disclaimer: BABYLON 5, Ivanova, Talia, and all characters and situations thereof, are all rights and © J. Michael Straczynski and Babylonian Productions. This is a not-for-profit effort for the purpose of fan-to-fan appreciation of some wonderful characters :). an old haunt story finished for the 'spooky' mindwalkers challenge, october 2001. i only fulfilled the 'station' criteria. *lol* this story begins in one style, and will possibly end in another. enjoy!

boo!

It was a Dark and Stormy Night. It was a goosebumpily, chain rattling, disembodied moaning, ax murdering kind of Night. Actually, it was a night in deep black space, in Epsilon sector, to be exact, where a giant rotating space station called Babylon 5 sat pretty as can be. Tonight, however, that space station was experiencing the weirdest, spookiest phenomenon its occupants ever laid eyes upon. It was a Dark and Stormy Night, and it was happening right in viewing distance of the station.

*RRRUMMBLERRUMBLE*

"Did you feel that??" Commander Susan Ivanova snapped, all tense and alert and looking mighty spiffy in her Earthforce uniform as she gazed out Command and Control's bay window. Everyone on duty turned white and just nodded, too busy being scared to entertain the usual private thoughts about the attractive commander. Audible rumbles like the sounds of God's bowling pins crashing down in what was supposed to be the vacuum of space was pretty darn freaky.

*RRRUMBLRRUMMMBLE*

Jagged lightning suddenly flashed, its bony tendrils illuminating swirling, sinister clouds before disappearing from sight again.

*RRRUMBLRRUMMMBLE*

"Lt. Corwin! " Ivanova barked. "Anything from the latest scans of what's going on out there??"

The nervous lieutenant with the boyish good looks just shook his handsome head in bafflement.

"No Ma'am! Nothing's reading out there, just like the last three scan attempts!"

He watched furtively (and maybe rather longedly at the dark-haired commander), as Ivanova muttered a Russian oath and turned to worriedly view the spacescape lighting up again with the swirl of strange gas clouds and jagged lightning. It was definitely disturbing how the foreboding swirls seemed to look more and more like madly flying, giant apparitions....

"Where is Sheridan??" Ivanova griped, knowing exactly where her CO was at the moment, but rather preferred that the cocky captain be at the helm of C&C than herself. Apparitions or no, the freaky formations out there were unnerving her paranoid Russian sensibilities to say the least.

* * *

*Ding Dong*

Captain John Sheridan put on his most assertive, 'firm jaw of authority' look as he waited for Londo Mollari, the Centauri ambassador, to answer his door. With his most capable XO, Commander Ivanova, keeping an eye on the weird phenomenon out there, Sheridan was going to find out if the representatives from the other races could tell him anything about what was going on.

"They're coming for us!!" loudly and dramatically proclaimed the ambassador as he directed his aide, the much harried Vir, to pack his expensive garments.

"Who?" Sheridan interjected. Londo politely poured him another glass of Centauri wine.

"The 'Ghost Armada', the 'Fleet of the Thousand Lost Ships'!" whispered Londo in his thick accent. "Noone remembers in what Great War or in what Great Battle these ships were lost in, but it is said that they sail a specific course through the universe, and wherever or whatever the Ghost Armada passes through, they pick up live souls--worthy warriors and fighters, to replenish their ghoulish crews!"

"That's why we're leaving!" Vir Cotto added, tossing in more of Londo's silk underwear.

Sheridan couldn't help a guffaw.

"You consider yourselves potential candidates for this 'Ghost' Armada?"

"Certainly!!" Londo exclaimed, looking down his proud hooked nose at the captain. "And I'm not about to let them take me when I've far too much important work to do for the Centauri Republic! So if you need me further, Captain, I will be on Centauri Prime!"

And with that the haughty ambassador took a swig direct from the wine bottle and bade the captain leave.

"It is the storm that forebodes the Great Fear," Ambassador G'kar answered sagely, the captain now in the Narn's quarters as his host graciously poured him a potent Narn beverage. "The Fear passes like a ghost wind through space, time, and the dimensions of our known universe. Ominous sounds and light precede its arrival."

