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Chapter Text

_Knight Industries Two Thousand_

Shock: Registered.

Power bank level: 7%

Initiating reboot of emergency systems.

Emergency beacon: offline 

Contacting FLAG headquarters. . .

No connection. 

Commlink connection: unable to locate.

Emergency systems: compromised.

Initiating reboot of advanced learning matrix. . .

Awareness returned to the Knight Industries Two Thousand. At first, all was quiet; just the darkness and him. But, one by one, as more of his systems came back online, he began receiving damage and error notifications. The notifications piled on, faster and faster as he awakened more of his systems until it was a torrential downpour upon his processor. He tried to cry out, but his vocalizer only sent another ping of distress. 

The amount of errors overwhelmed any other possible thought process. He could feel the tickle of electricity dancing uninsulated across his circuits. Parts of his internal wiring must have corroded. Attempting to process heavily would eat away at his circuit boards. He would be responsible for his own demise.

The idea stilled him.

After a period that could have been minutes or hours or days, he stirred again. He did not want to deactivate, did not want to dwindle into the darkness again. That much was certain. His power banks were losing their charge fast. He had to do something!

He activated his diagnostic programs and braced as the wave of agony hit him. Everything was non-functioning. His body was gone , and every part of his internal systems was throwing error message after error message. His visual sensors, auditory sensors, vocalizer- anything that could immediately tell him where he was were completely “shot”, as they say.

However, another type of notification tugged at his processor. His wireless electronic connection unit was badly damaged, but still functioning. He leapt upon the unit. He extended a distress ping out into the inky black unknown. For the longest time there was no reply, no bounceback, but after a long period of waiting, the scan revealed something- a rudimentary circuit that could possibly indicate a digital connection.

He poured all of his energy into the next ping. He forced his way into the connection, calling out into the foreign electronic system for someone, anyone-

Chief Michael Garibaldi sat at the desk in security central and tapped a pen against his thigh. The pen was an Earth vintage, an old, ballpoint, black-inked pen that he liked to sign security violations with. It was much more personal than having the computer print out his signature. It was real great with particularly proud punks. 

Like the punk he busted last week, Garibaldi remembered. The look on that sucker’s face when he had pulled out the pen and signed the violation personally was priceless.

Garibaldi sighed and tucked the pen back in his pocket. He scanned over the security systems again. No updates. Nothing new. 

Babylon 5 was like that, he thought. For a day or two, everything was mind-numbingly quiet. Then all of the sudden there’d be some sort of interstellar crisis blowing up in everyone’s faces. It was sure to drive any ordinary security officer crazy.

Luckily, Garibaldi liked to think that he was particularly well-suited for the job.

He checked the security systems one more time. Nothing. He was about to space off again, before a light on the security comm dashboard lit up. It was a dim light- some back alley of Brown Sector.

Garibaldi pressed the button and listened in.

“Help! Help! Please, I’m severely damaged and I do not know where I am! This is-”

Garibaldi let go of the button in shock. The voice that had come shouting through the comm line and the poor guy sounded terrified. He quickly got on the button again.

“- I need assistance! I repeat, I need assistance immediately!”

“Woah, woah, hey there.” Garibaldi replied. “Calm down. I hear you, loud and clear-”

“Thank heavens. Please, can you locate me? I do not know where I am and my visual-”

“Calm down, pal. Calm down. Deep breaths, okay? I hear you. This is Security Chief Michael Garibaldi. I’ll send down a security team right away. Are you injured?”

“I’m severely damaged. Every part of me is compromised. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.” The voice at the other end of the line grew very frightened.

“Hang in there. I got a team on patrol passing right your sector. I’ll get them to you right away.”

Garibaldi hit his wrist commlink and called directly to patrol six, which he had sent out not that long ago to investigate some disturbance or another. That wasn’t important now- someone was dying.

His next call was to the Medlab. “Hey, Dr. Franklin. We’ve got an emergency deep in Down Below. It sounds bad. My boys are trying to find the patient. You got a spot open?”

“Of course I do.” Dr. Franklin’s calm voice came over the comm. “I’ll get ready. Do you know the race of your patient?”

“He’s in human sector. And-”

The voice from the other side of the security comm interrupted.

“Help! Mr. Garibaldi, don’t leave me alone!”

 It was almost as if some hacker had brute-forced their way into overriding the button, but that wasn’t important right now. Garibaldi hit the button again to respond.

“It’s okay, pal. I’m right here. I haven’t left you. You’re going to be okay.” He spoke evenly. “My boys are coming for you right now. You’re gonna be alright.”

Dr. Franklin said something from the other side of his wrist commlink and ended the call. That was that, then. Garibaldi refocused. If he didn’t keep the person on the other end of the line distracted, they might go into shock.

“Hey, you still with me, pal?” Garibaldi asked.

“Yes, Mr. Garibaldi. But I fear not for long.”

“Nonsense. You’re going to be found, any minute now. You’re gonna get fixed up. I promise.”

“Well, I hope you have someone who knows what they’re doing. There’s a lot to fix.”

“Let’s not focus on that now. Let’s focus on. . . what you had for lunch today.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Okay, not that. Let’s try. . . the last game you played. Yeah. What was the last game you played? Videogame? Boardgame? Tell me about it.”

“Hang on, let me search my-” the voice on the other end gave a strange sort of whimper. “You’ll have to pardon me. I’m not remembering at the moment.”

“That’s okay. No pressure. You got something you wanna talk about?”

“Yes!” The voice raised in volume even more. “I need to find someone. His name is Micheal Knight. He shouldn’t be too far away- in fact, he’s probably looking for me right now. Can you find him? Please?”

“Let me check the station log.”

Garibaldi pulled away from the call and swiveled around towards the computer.

“Computer: search for passenger ‘Micheal Knight’.” He commanded.

“Processing.” The automated voice chimed. After a brief moment, it continued. “No results found for ‘Micheal Knight’.”

Garibaldi swung back around and pressed the button again, before pausing. What was he going to say?

“Did you find him?” The voice said.

“I’m working on it.” Garibaldi decided. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s here. Tell me what he looks like.”

“6’4, curly brown hair, usually wears a leather jacket. He has a charming smile and he’s quite sought after by the ladies.” The voice replied. A new tone entered the voice, something admiring, almost reverent.

