Ten years has passed since the end of the Earth-Minbari War. The Earth Remnant struggles to build a life for itself within the confines of Centauri owned space. But for the Minbari, the war wasn't final enough and the survival of humanity is a moral error. And for some humans, not enough has been done, and they feel a change is needed to keep Humanity not only alive, but with power.

Chapter 1: Icarus Lives

"Not again!" Jeffery Sinclair snarled as he was rudly awakened by the communications channel beeping at him from the wall in the living room. Insistently it continued to beep, until he flung the blanket off, and strode over towards the wall. He didn't even take the time to grab his robe he usually wore to address comms he recieved in middle of the night.

"Recieve transmission, audio only," he growled.

"Captain Sinclair," the voice of his second in command, Laura Takashima came through, "Sorry to disturb you sir."

"Whatever Laura," he grumped, "What is it this time?"

"We've captured the creature."


Sinclair looked at the creature, standing chained to the other wall. Behind him, like so many other cells on the station for the most violent of criminals, was an air-lock, that if need be would suck him out into space. The creature had already killed seven men from security and thirty-five from Down Below, the name they had given Brown Sector.

The creature was armored in black bio-armor. The stations doctor, Doctor Kyle, had been unable to determine anything about it, besides an almost symbotic relationship between the armor and the host. But, for all intents and purposes, it looked incredible tough. They had been unable to harm it with PPGs, so they had super freezed a room and pretty much froze him into submission.

Now Sinclair looked at him from the opposite side of glass, watching as he tried to jerk free from his restraints. His weapon that he had grafted onto his body had been sawn off, and blood had spilled all over the floors of the prison.

"Who are you and why are you on board this station?" he asked, for perhaps the seventh time in just as many minutes.

"I am ambassador of Icarus," the creature replied, repeating the same line again and again.

"Icarus is a dead world," Sinclair responded.

"Icarus lives!" the creaturew snarled, thrashing against the chains, "I am it's ambassador!"

"This is a military base," Sinclair reminded him, "Not a diplomatic station."

"But-"

The security chief turned off the speakers to the room, leaving the alien to thrash around and scream without any listening to him.

"If he does anything stupid," Sinclair raised an eyebrow, "Space him."


Michael Garibaldi wipped his brow with the back of his hand, the sunlight seeming to melt him with the intensity of the heat. But, it seemed to do no good forthe sweat pouring down his face.

"Mr. Garibaldi," a voice said in the background, and he turned to see Alfred Bester come walking towards him.

"What do you want?" he asked, grumpy at the sight of the Psi Cop.

"Hey now," Bester said, a hand behind him and his other in a small fist infront of him, "Is that anyway to greet the man who got you off of Io during the last days of the war?"

Garibaldi rolled his eyes, "What of it?"

Bester shrugged his shoulder, "Oh, you know, I could have left you for the post-treaty attack on Io. That would have put a damper on a lot of my plans."

"Fine by me," he snapped, "Now will you please go away? I am busy at the moment."

"With what?" Bester shot back, "Babysitting a bunch of mundane archeologists as they try to dig into five miles of ground to find out what is beneath us here on Epsilon 3?"

"It pays well," he shrugged, "With Mr. Edgars running Interplanetary Expaditions, he needs security."

Bester blinked twice at him, "Don't forget. You have a debt you still need to pay me."

"That account has been settled," Garibaldi growled.

"It's not until I say so," Bester smiled back.