Why Can’t I? "Oh shut up!" Ivanova launched a pillow at the Babcom unit. "It's 5 o'clock in the morning, for chrissakes!" She eased herself tentatively off the mattress, swinging her feet to the floor and letting her oversized head drop into her hands. Her romance with good Russian vodka was losing much of its luster. Convinced that the unsubsiding ache would not kill her, she lurched toward the shower. "Music!" she barked at the now silent comm system. A burst of static resolved into melody. "So many words for the broken heart." "I'll give you a couple of words," Ivanova muttered. "It's hard to see in a crimson love." /What the hell is a crimson love? / she wondered as she stripped off the purple nightgown. /I think I bloodied up a couple of people in that bar fight last night, but I wouldn't call any of them 'loves'. / "So hard to breathe." /After I kick the tar out of you, yeah/ "Walk with me, and maybe Nights of light so soon become." "Nights of light?" Her incredulous voice echoed in the shower stall. "Have you guys looked out a viewport lately?" "Wild and free I could feel the sun Your every wish will be done." /I could give you some wishes, baby, and they'd definitely be wild and free. / "Off!" she bellowed. "Turn that crap off!" Her quarters fell silent and she sighed. The shower soothed the aches -- not enough, but it helped. Slowly, gingerly, she dressed. Then, fortified with an analgesic and a strong cup of real coffee from her private stash, she made her way to the Zocalo. She was not pleased to find she had companions in the turbolift. She gave the Lorcans a nod and a near-smile, and took a position that did not require eye contact. Unfortunately, she could still hear them. "Show me the meaning of being lonely!" the younger one demanded, in an insufferably whiny tone. At least Ivanova thought he was younger. Didn't really understand the Lorcans. And didn't much want to. /He's not going to live to be the older one if he keeps using that voice around me. / Some sort of portable viewer crackled behind her. Lorcan technology, or at least the technology the Lorcans inherited. Holographic images danced about as the elder held the viewer out to his companion. /How long does this damn thing take to get to the Zocalo? / The voices that accompanied the display were, if it was possible, even whinier than the young Lorcan's. /Is 'whinier' a word? / she wondered as she drew a long breath. And punched the indicator panel one more time to be certain the turbo lift knew she was serious. It stopped at last, mercifully. And then... "So what have you learned?" the older Lorcan asked in a tone saccharine enough to sweeten coffee. Ivanova winced despite her resolve. "Let me show you!" came the delighted reply, and Ivanova barely had time to squeeze her eyes shut before the little apprentice started prancing around the car. "Is this the feeling I need to walk with?" he called to his mentor. "Is it? Is it?" Susan was a heartbeat from making sure he never walked again when the car doors finally opened on the Zocalo. Ivanova braced herself for the gauntlet she was about to run. Even at this hour, the marketplace was a sea of people, all of them hurrying, all of them shouting, all of them annoying. She sighed. /You can do this, / she told herself. /Just keep moving. / She elbowed her way through the crowds near the jewelry stall run by that irritating Joy person, and broke into a semi-clearing near the Universe Today dispenser. She could see the fire of Lyta Alexander's red hair glowing in the corridor ahead of her. "Tell me why I can't be there where you are," Lyta said to no one Susan could see. Though only a P1, Ivanova heard the reply in her head. "Because the next shipment of flammable chemicals won't be in until next week, Lyta, my willow, and besides, they won't let you play with a PPG on station." /Uh-huh. Right. OK. / Ivanova thought. She raised one eyebrow and shook her head. /Just keep walking. / Walking soon brought her upon the unlikely duo of Londo and G'Kar, arguing with their usual gusto. "There's something missing in my heart," Londo explained calmly to G'Kar, but the Narn would have none of it. "I have spoken to Doctor Franklin about this at length," G'Kar insisted, "and he assures me that he did not remove anything." "Well, here, then," the Centauri demanded, opening his coat, "*you* feel it!" A visible shudder went through Ivanova's frame. /Just keep walking./ Susan Ivanova was no stranger to hangovers. Perhaps she didn't do it up with quite the style of a Garibaldi -- no purple wombats or show tunes -- but she'd been here before. But never had she hallucinated. Until now. It was a hallucination, wasn't it? It looked like....Kosh? "Life goes on as it never ends," Kosh whirrbbled, as he floated by. /Kosh 3/, Susan thought. /Or was this 4?