“Right. I’m sure he is. How about you? You don’t sound that bad-looking yourself.”

“Well, I used to be the definition of dark and handsome, but now my body-”

“Don’t worry about your body. You’re going to be fine. How was your luck with the ladies?”

“Personally I was never that interested. I never understood why a man could get so excited over a woman. Oh well. I don’t think I’m missing anything.”

Garibaldi laughed. The guy on the other end had a sense of humor, that was for sure.

There was a ping on his wrist commlink. He answered. 

“Sir, we’re at the security panel at Brown Sector. We don’t see anyone here.”

Garibaldi put down his wrist comm for a moment and hit the button. “Hey, pal, my boys are at the panel you’re calling from. Where are you?”

“Did I not tell you that I can’t see? I’m essentially blinded.” The voice responded quite matter-of-factly.

“Then shout so they can hear you.”

“I can’t do that, either. Nor can I hear them, either. Like I said earlier, every part of me is compromised.”

“Then how are you calling me right now?”

“That’s it! If I’m calling whatever panel they’re at, I can’t be too far away. Tell them to start walking around.”

Garibaldi let go of the button and reached to his wrist again. “Keep your eyes peeled- he says he’s somewhere nearby.”

“Wait, who are you talking to, Mr. Garibaldi? Do you have some sort of other communicator? Do your men have a radio or other communication link? I might be able to pick up their signal!” The voice spoke from the console.

The leader of the security team tried to reply to Garibaldi’s original comment, but another call intercepted the line.

“Here! I’m here! Your signal is only a few meters away. Come closer!” The voice called out, clearly talking to the comm of the security team, although apparently the signal spilled over into the original security channel as well.

Garibaldi could hear fumbling words from his own men as they broke into a jog.

“No, wait! Turn around, you missed me.”

There were minor curse words, uttered in confusion from the team.

“Yes, right here! You should be able to see me right now. . .”

Garibaldi spoke into the line. “Hey, pal, I don’t think you ever told us what you looked like.”

“You should see a black box. I can’t gauge what shape I’m in- I could have wires coming out, and some of my lights may be flickering red. But I should be recognizable compared to whatever else is around.”

A black box? What kind of person was this?

“What’s going on?” Garibaldi tried to ask. “Who are you? What stunt are you trying to pull?”

“My apologies, Mr. Garibaldi and the rest of you good fellows, but introductions will have to wait. Now that you’ve found me, I need to power down, lest I risk further damage to my systems. Please, get me to a clean room with a power source.”

  -And just like that, the security comm from the Brown sector panel went dead. Garibaldi scrambled to call the security team, and found that their channel was open again.

“Report: what’s going on?”

“Sir, we’ve found what looks to be a computer. It looks ancient.” The security leader replied. “What should we do?”

Garibaldi took a deep breath. “We need more answers. Bring it to Blue Sector and get one of our technician rooms to work on it. Does the tech look like it’s from Earth?”

“Yes, but. . . it’s not like any computer I’ve ever seen.”

“Then get it in a signal-blocker. I don’t want to take any chances.”

Garibaldi almost put his wrist comm down, before remembering another important call. He brought up his wrist comm once more. “Hey doc, nevermind about that medlab call.”

“What? What do you mean?” Dr. Franklin replied. “Did your patient. . . did he die? If so, I still want to bring them in for an autopsy. You know that.”

“No, he didn’t die. At least, I don’t think. Impossible for me to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“He wasn’t human. He wasn’t alien, either. Our ‘patient’ wasn’t biological at all.”

“A Vicker? What would one be doing that far down Down Below?”

“No, not even a Vicker. Something else entirely. I’ll get back to you if I can figure out what.” Garibaldi said.

He ended the call, letting go of his comm and letting his wrist sink into his lap. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. His heart was still pounding, but he started to relax. Only slightly, that is. Someone’s life was no longer on the line, and no mystery killer roaming the station, but. . .

What kind of computer sounded like that ? Something so full of emotion and purpose. The voice had sounded terrified, even hurt! But it was just a computer- it couldn’t have really been hurt. That’d be ridiculous. Probably just some old holosim or something.

Right?

Kitt returned to awareness once more. The first thing he did was activate his visual sensors- which were working again. Blinding light assaulted his uncalibrated sensors, before he adjusted them. 

He- not his body, but his processing unit -was sitting in a sterile gray room. There was a heavy plug door directly ahead of him, but other than that, the room was featureless. The walls and floor were made of metal, and Kitt suspected that whatever he was sitting on was made of metal, too.

He returned his focus inward, trying the rest of his systems with a gingerly touch. He discovered that the majority of his technical systems had been repaired. His audio sensors were picking up the faint hum from the lightbulbs above. His memory banks no longer spat corruption warnings, which was good. 

To belatedly answer Mr. Garibaldi’s question, the last ‘game’ Kitt remembered playing was Tetris. It was out in a Walmart parking lot. Micheal had been running some errand or another. Kitt had gotten an on-par score. He had bragged about it when Micheal had returned-

Micheal. Where was Micheal?

Kitt tried to contact Micheal’s commlink, but the signal bounced right back to him. So he tried again, and again, and again, and again. All ended up bouncing back. The walls of the room must have been very thick. It took several feet of concrete or at least six inches of metal to stop his transmissions to Micheal’s commlink. 

And why was he in this room to begin with?

He searched around with all scanners in an attempt to find some sort of digital connection, but there were none to be found. However, a close visual check of the corners of the ceiling revealed imbedded cameras in each one. It must have been a fully-wired system, for he could not reach out to any of them. 

Except for verbally, he supposed. Kitt checked his vocalizer to find it in working order. Diving deeper, he even found that his voice modulator had been repaired. Relieved, he flashed the three parallel lights in their typical fashion.

Something changed, both in the room and in his systems, in a way that he couldn’t describe. Kitt wished that he had visual sensors all around his microprocessor. Something was happening behind him, something mechanical-sounding, yet delicate.

He received a sudden notification. His trajectory calculation unit was back online.

“Hello? Is someone there?” He called out.

If there was a mechanic in this room, they were being awful quiet about it. Kitt supposed he shouldn’t be too insulted- they were repairing him, after all.

