here. But he very much didn't like the thought that Morden might be watching him – or, more importantly, possibly watching his family.

"Relax, Mikey. We'd already noticed our apparent admirer," the woman carrying documents which identified her as Anne Harris (and who had once been known as Anya Jenkins, nearly three hundred years ago, on Earth) said as she put her hand on the Security Chief's arm in a reassuring manner.

"And considering the matchless beauty of the two women who've deigned to tolerate our presence, Mike, it's quite understandable that anyone with a 'Y' chromosome should be watching us," Alex Knight (who had, nearly three centuries earlier, gone by the names Alexander Potter and Alexander Harris) told his many-times-great-grandson with a smile which was simultaneously both joking and sincere.

"And we've been aware of him and some of his associates for some time, now, Mikey," Beth Potter (who had been born Buffy Anne Summers, nearly three hundred years ago) told her many-times-great-co-grandchild with an encouraging smile, "so there's no need for you to worry about him, at all."

"The thing is, kiddo, we've come across some information recently which would indicate that our admirer's – more reclusive associates – might have been encouraging the Streib in their general behavior and their more antisocial attitudes regarding other races," Alex quietly informed Michael, his face losing all of the humor which had previously filled it, as the four of them began heading towards his quarters.

"Which means that, if that is true, then we'll have to make sure that said associates learn of our – disapproval – of their own behavior," Anne said, her teeth drawn back in a smile which would have given any halfway intelligent predator pause – up to and including the Shadows themselves.

"And why our little group earned the nickname 'Ragnarok' all those centuries ago."

~/~/~

A/N: the events of 'Portents and Retribution' happened on July 3, 2259, so it’s been a few months since then with regards to the events of this story. As for the Vorlons and the Shadows, what can I say other than, "We are all Kosh," and "What do you want?"

~/~/~

The End

You have reached the end of "The Geometry of Vengeance". This story is complete.

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