/ She shook her head. "You are all Kosh," she murmured. /You are all nuts,/ she thought. She was almost their now, she knew. She could pull this off if she just stayed focused. Down the stairs. Through the corridor. "How the hell..." escaped under her breath. She looked back over her shoulder incredulously. /Hadn't she just passed G'Kar? With Londo? Going the other way? / Now here he was, with a covey of students clustered about him. "Eyes of stone observe the trends," G'Kar explained, rolling his prosthetic eye between his fingers for the awestruck assembly of Narns to see. "They never say forever gaze. It is necessary to remove them for cleaning periodically." The queasy sensation that rose in Ivanova's gut was becoming more aggressive. She slid quickly past the group, into the darkened corridor beyond. She probably shouldn't come here alone. She knew that. But it was necessary, and besides, she could take care of... She grabbed the arm of the dark robed figure, shifted her weight into his body, and threw him handily over her back. He said only "ooofff" as his body bounced off the bulkhead. /And they made a very satisfying thump.../ Ivanova thought righteously as the figure rolled onto his back. "Marcus!! What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded. "Guilty roads to an endless love," he said between moans, that goofy smile already spreading over his face. /Preserve me from a lovesick Ranger! / she thought. /Geez, does he need to get laid! / She helped him up, demonstrating more pity than she actually felt. When he had his breath back, he flashed his best puppy dog grin and asked, "So where are we off to today?" "We?" Susan sputtered. "*We* are not going anywhere. *I* am going down to the docking bay to take care of some business and you.... you are going wherever it is you go when you're not following me or getting the stuffing beat out of you by Neroon." "I wouldn't advise the docking bay," he called as he scurried to catch up with the departing Russian. "Right, Marcus. Fine." "Seriously, Commander. There's a situation..." "Yes, Marcus. I've been on this station a good deal longer than you have. I can handle a situation." The docking bay doors opened and a blast of PPG fire grazed her shoulder. Instantly, Ivanova hit the deck. Marcus, for some reason known only to Rangers, snapped open his denn'bok. Susan grabbed his cape and yanked his to the floor. "Are you nuts? Get down!" She tapped her link. "Ivanova to Security." "Zack here, Commander." The voice came from her hand. /More brains than his head, / she thought. "Mr. Allen, we have a fire fight in the docking bay. Get a team down here immediately." "We are here, Commander. We're pinned down on the other side. There's no control!!" Zack warned her. /Like that's new? / It took a few moments to realize there were rogue teeps at the heart of this. She quickly sized up the situation in the docking bay. Lyta Alexander was there, easy to pick out since she was the only one who didn't look like she bought her clothes in a 1960s flea market. If Susan could get to her, talk some sense into her... "Are you with me now?" Byron mindcast to Lyta. /You're damn talkative for a dead guy,/ Susan thought back. /Why don't you go wash your hair or something? / "I could be yours, Susan," Byron replied in her mind. "After all, it was really supposed to be you and I." /In your dreams, pretty boy! / "Hey!" Lyta objected. "I heard that!!" Her eyes started to glow. "I don't want her anywhere near my man," she informed Zack Allen angrily. Allen looked from Lyta to Ivanova and back. And back again. And again. "Your every wish will be done," Zack promised. Just then, Stephen Franklin appeared from behind a stack of crates. "Stephen! You?" Ivanova cried. "You're in league with these rogues." "You know I've been working with the underground railroad for years, Susan. Don't look so surprised." He moved to stand beside the slender redhead. "Now we have a few demands...." Zack looked pained. "You know we can't do that, Doc." "That's right, Stephen." It was Michael Garibaldi's voice, materializing from over Ivanova's right shoulder and scaring the wits out of her. /How does he always manage to show up wherever there's trouble? / she wondered. /And how come nobody's shooting at *him*? / "You know very well, Stephen, that Babylon 5 has a long standing policy of not negotiating with terrorists," Garibaldi continued. "So there's really nothing to talk about. Besides," Michael said as he pulled out one of those disgusting cigars he had affected recently, "Lyta and I have some business to do before she goes anywhere." "They tell me there's nowhere to run," Lyta said to Franklin. The doctor shook his head. "Don't give up, Lyta. Don't ever give up. Remember Byron." Groans ascended from all areas of the docking bay. "Besides," Franklin continued, with the wickedest smile Ivanova had ever seen on him, "I have a little bargaining chip." Susan looked across at Marcus, who, having brushed off his duster, was idly playing with his denn'bok. "Stop that!" she ordered. "You'll go blind. Or something." Marcus was smiling his doofy smile at her again. If he started spouting amorous witticisms in Minbari, she'd ...well, she'd have to kill him. "Just..." she stuttered, "...just go!" "I have no place to go," the Ranger observed. "However, I could do a few stanzas of Gilbert and Sullivan for you, if you like." Garibaldi's strong arms wrapped around her and held her back from the Ranger's throat. "Just let me hurt him, Michael. Just a little..." she pleaded. Her tantrum was interrupted by the arrival of Londo Mollari. "Surrender my heart - body and soul!" The Centauri's voice was strident. "For Pete's sake, Londo! Stay out of this!" "I will do no such thing!" Londo blustered. "This villain you call a physician has stolen one of my hearts, and I demand that it be returned immediately." "WHAT?!?!?" the command staff chorused. /What?!?