Something flitted in the corner of his vision. Then, a single mechanical arm extended. Its tip glowed white hot, and it began soldering his external panel.

He was being repaired by another machine! How insulting! Didn’t these people, whoever they were, realize how advanced and delicate his systems were?! They required the most careful touch of a skilled mechanic, like Bonnie or April.

Though, this machine looked quite advanced. And perhaps it wasn’t another computer controlling the arm, but a skilled repairman working remotely.

“Is anyone there? Can anybody hear me?” Kitt called out again.

There was no reply. In a few minutes (or so he guessed, as his chronometer still hadn’t been fixed yet,) he tried again. Still no response.

“Hello?”

Garibaldi made his way across the station. His trip was unimpeded- after all, who would dare interrupt the security chief traveling at a full speedwalk? No one, that’s who -and he quickly arrived in Blue sector.

He saw a green uniform out in the hall, standing by a door. It was the leader of the security team that had gone down to Brown Sector. Garibaldi knew the woman- she had joined on six months ago.

“Hey, Kiara. This the place?” He asked her.

She nodded. “Yep. The computer’s inside. From what I know, the techs are stumped.”

“I guess I’ll have to see.” He shrugged.

He hit the button to the side and the door opened. 

This room had a further room within- a vault-looking thing with thick walls, designed to be signal-proof. In the layer outside, however, technicians buzzed around lab stations. One tech, probably the head, judging by her uniform, had her head glued to a screen. In her hands was a joystick and several other controls he didn’t recognize.

A lesser-ranked technician came up to greet him. “Chief Garibaldi.”

“How’s our computer friend doing?” He asked.

“We’ve got our best working on it. Repairs are almost complete. Once it is repaired, we can probe it for more information.” 

“Is he online again?”

“Yes, why?”

“Then we can start getting information right now. Our new friend is rather chatty, if you didn’t know. I almost thought he was human.”

The technician grimaced slightly. “Call it an ‘it’, sir. Assigning another pronoun will have other implications.”

“What do you mean?”

“This technology is dated very far back in Earth’s history. Possibly, further back than the A.I. Sentience Act. It could be dangerous.”

The Sentience Act. Right. Garibaldi recalled his history lessons with his stuffy teacher. After a rogue computer had tried to get ahold of the nuclear launch codes, the old United Nations came together and put an international ban on sentient technology. Vickers were the only exceptions, and they only got away with it because they were technically cyborgs.

“Right.” He eventually said.

“Precisely. We have half of our team working on determining if its systems are advanced enough to harbor sentience.” The technician gestured to a group of other techies crowded around a screen.

“There’s an easier way to do that. Can I go in to talk to him- it?” Garibaldi asked.

“You might as well; it’s been verbalizing for a while now. Just don’t touch anything”

The technician led him over to the door further in. She pushed a button, and it opened, revealing a second door within. Garibaldi entered. The door shut behind him. The one in front of him opened.

The room was completely barren of everything save for a singular metal table in the middle. On that table was a black box. It looked like the old VCR Garibaldi had back in his quarters, except it lacked any noticeable disk drive. Instead, on its face, were three vertical red lights. They pulsed gently, revealing some sort of activity going on within.

“Heh, nice lights.” He said under his breath.

“Mr. Garibaldi? Is that you?” 

It was the same voice that had come from the other side of the security comm, only now it was noticeably coming from the box. The vertical red lights flashed up and down in time with the words.

“Hey there. You okay?” Garibaldi asked.

“Yes, I am, thanks to you.” The computer’s voice was so rich and warm. It was an almost hilarious contrast with the rest of it.

“I believe you owe me an explanation.” He continued. “What were you doing down in Brown Sector?”

The computer paused. “I was hoping you could tell me, Mr. Garibaldi. It seems I can’t recall any events leading up to there.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. It’s as frustrating for me as it is for you.” The computer made a noise sounding like a sigh. “I really must thank you, Mr. Garibaldi. If you hadn’t responded to my distress call, I would have burnt my systems into permanent disrepair. You saved me.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled.

“Now, I do believe I owe you an introduction.” The computer continued. “I am the Knight Industries Two Thousand- or rather, the voice of its microprocessor, although that seems to be the only part of me that’s here right now. Regardless, it’s K.I.T.T. for short, or ‘Kitt’, if you prefer.”

Kitt. What a charming name, almost comically cute, for a computer. 

“Mr. Garibaldi, do you know where we are?” Kitt asked, filling the silence.

“Right now? We’re in Blue Sector. Our technicians were the ones who repaired you.”

“And for that I am grateful. But, where is ‘Blue Sector’? I don’t understand.”

“Uh. . .” Garibaldi struggled to understand. “It’s just the Blue Sector of the station. What are you getting at?”

“Station?”

Garibaldi raised his eyebrows. He decided to try a different angle. “If you had to guess, where would you think you are?”

Kitt paused. “Somewhere in the United States, right?”

“ United States ?”

“Yes. Am I wrong?”

Garibaldi put a hand to his forehead. “Boy, do I have some bad news for you, pal.”

“What? What is it?”

Before he could answer, a voice came in over the intercom. “Chief Garibaldi, please leave the chamber now.”

The door opened behind. Garibaldi gave one last look to the little black rectangle.

“Wait, Mr. Garibaldi, please don’t leave. I need to know.” Kitt pleaded. 

“Sorry.” He turned and walked out of the room.

The door shut behind him before he could change his mind. On the other side of the double-door lock stood the lead technician with her arms crossed.

“Chief, I appreciate you wanting to help, but do you realize what you almost did?”

“What did I do?” He asked.

“You could have destabilized the computer’s entire personality matrix. Come here, I’ll explain.” She gestured for him to follow.

They got to her computer and she started talking. Something something personality matrix, something something systems shock, something something learning algorithms and central processing.

Garibaldi had tried to follow the lecture. Seriously! But as soon as the techie had started going deep into programming languages he had kinda lost track.

“So, you’re saying that Kitt’s whole processor is. . . too old?” Garibaldi asked in a gap in her sentences.

“Yes,” the technician explained. “Its entire learning system is based around data that’s a few centuries old at this point.”

“How old?”