*RRUMMMBLLLE*

Both G'kar and Sheridan looked up briefly.

"When it arrives among the living, it brings supernatural occurrences, accidents, visions--ghosts. They say that the Ships of Wind pick up those who have been wicked, and add the cries of those damned souls to the eternal howl that accompanies their timeless journey..."

"Ya know," Sheridan interrupted, pleasantly feeling a little warm from that Narn beverage. "Londo's already left the station."

G'kar smashed his cup in his great big Narn fist.

"Damn." he muttered.

*Ding Dong*

"Captain," Ambassador Delenn responded warmly as she let Sheridan into her quarters. "You are here to ask about the strange phenomenon occurring outside the station, aren't you?"

"Indeed I am," Sheridan replied almost merrily. It was a good thing he had logged off duty before seeing the ambassadors. He may invite Delenn for a Jovian Sunspot or two, after their meeting.

"The 'Ghost Armada', hmm...." Delenn mused as she poured the captain one of her Minbari special bitter teas. "You could call it that. The Minbari believe the Ghost Wind comes like a cosmic gust to unsettle the debris of our existence and find the individual, sparkling gems which were obscured in our chaos. It gathers up those whose unique potential have not been realized, or those who have a great destiny to fulfill. It comes like a Promise."

"Hmm," Sheridan mused as well, in his best 'gruff captain' voice. "So the Ghost ships take the warriors, and the wicked, and now the most special among us.....any way we can avoid the situation?" he asked with a grin.

"It is said," Delenn volunteered with an answering smile, and Sheridan could have sworn that the ambassador's delicate, warm hand had lingered on his, just a bit. "That if the ones deemed promising have already found their place of destiny, the Wind shall not gather them up but allow them to stay."

Sheridan wanted to purse his lips in thoughtfulness but he was distracted by Delenn's smile.

"Well then," he added quietly. "We better find out what we're about and quick, don't we?"

****

"Jeepers, Creepers," was all Garibaldi said while running a perplexed hand through what was left of his hair. The impromptu command staff meeting he was sitting in just couldn't get any weirder, he privately thought.

Captain Sheridan was debriefing his staff on all the intriguing information he had received from the ambassadors. He instructed that Babylon 5 was to remain on red alert and that they would evacuate whoever wished to leave the station, including station personnel. With a skeleton crew, the captain intended to wait out the strange 'storm' phenomenon until it passed, seeing no immediate danger in it. Previously, a squadron of starfuries had been sent to investigate the 'storm' but had come up with zero readings. One brash pilot had volunteered to fly through the phenomenon, but was nixed by the captain. Unmanned probes had turned up nothing as well.

"So you think the station *won't* blow into smithereens if that thing passes through us?" Garibaldi had asked solemnly.

Everyone could see Sheridan ponder carefully as his chin jutted out.

"No Chief, I don't think so," Sheridan finally answered gravely, and ended the meeting.

Already all sorts of unexplained incidences were happening around the station. Black outs were occurring randomly in all the sectors. Doors and tube lifts were operating sporadically, as if they had a will of their own. Objects were spotted floating in the Fresh Air restaurant--while rotational gravity was in full effect. Inhabitants were hearing disembodied voices, or sighting apparitions of supposedly long dead acquaintances. Dr. Franklin reported that Barry Manilow would unexpectedly play on the medlab com, and he hated Barry Manilow. Garibaldi couldn't find any of his left shoes. Actually, that last bit was Ivanova's fault, because she was playing a practical joke on the security chief. However, at the moment, she was too busy being worried about this whole haunting thing to tell him that his left shoes were in a level four airlock in Blue Sector.

Ivanova hurried off duty. Sheridan had decided to take the com for the final approach of the weird storm now edging closer to the station and had given Ivanova one last task to complete. When she had tried to remain in C & C with him, John put his foot down.

"We've got nothing to worry about," he had stated in his 'don't disagree, I'm the Captain' voice. When Ambassador Delenn had entered the control center to join Sheridan at his side, Ivanova knew she couldn't argue anymore with him.