/ the assembled telepaths mindcast. Garibaldi laughed and turned to look at Franklin. "*This* is your bargaining chip? You're holding Londo's heart hostage?" "I don't believe it," Lyta breathed. "Feel my chest!" Londo insisted. "You feel mine!" Susan retorted. /I think I'm gonna be sick. / "What the hell! Let's all play. Marcus! You want to feel my chest?" "How can it be you're asking me to feel the things you never show?" Marcus asked incredulously. "Oh never mind!" Susan stamped her foot hard on the docking bay floor. "Enough of this! This stops right here, right now. Lyta, FORGET Byron. Go out with Zack. Have a pizza. Do what comes naturally. You'll both be happier. Then you can go tell G'Kar stories about your pleasure threshold. Michael, put that damn cigar out! And find me something for this hangover. NOW! Marcus...I don't know, Marcus...what about a nice honeymoon on Mars with Stephen?" "Only if he promises not to pick up any blonde terrorist leaders," the Ranger whined. "Only if he promises to leave the pike home, " Stephen protested. " And no Gilbert and Sullivan!" "And what about my HEART?!?!" Londo roared. Stephen held out a small cooler. "That's not a problem, Londo. It's right here. I just have to make a few adjustments...." "Adjustments?" Ivanova asked fearfully. Franklin opened the case, pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and extracted some menacing looking instruments from his pocket. "Are those sterile?" Lyta asked. "Never had any children that I know of," Stephen smirked. The assembled company glared at him. "A little medical humor....." He turned his attention again to Londo's heart. "Ooops!" he muttered. "I missed." "You are missing in my heart?" Londo's face was ashen. "There!" Franklin said, closing the case and handing it back to Londo. "You'll be good as new in a few days. A few nightmares about Delenn as a gypsy fortune teller, but other than that.... I already gave Vir the installation instructions. I'm sure he won't have any trouble." "You gave Vir..." There was a satisfying thump as Londo hit the floor. Capt. John Sheridan was trying very hard not to laugh. His second in command had just reported for her shift on C&C, and had shared with him the story of her morning. He didn't want to embarrass her, especially not here, in front of her staff. But he couldn't help it. "You really expect me to believe that story?" Sheridan chuckled. His boyish face was flushed with the effort to stifle the guffaws. "I swear!" Ivanova insisted. "Not a word of a lie!" Sheridan worked hard to regain his composure. "So how is your...headache?" he asked delicately. "I feel," she answered, "like Michael's purple wombats have not only been rehearsing their showtunes, but have staged a revival of that 20th century show...what's it? RiverDance?" Sheridan laughed aloud. "Well, Commander, let this be a lesson to you. If you hadn't tried to drink Liz Lochley under the table, you wouldn't be in this condition. Next time, ask me before you trade shots with one of my wives." "Yes, sir," Ivanova said humorlessly. "But none of it would have happened, or happened to me anyway, if that shipment had come in on time." "Commander, we have a Bakiri freighter requesting to dock," Lt. Corwin interrupted. Ivanova waved him to silence. "What were you doing down in the docking bay anyway?" Sheridan inquired. The doors to C&C slid open and two techs, one short and pudgy, the other a towering black man, approached the two officers. "Morning, Captain, Commander," the shorter man said. "Maintenance got a call that you were having trouble with some systems up here?" "Fine, fine," Ivanova replied. "See the lieutenant." "Well?" Sheridan asked. "Well what?" "What were you doing in the docking bay?" "Commander, the Bakiri are still waiting and now we have a Narn vessel coming through the jumpgate." "Yes, Lieutenant. I'll be right there," Susan replied through gritted teeth. "The docking bay, Commander?" "I had to collect a shipment..." Ivanova offered sheepishly. She slapped at her hand as her link beeped. "What!" "Security here, Commander. We have those reports you wanted." "Thank you, Mr. Allen. I'll be right there." "Commander, the Bakiri and..." "All right!!" Sheridan's grin grew wider. "Well, looks like you're a very popular person, Commander. I'll leave you to your work." He started to walk away as the noise level on the command deck escalated. "And Commander?" Sheridan stopped and looked over his shoulder at his second. "Yes, Captain?" Exasperation was obvious in Ivanova's face. "You really might want to consider whether your monthly shipment of chocolate is worth what you go through for it." Ivanova's mouth opened but no sound came forth. From behind her, a dozen demands clamored for her attention. She pressed her hands to her throbbing temples as Sheridan called back to her. "I'll be in my office if you need me!" "Tell me why I can't be there where you are!" Ivanova whined, as the office door slid closed behind Sheridan.