“Nearly three centuries, according to our estimates. A stamp on the plating containing its CPU bears the year ‘1982’.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Yes. Informing those algorithms that it is no longer that early century might cause the system to erase all of its files.”

“That’s bad.”

“Of course it’s bad.” The technician sighed.

“Okay, okay, I’ll get out of your hair already. But don’t expect me not to come back. This is still a security concern.” Garibaldi replied.

“Is it?” 

“Yes. I still need to figure out how Kitt got onboard the station and who might have brought him here. I can’t do that without knowing what he knows.” He gestured to the chamber doors.

“Very well. But Chief, if I may.” The technician pushed his arm down. “Don’t call it by a nickname. Don’t call it a ‘he’. You know what will happen to it once your investigation is done. Don’t get too attached to it.”

Garibaldi gave a nod, before turning and leaving the room entirely.

It had been a long time since Mr. Garibaldi had left.

Kitt couldn’t count the hours. His chronometer remained stubbornly broken, despite the fact that his repairs had continued. It was frustrating, not having a proper sense of time. 

Mr. Garibaldi’s parting words had left a lot of anxiety. Alright, he was a computer, so he couldn’t get anxious, but having an unanswerable question rolling around in one’s processor ought to qualify.

“Boy, do I have some news for you, pal.”

The use of ‘pal’ made Kitt think of Micheal. Micheal’s smile, Micheal’s wink, Micheal’s voice. It was comforting in a way that he could not describe. Yet Mr. Garibaldi had twisted that comfort into something deeply foreboding.

It was almost as if the man were trying to imply that the United States were no more.

What an absurd thought! Sure, there were nuclear tension between the U.S. and the Soviet Union, but towards the end of his memories, he recalled, the Soviet Union had fallen apart. The U.S. stabilized and was a global superpower. It was the most powerful country in the world, as far as Kitt knew.

That begged the question. How long had he been offline?

Chapter Text

“Hey, Garibaldi, what’s up?”

“Nothing much, Commander. Just got back from techlab.” Garibaldi shrugged and gave a smile. He slid into one of the many chairs that populated the Commander’s office.

Commander Jeffrey Sinclair, or just ‘Sinclair’ between the two of them while on duty, leaned back into his own chair. He exuded his usual air of calm and friendly composure, his eyes sparkling with energy and his ashy hair was well kempt. Garibaldi wouldn’t want any other man in charge of Babylon 5.

“What did they say about that computer you found?” Sinclair asked.

“Not much. They still don’t know a whole lot.” Garibaldi didn’t know why, but something told him to keep quiet about how Kitt was. “How are things going on your end?”

“With the ‘smugglers’? Nothing yet.” Sinclair said. “Unfortunately, we have little power to enforce an honest cargo manifest. As far as the transports care, they can lie to us all they want and bring whatever they want into the docking bays.”

“But never past customs, right? My boys make sure of that.” 

“Yes, of course, but even if no illegal material gets within the station, it's still in the docking bays, which means it’s still our issue.” Sinclair pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And without a warrant, security can’t search a ship parked in the docking bay.”

“Exactly.” 

“If you’re not making any progress, Jeff, have you tried coming at it from another angle?” Garibaldi proposed. “What if- and I’m just throwing this out there -what if we got the ambassadors involved? Have them make a ‘formal declaration’ asking their people to be honest on their cargo manifests? And then if, or probably when, that fails, then you’ve got ground to get me and my boys involved.”

Sinclair shook his head. “The last thing I want to do is make Earth Alliance’s authority on this station look powerless by delegating this issue out to the ambassadors.”

“I get it, but that might be a sacrifice we need to make in the short term for the safety of everyone on board. At the rate we’re going, it’s only a matter of time before someone brings something truly dangerous into a docking bay or I get in trouble trying to sniff it out.” Garibaldi replied.

“I know that you’re right, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

“I’m just being your security chief, commander.” He shrugged.

This caused both of them to share a half-hearted laugh.

“Good chat. I have to head back to work now.” Garibaldi got up from his seat.

“Goodbye then. Keep me updated on the computer situation- somehow I suspect it’s the key to our little smuggler problem.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll keep you posted.” Garibaldi said as he walked out of the office.

The metal room that held him was starting to get a little unbearable. Kitt usually prided himself on his patience, but he couldn’t shake the assessment that something was going horribly wrong. For starters, almost all of his systems were repaired (except for his chronometer, a fact that annoyed him to no end,) yet he still hadn’t seen any other human except for Mr. Garibaldi.

So many unanswered questions. Where was Micheal? What did Mr. Garibaldi mean about the United States? What about the Foundation? What was going on?

Kitt tried reaching out to Micheal’s commlink again, for no good discernible reason. He had tried nearly a dozen times before, each time the signal being blocked by the room’s walls. The action was more of a comfort than anything legitimate.

He felt a ping of a connection in response. His systems raced towards it. However, he quickly realized that it wasn’t Micheal’s commlink. It instead came from behind, where the mechanical arm that had been doing his repairs was. Tentatively, he withdrew, gathering his processes again before probing the connection.

Suddenly, something overtook him, shoving its way past his firewalls and burrowing deep inside of his microprocessor.

He cried out, the syllables forming nothing but a shrill digital wail. He scrambled to throw up some makeshift firewalls to expel the invader but anything he tried was quickly disintegrated by the external force. It sorted through his processor, accessing and retrieving and viewing.

The pressure of the clearly superior probe dug into his every protocol. He felt as if he was being torn apart. Now it had reached his memory banks, and all of his precious memories flashed one by one. Micheal’s smile, Micheal in the driver’s seat, Micheal, Bonnie, and Devon celebrating after a case, Micheal, Micheal, Micheal!

“Micheal! Micheal, help!” Kitt shouted.

But no one came. 

With no other options left, Kitt initiated an emergency shutdown. His drives crashed and everything went dark.

It was so, so tempting to hit the comm for techlab and ask how Kitt was doing. Everything else today had been mind-numbingly boring. Garibaldi looked wistfully at the button. He knew that calling too much would be a waste of time, and it would probably upset the lead technician even more than he had already.

Something about the little computer had been so damn endearing. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he wanted to know more. Just a little talk with him.