"Nothing to worry about, my ass," Ivanova muttered as she hurried to the ambassadorial wing of Green Sector. The worried commander had to weave doggedly as frantic people and aliens rushed about the corridors, hauling their hastily packed luggage. She knew that in the Zocalo, religious fanatics were already staging meditative sit-ins, waiting for the Ghost Ships to pick them up. Ivanova was pretty sure that any felon with a conscience was now wisely abandoning Down Below, hoping to stay a step ahead of the coming storm.

*RARARATHHRROOOOOMMMmmm*

Ivanova found the Dumarii delegation in a meeting room, kneeling in a ritual circle. As the low voices droned in a mesmerizing chant, the commander flagged down an aide and handed him the diplomatic satchel Sheridan had wanted personally delivered. Duty done, Ivanova made to leave, determined to head back to C & C. That was when she spotted her.

What is she doing here?? Ivanova thought in panicked surprise.

There, kneeling with the delegation, was the station's resident commercial telepath, Ms. Talia Winters, bending her pretty blonde head with all the other Dumarii folk. When the ritual finally ended and the telepath stood up, she looked with as much surprise at Ivanova as Ivanova was looking at her.

"Commander?" Ms. Winters questioned, in her distinct, husky voice.

"What's going on? Were you monitoring a negotiation for the Dumarii?" Ivanova asked in return.

"Yes, but now the delegation is going to board their shuttle to view a religious phenomenon that is occurring outside the station. That was what the prayer was for."

"Are you joining them??" Ivanova demanded incredulously. She didn't know why but the very thought of the telepath doing that made the commander feel such dread in the pit of her stomach.

Ms. Winters shook her head, her straight, shoulder length hair all shiny and fair.

"No, Commander, but they certainly wanted me to." Talia smiled and then looked a little self-conscious. "They said they found me rather special and wanted to share the experience with me."

"I bet," Ivanova replied in her best 'Russian cynic' voice. Realization was dawning on her like a vodka binge's morning after as Sheridan's words from the meeting echoed plain and clear in her mind. Alarmed, Ivanova knew what she had to do.

"Commander," Ms. Winters questioned softly, a little worried at the dark look on Ivanova's face. "Was there something I could do for you?"

"Yes," Ivanova stated emphatically. She grabbed the telepath's gloved hand. "Follow me."

Now Ms. Winters was so shocked she nearly forgot to close her pretty mouth. Commander Ivanova--that same commander who had this well known revulsion of Psi-Corps telepaths and the inclination to toss said telepaths out of third story windows--was holding Talia's hand....the "I can scan you with skin contact but in this case, intimate proximity" gloved hand. She would have enjoyed Ivanova's warm, firm grip, being, well, rather infatuated with the dark-haired Russian despite Susan being utterly rude most of the time, except now, as she willingly followed behind the commander, the telepath was sensing all sorts of fearful vibrations coming from all over the station.

The corridors Ivanova was hurrying Talia down were strangely deserted--abandoned belongings were scattered underfoot. For some reason the lighting was erratic, and there was an unidentifiable sound--strangely like a suffering person's eerie moaning--coming faintly from the air duct systems.

Frighteningly enough, sometimes it sounded like Barry Manilow.

"What's going on?" Talia asked worriedly, trying to keep the fearful tremor from her voice and also realizing that being sequestered for three days with the Dumarii delegation had her totally out of the loop.

"Unexplained phenomenon outside the station," Ivanova replied tersely as she hurried the telepath along. "Manifesting as some freaky space storm that's unscannable. Londo says it's the 'Ghost Armada' come to pick up warriors to replenish its crews--G'kar says it's the Ghost Wind that carries off the wicked. Delenn says it's this magnanimous, Hand of God thing that comes to scoop up the promising and special ones among us."

"And--and it's headed this way--right at the station?" Talia questioned, thinking of the Dumarii whom she was just with. They had explained the recent loud thunder-like noises as harmless manifestations of a 'spiritual phenomenon'.

"Right smack down port to starboard," Ivanova indicated with a grim, sweep of her hand. The commander hadn't slowed up one bit since they had started their rapid walk and Talia was getting a little breathless. Actually, if Babylon 5's command staff needed the telepath to somehow help to battle this thing, then Talia was ready to do all she could for the station.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked.