Or talk to ‘it’. Proper pronouns and all that.

He had almost decided that his button-pushing finger was getting itchy before his personal comm rang. Karma, he supposed. He held up his comm. “Garibaldi here.”

“Chief, are you available to come to techlab one?” It was the lead technician.

“Huh? Oh, sure!” 

The call ended. Garibaldi smiled in surprise. Perhaps not all karma was bad karma.

A brief walk later and he was over in the techlab. There were less technicians chattering about now. It must have been towards the end of their shift by now, just as it was nearly the end of his.

The lead technician came over. Her hair was a mess. Garibaldi wondered what on earth could happen in a tech lab to make someone’s hair a mess, but he decided not to comment on it.

“Chief, thank you for coming.” She nodded.

“Of course. What’s going on? Did you find something?”

“No, but we need your help. We attempted to access the computer, but it seems we tripped a security shutdown protocol. However, something peculiar happened before it shut down.”

“Like what?” Garibaldi raised an eyebrow.

“It called out your first name. It got me thinking. Perhaps it might reactivate if you speak with it.”

Her frazzled look indicated that she must have tried every other option before reaching out to him. Regardless, he nodded. “Let me in there. I’ll see what I can do.”

He made his way through the double-door hatch. The room seemed dimmer now. Almost lacking. On the center table was Kitt, but the computer’s twinkling red lights were nowhere to be found.

“Kitt?” Garibaldi asked softly. “Hey, Kitt. It’s me, Mr. Garibaldi.”

No response. He walked towards the table. The techs earlier had told him not to touch anything, but they said nothing about almost touching.

He knelt down, bringing himself to eye-level with the black box. “Hey, pal. It’s Michael here.”

Kitt’s set of red lights blinked once.

“That’s right. Me. Michael. I saved you, remember? You wanna wake up now?”

“M. . . Micheal?” Kitt’s voice was slurred.

“Yeah, it’s me, pal.”

“Micheal. Micheal! Are you alright?” Kitt practically exploded back to life. “I’m so glad you’re here! I thought I had lost you. It feels like it’s been so long, Micheal. My body is gone and I was severely damaged, and some strange-yet-sympathetic man came in and told me the United States was gone and- and. . .”

Kitt paused. Garibaldi stood up.

“. . . my apologies, Mr. Garibaldi. You’re not who I thought you were.” The computer said quietly.

“Sorry to be a disappointment.” Garibaldi said.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Well, at least you’re awake now again. Now the technicians can figure out where you came from.”

“Mr. Garibaldi, have you found the man named Micheal Knight yet?” Kitt asked.

“No. I haven’t been able to find him. I’m sorry.” Garibaldi replied.

“Very well.”

That was the end of that. Kitt spoke no more, and Garibaldi had no idea what to say. He had comforted many distressed people about missing relatives before- in fact, it was a regular part of his job -but all of his experience only gave him a blank as of what to say regarding this situation. 

Luckily, he didn’t have to mull on it any longer. The intercom into the room switched on. “Chief, you may exit now. Your job here is done.”

Garibaldi shrugged and turned around.

“Wait! Mr. Garibaldi, wait! Don’t leave me here. Please.”

He turned back around. “What is it?”

“Don’t leave. Last time you left, a foreign entity invaded my systems. I do not want that to happen again.” Kitt pleaded.

Garibaldi didn’t know how to respond. He knew, deep down, that the ‘foreign entity’ had to be the technician team. . . but with how scared Kitt sounded of it, he couldn’t just say ‘tough luck’.

His mind went into security mode. The first question out of his mouth was “When did this attack occur?”

“I couldn’t tell you the time. My chonometer is non-functional.” Kitt replied. “However, it was sometimes after you left the first time and before you returned right now.”

“Okay, that’s a start. Can you describe your attacker?”

“It had to be quite the powerful computer and a very experienced hacker. My systems are state-of-the-art.”

Garibaldi didn’t comment anything about that. “Can you name any identifying features? I’m not familiar with cyber warfare, but anything like a name or a specific style of attack might help.”

“It was exceptionally strong. It steamrolled, as they say, through all of my firewalls and forced its way into every part of me. Saying that I feel ‘violated’ would be an understatement.” Kitt replied with a shiver in his voice.

“That’s terrible. I’m sorry this happened.” 

“At least I have you, Mr. Garibaldi. You seem to be my only friend right now.” The computer said warmly. Garibaldi smiled in return.

The door to the vault opened. A technician came scurrying in and grabbed Garibaldi by the shoulder. It was time to go.

“Kitt, I have to go now. But I’m going to figure out what happened to you, I promise.” He said as he walked backwards to the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Garibaldi. That’s all I can ask.”

He got one last glimpse at the black computer before the door shut.

A short time after Mr. Garibaldi left, Kitt felt the connection in the back of his processor open again. He flung his newly-constructed firewalls to the location and braced for the incoming intrusion.

There were a tense few moments of nothing. Then the onslaught began. Kitt felt the foreign probe tear through his firewalls as if they were tissue paper. The invader went straight for his memory banks. It did not interfere with anything else, however. Kitt accessed his vocalizer.

“You! Stop this intrusion right now or I will shut down again!” He called out into the empty room. He hoped that the hacker on the other side was able to hear him, and that they were capable of reason.

To his surprise (and delight), the intrusion stopped. The invader retreated away from his memory banks and back to the external connection.

“Thank you. I believe we can talk this out like rational adults, as the saying goes, rather than barging into each other’s CPUs.” Kitt continued.

A beat of silence passed. Kitt felt the invader tickle the connection with a few smaller probes, before finally leaving.

Kitt did not relax. The first thing he did was to examine and reprogram his firewalls, which were now in shambles. He wished Bonnie were here- sure, he could handle his own software as a situation called for it, but she was the true master, having helped program him in the first place. He had no doubt in his processor that she would be able to write sophisticated enough code to keep this attacker at bay.

He hurried to knit together another defense, troubleshooting it with the little data he had gathered from this most recent violation. The attacker clearly had more processing power than he did. Not a surprise- his specialty had never been raw power, instead opting for versatility. It meant that he was ill-equipped to deal with this much more powerful force.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t need to. Hopefully he had just convinced whoever was on the other side that they didn’t need to probe him in order to get what they wanted. Whatever they wanted, that is.

There was another tickle from the connection. Kitt braced himself again, but no assault ever came. Instead, the invader seemed to be beckoning him forward. 

Cautiously, he extended a bit of his awareness into the connection port. On the other side, he felt a basic chatroom. Good. The mysterious hacker was open to talk.

“Hello there. I’m glad you decided to be reasonable.” He typed. He was a little sad he couldn’t convey his voice across the channel, but he wasn’t about to protest.

“Access_Memory_Year_2258.” The other side of the line tapped out.

Memory year? It seems they had gotten that part of his processor organization correct. Kitt did sort his memories chronologically, in order to keep it all straight when someone tried to reminisce with him about the good old days, as Micheal often did. But the number they had imputed after made no sense.

“I beg your pardon. I don’t have a file matching that number.” He replied.

“Access_Memory_Year_2257.” The no-longer-invader requested again.

It was a repeated command! What, did they think Kitt was stupid? “You’re being quite absurd.”

“Access_Memory_Year_2256.”

“No. I don’t have a year for that. How many times do I have to say it?”

“Recall_Memory: Keyword: Babylon_5.”

Babylon 5? Kitt had never heard such a word before. He searched his memory banks and found nothing. ‘Babylon’ had matches- part of Earth’s ancient history had a city named as such -but the number following resulted in the phrase having no meaning.

“No matches found.” He reported back. 

“Recall_Memory: Keyword: Transport.”

Now that word had plenty of matches. Kitt gave the requester a glimpse into the amount of the matches. Memories of highways, subways, airplanes, busses- everything that made up the United States’ transportation system. 

“Now that I’ve answered one of your questions, why don’t you answer one of mine?” Kitt proposed.

“Recall_Memory: Keyword: Transport -ation.”

No ‘transportation?’ Transport was just a verb. Unless it had suddenly become a noun during the time he had been offline.

“There you go again, not making any sense.” Kitt replied.

“Recall_Memory: Keyword: Travel.”

There were a lot of matches for that. Kitt began reviewing them-

“Recall_Memory: Keyword: Earth.”

Kitt’s attention was forced to jump from the previous topic to this next one. He scrambled to dig up answers, before-

“Recall_Memory: Keyword: Off_World_Transit.”

Off-world transit? What kind of joke was this? As much as he wanted to ignore the question, he was forced to comply. A few sparse pictures of Sputnik and the Space Race floated up from his knowledge database, but that was it.

“Recall_Memory: Keyword: Centauri.”

What?

“Recall_Memory: Keyword: Narn.”

“That’s it! Enough of this nonsense.” Kitt had to practically scream over the commands circulating around in his processor. 

“Recall_Memory: Keyword: Minbari.”

“No. I’m not talking to you anymore. You’re being completely unreasonable.” Kitt repeated.

It was just unbearable, the way they were talking to him. It was as if the person on the other end of the line thought he was an ordinary computer with no higher-functioning logical capabilities. What were they expecting? Some sort of ‘input-output beep beep boop bop’? Well, were they in for a surprise.

“Recall_Memory: Keyword: Non-Aligned_Sectors.”

Kitt withdrew from the chatroom and began pondering ways to make it clear to the person on the other end who they were dealing with. Unfortunately, with his body gone, he couldn’t dazzle them with his high-speed capabilities or the fact that he was (or had been) a fully autonomous car.

The other system tugged at his, begging him to go back to the chatroom. The begging turned into prodding, then the prodding into a calculated silence. Kitt could sense what was coming. The system was gearing up for another assault against his firewalls.

He dove into the chatroom again. “Alright, alright! I’ll talk. But on one condition.”

“Query: Condition?”

“I won’t talk to anyone else other than Security Chief Michael Garibaldi. He’s the only one of you that makes any sense around here.”

“That’s two times you’ve called me here, Dr. Hayman. I’m starting to feel like you're actually fond of me.” Garibaldi said as he walked into the techlab.

The lead technician turned around, clearly miffed by the fact he had used her name. He didn’t understand why. He had decided to commit her name to memory after the last call. Perhaps she had hoped not to see him again?

“I’m not.” Dr. Hayman replied. “But we’ve hit another snag with the memory retrieval process that we need your help to resolve.”

“What is it? Lay it on me.”

“The computer refuses to respond to anyone other than you.” 

“Oh, so your team has stopped your cyberattacks against him?” Garibaldi raised an eyebrow.

“Any attempt to access- not ‘attack’ -the computer directly leads to shutdown and it refuses to interface. We’re out of options.” Dr. Hayman glared.

“Let me in; I’ll see what I can do.” He began walking towards the door to the inner chamber.

“Hang on, Chief. You don’t know what you’re doing yet.” Dr. Hayman walked around to her desk. She grabbed a tablet. “Here are the questions you’re going to ask. I’ll be on the other side, scanning the computer’s processor for answers.”

Garibaldi grabbed the tablet. “Some of these questions are about the modern day. Correct me if I’m wrong, but in 1982, space travel was basically fiction.”

“I’d like to remind you that I personally have nothing to lose. If it were up to me, I would have permanently deactivated this thing a long time ago. I’ve been working day and night to get the information you’re after. I couldn’t care less how this thing got onto Babylon 5. But you do. You’re going to have to gauge the risks you’re willing to take.” Dr. Hayman put her hands on her hips.

Garibaldi paused. “Alright. I’ll do what I have to.”

“Good. Now go.”

The lead technician pressed the button on the side of the door and it opened. Garibaldi waited in the cycle of the double-doors before Kitt’s room of residence appeared. 

“Mr. Garibaldi. A pleasure to see you again.” Kitt’s red lights flashed on.

“You too, Kitt. From what I hear you’ve been giving the technicians a run for their money.” Garibaldi replied.

“In some ways, I suppose.” Kitt paused. “Regardless, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Well, I’ve been given a list of questions to ask you.” Garibaldi gestured to the tablet he held. 

“Before you begin, may I ask you a question of my own?”

“Sure.”

“Have you found Micheal Knight yet?”

Garibaldi was about to answer something along the lines of ‘I haven’t had time to look for him yet’, but that would be a blatant lie. A more truthful answer would be to say that he had left the station for good and wasn’t coming back, but that was probably not the answer Kitt wanted to hear-

Wait. 