"I need you to get off the station," came Ivanova's sharp reply.

When Ivanova felt the gloved hand jerk out of hers, forcing her to come to a halt, the commander nearly yelled--with an intensity born mostly of worry and fear, mind you--at the now still telepath. But then the irate Russian saw the look on the telepath's pretty face and Susan couldn't help but go all silent and regretful for her 'commanding' ways.

"I always knew that you wanted to get rid of me, Commander, but I was hoping to be tossed out an airlock with a little dignity," Ms. Winters softly joked, and though Ivanova was impressed that the telepath was trying to make light of the situation, the fair-haired woman couldn't quite hide from the commander, the personal deep hurt in her blue-gray eyes.

"Look," Ivanova explained earnestly, feeling very contrite as she paced a bit before the telepath. " I'm sorry how I sounded. I only want you off the station when the Ghost Ships come because I think they'll take you."

Talia looked at her in bafflement.

"Why would they--"

"Because of what the Dumarii had said about you," Ivanova interrupted. "And because--well, 'special' ones could also mean 'gifted' ones, and what's telepathy but this extraordinary gift? You're telepathic and that would make you a valuable commodity to a freakin' Avenging Ghost Armada that roams the universe just to frighten the hell out of us, so I'm getting you off this station!"

And with that, Ivanova grabbed the shocked telepath's hand again and resumed dragging her down the darkened corridor.

In the flicker of the erratically lit corridors, Ivanova could catch sight of what looked like--ye gods, spirits--and hear such disturbing, unexplainable sounds as to send her shoulders creeping up to her ears--but like the advance of a one-woman army, the commander did not stop. Come hell or high water, she was getting Ms. Winters to the boarding terminal. Ms. Winters, on the other hand, was in a state of bafflement. The realization that the often hostile commander actually cared about the telepath's welfare wasn't the only shocker.

Talia's head swung about behind the commander's rigid back, trying to register what her eyes and ears were physically telling her but her telepathic powers were not backing up. There were definitely things--insubstantial, but unquestionably present, appearing and disappearing out of thin air. There was that haunting sound making her skin crawl. But despite all the strange sights and sounds, her psychic senses could not perceive a possible, paranormal presence. Even as she tried as hard as she could to telepathically reach out, it felt like she hit an impenetrable mental curtain. Perhaps spirits from some ghostly dimension did not have thoughts, or minds to detect--nothing in the Psi-Corps science journals ever prepared her for this. And what was worse, Talia could actually sense escalating fear emanating from the commander.

So Talia gripped the warm hand firmly wrapped around hers as reassuredly as she could.

The boarding terminal was complete bedlam. Garibaldi and his security team were up to their necks in hysterical aliens, lost children, and desperate loons who had the brilliant idea every ten minutes to try to pop an airlock in order to be the master of their own doom. Meanwhile, Ambassador G'kar was merrily helping the security chief out by directing the crowd control and tossing the impolite ones this way and that.

"G'kar!!" Garibaldi called over the chaos. "Shouldn't you be in your ambassador shuttle and heading for safety?!"

"I've donated the ship to those Narns who felt they should leave," G'kar shouted in reply. "I'm staying because if I can be taken by the Wind, perhaps I can persuade it to blow over to Centauri Prime, and empty the universe of such a despicable and worthless race!"

Garibaldi had to let out a hearty laugh at that one.

"Much luck to you, Ambassador!" he yelled good-naturedly. "You and me together!"

Finally, a rather pale and practically trembling Ivanova had reached the boarding terminal with the telepath in firm tow. Too many bodies stood crammed and desperate between her and the boarding gates. Just as the commander was about to take a deep breath and forge a path into the panicked throng, she felt a tug on her hand.

"What!" she demanded as she swung around to meet the concerned blue-gray eyes of the telepath.

"Commander, I shouldn't go," Ms. Winters argued. "I think I'm needed--"

"As commander of this station, I've decided Ms. Winters. If you don't like the decision, register a complaint later!" Ivanova interrupted, her bright blue eyes broaching no more protests. But the fair-haired telepath was not one for heeding warnings from a certain dark-haired Russian's flashing blue eyes.