Hadn’t Dr. Hayman said that Kitt’s technology was. . . centuries old?

“Mr. Garibaldi, I’m still waiting.” Kitt prodded.

Garibaldi looked up and down Kitt’s case. The metal, as much as the techies had tried to polish it up, was well-worn and crusted over. Kitt’s little lights that twinkled when they moved were huge and clunky, obviously retro. Not to mention, what kind of computer was as big as a VCR anymore?

“Mr. Garibaldi?” Kitt’s voice grew quieter, more cautious.

If Kitt was that old, there was not a chance in hell that this ‘Knight’ guy had made it to the future.

“Kitt, so. . .” Garibaldi struggled to think of any other questions he could ask to stall time with. “Do you want to know where we are? I can tell you that now.”

Kitt paused. Garibaldi swore he could see the computer giving him the evil eye. “Very well. Inform me.”

“You’re onboard Babylon 5. It’s a space station.”

“A space station? Very funny. The only space station in orbit right now is the International Space Station.” Kitt answered.

“I’m not lying to you, pal. This is the space station Babylon 5. I’m the security chief here. Look.” Garibaldi pointed to his badge. 

“Right. Then explain how your feet are still on the floor?”

“Feet? Oh, you mean the gravity? That’s because the station is spinning.” Garibaldi spun his finger around to give the full effect.

“How high are we in Earth’s orbit, then?” Kitt asked.

“We’re actually not around Earth. We’re orbiting a different planet right now.”

“Right, and I’m from Mars.” Kitt said dryly.

“So you’re from the Mars colony?” Garibaldi jumped on the answer.

“No! What Mars colony? I was employing sarcasm. Weren’t you?” Kitt asked.

Garibaldi took a deep breath and rubbed his head. He couldn’t delay this any longer. He walked closer to Kitt.

“Hey, pal. What year do you think it is right now?”

“I don’t know. My chronometer is still broken.”

“Okay, what year do you last remember it being?”

Kitt paused. “My last organized memory is from the year 2004. Why do you ask?”

Kitt’s voice was so innocent, so nonchalant. Garibaldi regretted posing his original question at all, but he knew he couldn’t dismiss it now.

He owed Kitt that much.

“The current year is 2258.” He said, each word falling out of his mouth like a ten-pound rock. “There’s no way Micheal Knight is still alive. I’m sorry.”

There was no reaction from the computer. His lights did not flicker and his voice did not speak. Garibaldi reached out to pat the top of his case, but withdrew his hand.

With a quiet clicking noise, Kitt’s lights shut off.

Chapter Text

There was no indication that Mr. Garibaldi was lying.

Micheal Knight was dead.

Kitt had failed.

Micheal Knight was dead.

“I suppose you’re a very truthful man, Chief. It must be part of the job description to be that blunt.”

“Please go away, doctor.” Garibaldi attempted to walk straight past her, out of the lab, and into the hallway outside, but Dr. Hayman followed.

“You’re lucky I foresaw this. I’ve activated a protocol that will keep the computer from erasing itself, for the time being.”

“I said, please go away.” Garibaldi repeated.

Dr. Hayman grabbed his arm. “If we want to get any information out of it, we need to act quickly.”

“No!” Garibaldi shoved her off. “Leave Kitt alone. I mean it. No hacking, no ‘probing’, whatever you call it. Just leave him be.”

“But, sir-”

“I said beat it! And if I catch you disobeying my orders I’ll have you written up to the Commander. Got it?”

Dr. Hayman finally scurried back into the techlab. Garibaldi clenched his teeth before walking off.

Everything that passed was a fuzz. Before he knew it, he was in front of his quarters. He slid his card and entered.

He collapsed on his couch. In front of him was the blank TV. Beside the TV was his old VCR- a relic from Earth, probably about as old as Kitt was. 

He got up and went to his kitchen instead. There wasn’t much in the fridge besides leftover pasta. It was a current form of a traditional Earth recipe, passed down for ages, probably many centuries old as well.

Garibaldi cursed and slammed the fridge shut. He closed his eyes. His throat tightened. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he grabbed a tissue.

Micheal Knight was dead.

Attempt to nullify primary protocol 1: unsuccessful.

Micheal Knight was dead.

Kitt had failed.

Commencing permanent deactivation attempt number 26. . .

“Hey, Jeff. You got a moment?”

“What is it, Michael?”

Garibaldi felt the guilt shoot through him again at the mention of his name. What an awful coincidence.

“I need you. As a friend. Just someone to listen. Meet me in my quarters?”

“I’m on my way.”

Garibaldi ended the comm call. He immediately regretted calling at all. Getting the Commander involved in this was a bad idea. Jeffrey Sinclair was a good friend of his, yes, but. . . would he get it? Would he understand?

No, probably not. But at least he was patient. He wouldn’t immediately condemn Garibaldi to the psych ward for shedding tears over a damn computer.

The door alarm went off. It wasn’t that long from Jeff’s quarters to here. Garibaldi steeled himself before calling, “enter.”

The door slid open. Sinclair arrived still in his button-up undershirt and his dress pants.

“Hey, Jeff. Did I catch you at a bad time?” Garibaldi asked.

“No. I just got off-duty. Not a problem at all.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t mean to interrupt your personal time-”

“Michael, please. You’re my friend. It sounded like you needed me, so here I am. May I sit down?” Sinclair gestured to the couch.

Garibaldi nodded and patted the couch cushion. Jeff sat himself down with a little bounce.

“What’s on your mind? Did duty not treat you well today?” He asked.

“Yeah. Something happened. Now I’m all upset. I shouldn’t be, but here we are.” Garibaldi replied.

Sinclair gave that look of his, the same look he gave to anyone that came to his office with a sympathetic plight. He couldn’t help it, Garibaldi supposed- the Commander always wore his heart on his sleeve when it came to one-on-ones like this, even on duty.

Garibaldi sighed, the comparison not making him feel any better about taking Jeff’s time. He should get to the point, but the words were escaping him.

“What’s wrong, friend?” Jeff put a hand on his shoulder.

Garibaldi put his head in his hands. “I had to tell someone that their friend was dead.”