"You decided?!--" Talia's deep and husky voice emitted in complete indignation, but before she could finish the thing or two she was about to inform the commander of, the telepath found herself dragged arm first right into the swarming crowd...

Security Chief Garibaldi was finding himself ear deep in freaking aliens and people and wondering if there would be any hair left on his head by the end of this crisis. Getting abducted by a Ghost Armada--or just these screaming folks getting whisked away by that damned phenomenon--was looking better and better to the harried chief.

"Garibaldi!!" came a familiar, strong shout behind him. He turned and nearly lost his jaw, seeing 'psi-phobe' Ivanova actually gripping the hand of Talia Winters.

"We've got to get Ms. Winters safely off the station!" Ivanova informed. "Which ship can I put her on?!"

"Commander--" came the rough and not surprisingly frustrated voice of the telepath.

"Hush!" Ivanova shushed.

Garibaldi didn't have to think twice about Ivanova's request as he looked rapidly around. he was pretty infatuated with the blonde telepath himself--especially when she was such a knock-out. And a good-hearted, warm personality--yeah, that too. Her safety would be a priority even if he had to personally kick a high-ranking diplomat out of his or her seat to get the telepath on a ship.

"No!! Not them!" Ivanova yelled, seeing Garibaldi turn his regard to the departing Dumarii. She felt Ms. Winters being dragged away from her by the crowd and took a moment to shove the aliens and people aside, placing the telepath firmly between herself and Garibaldi once again.

"G'kar!" Garibaldi indicated, pointing to the big Narn. "His ship can take Ms. Winters!"

Ivanova wrapped an arm securely around the telepath's slim waist and used the other to battle her way upstream to the Narn Ambassador.

"Susan--" she heard the telepath try.

"No, Talia!" Susan answered, not realizing that they had leapt to a first name basis.

"G'kar!!" Ivanova shouted up to the Narn when she reached his side. The ambassador took one look at Ms. Winters and nodded, indicating a boarding gate fiercely guarded by several Narns.

*KKRRRAATHHOOOOOM*

The departure terminal went quiet only briefly before the hysterical chaos resumed.

"That one actually shook the station," Ivanova observed worriedly.

"Susan--" Talia continued in breathless frustration, as the insistent commander pulled her through the gate to the waiting Narn shuttle. "Hasn't it occurred to you that perhaps none of the stories are true, and that this is just some mass hysteria mixed with mass hallucinations and that I might 'disappear' due more to a shuttle accident outside rather than from some strange storm that's about to pass through the station??"

"Narns are very good pilots with an excellent safety record," Susan muttered in reply. "And since when have you become an expert on mass hysteria?"

"Susan--" and the telepath's voice was desperate in its anger.

"TALIA," Ivanova acknowledged, as she dragged the poor telepath into the Narn craft. "Let me recite the Babylon 5 mantra to you: Ivanova is always Right, Listen to Ivanova, and never Disobey Her or She will rip your lungs out!"

"So sit tight," the commander added as she pushed the telepath into an empty seat and proceeded to strap her in. "And enjoy the ride!"

"YOU--" Talia angrily began, her red mouth indignant as she formed the word. "Are the most arrogant and prejudiced person I have ever met! Why I've bothered to try to be friends or something I don't know--"

"Then don't!" Ivanova shot back as she hopped out the door. She quickly stuck her head back in. "After this we may never see each other again, so be thankful for that!"

And the commander slapped down the hatch.

Susan ran like mad for the safety of the catwalk as she heard and felt the heat of acceleration hum to a powerful pitch from the ship behind her. One Earthforce sleeve came up to rapidly wipe at her eyes. Wipe her eyes?? For some reason--dammit, Ivanova was feeling really upset. Must have gotten some space soot in the eye. Try to do a telepath a favor--save her life even, from God knows what the heck is Out There and get nothing but grief for the trouble. Good riddance!!

The commander leapt the catwalk stairs by twos, becoming more angry. Now she'll go join Sheridan and see what this Ghost Armada was all about. And hopefully she'll be able to put out of her mind, that last sight she took with her of Talia Winters, of stormy blue eyes turned a pale, extraordinary gray.....

(to be continued!)

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