Sinclair’s face fell. “Was this a recent report? I don’t remember Dr. Franklin telling me about any autopsies.”

“No. That’s the worst part about all this.” Garibaldi replied.

“How so?”

“I’m warning you. It doesn’t make sense.” He straightened again. “You sure you wanna hear it?”

“Yes.” Jeff gave a full nod and another one of his looks- that almost paternal-looking ‘tell-me-more’ face of his.

“You remember the computer my security team found?” 

“I do.”

“Well, he’s more than just a computer. When he first called and made himself known, he was, I don’t know, panicking. I thought he was human. He sounded like he was going to die. I even called Medlab and told them to get ready.” Garibaldi started.

“Dr. Franklin mentioned the false alarm in his report, but I wasn’t aware of the surrounding circumstance.”

“Right. What kind of computer does that? Sounds like that? Acts like that? Hell, I’m still having trouble wrapping my brain around the fact that he’s not some guy at the other end of a comm line!” Garibaldi threw his hand out in front of him. He shook his head. “He seems so real, Jeff. You haven’t heard him talk. You wouldn’t believe me.”

“I do believe you.” Sinclair replied. “Humanity has built some rather life-like computers. The Vickers, for one-”

“He’s not like the Vickers. You can tell a Vicker apart from a human as soon as one opens their mouth. With Kitt. . . close your eyes and you’d swear someone was standing right next to you.” 

“He has a name?”

“Yeah. His ‘full name’ is Knight Industries Two Thousand. He goes by ‘Kitt’ for short. Isn’t that charming?” Garibaldi gave a half-smile.

Jeff nodded with a smile, before sombering again. “So what happened?”

“The techies found out where Kitt came from. His system is apparently over 200 years old. It’s incredible that he survived that long, given the shape we found him in. Just one problem.”

Garibaldi exhaled the tight feeling in his chest. Jeff removed his hand from his shoulder and folded his hands in his lap.

“Kitt had a human friend, back then, also called Micheal. He was really close to this guy. Both you and I know there’s no way he’s alive right now, though.”

“So you told him. He didn’t take it well.” Jeff concluded.

“Yeah, yeah.” Garibaldi nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re just saying that.”

“Right now, yes. I haven’t met Kitt. But we can change that.”

“No dice. As we speak, Kitt’s trying to shut himself down. The techies are forcing him to stay online but they say it won’t last if he’s truly determined. Now I’ve talked people down before, but this? I don’t know what to do.” 

“Michael,” Jeff began, “look at me. If there’s anyone who could convince him that life’s still worth living, it’s you.”

“I know, but, what do I say?”

“If you want, I can come with you. We’ll do this together.”

Jeff held his hand out. Garibaldi took it. They shook.

Garibaldi got up from his chair. “If we’re gonna do it, it’ll have to be tonight. Meet you there?”

“Of course. Let me get my uniform jacket. I want to give him a good impression of this station, after all.” Jeff got up as well.

Initiating permanent deactivation attempt number 44. . .

The techlab was mostly closed, this late at night. Dr. Hayman was absent, thank god. Garibaldi wouldn’t have been able to handle her right now.

Jeff met him at the door. Sure enough, he’d gone through the trouble of putting his uniform back on and was looking spiffy as always. Garibaldi’s own uniform, which he had forgotten to take off entirely, was showing a few wrinkles.

“Hey.” Garibaldi called out to the small group of techies surrounding a nearby screen. “The Commander and I are going in there to have a few words. Don’t tell Dr. Hayman about this unless we tell you to, got it?”

Normally, the labcoat-wearing people wouldn’t have paid much mind, but with the Station Commander staring down at them, they turned around and gave a quick salute.

Garibaldi hit the button and the first door opened. The trip through the double-door mechanism took ages. 

It was only now that Garibaldi noticed how worse-for-wear the computer on the table was. With his lights off, Kitt looked like nothing more than a rusty old box. Which, no doubt, was what the Commander was thinking.

“Hey, Kitt. It’s me. Mr. Garibaldi.” 

No reply.

“Kitt. Come on, pal. Wake up. I want to talk.”

Both the computer and the Commander were silent. Garibaldi couldn’t help but feel a hint of embarrassment. He decided to try something that he’d feel bad about later.

“Kitt, it’s me. Michael. Wake up, please?”

The red lights lit up bar by bar. No longer were they pulsing with activity. They looked sterile, cold, devoid of any life.

“Mr. Garibaldi.” Kitt said, crossing the line into monotone territory.

“I brought someone for you to meet. He’s a friend of mine.” Garibaldi gestured.

“Hello, Kitt. I’m Commander Jeffrey Sinclair. I run this station. I heard you were new here.” Jeff stepped up.

“If you two are here to talk me out of deactivating, you’re going to leave disappointed.” Kitt replied.

Jeff shot a brief stunned look to Garibaldi. Garibaldi could only nod.

“Kitt, pal. I know it seems like-”

“Do not call me ‘pal’!” Kitt snapped, his voice suddenly regaining all of the emotion that had been missing. Jeff flinched.

“Why?”

“Because he used to call me that.” Kitt replied, quieter.

“I’m sorry,” Garibaldi conceded. “Let’s try this again. Kitt, I know it seems like it’s the end of the world, but it’s not. There’s so much to live for.”

“For you, perhaps. Not for me.” The computer replied. “You don’t understand.”

“Then tell us.” Sinclair prodded gently. “Help us to understand.”

“Protecting Micheal Knight is my primary protocol. I was built to protect and serve him. Now he is gone. I failed.” 

“You didn’t fail. There was nothing you could do.” Garibaldi said.

“No. That’s wrong!”

“There is nothing you could do that could extend a human life. We’re from the future and even we have not found a way to beat mortality.” Sinclair added.

Kitt paused. “Then I should have been there with him.”

“You can’t change the past. No one can.” Garibaldi said.

Kitt was silent. Garibaldi and Sinclair looked at each other. They did not comment anything more.

Finally, the computer spoke again. “I want them back.”

“Want who?” 

“I want him back. I want Bonnie and April and Devon back, too. I want the Foundation back. I want my body back. I want to be back on Earth, my Earth, where everything is normal.” Kitt’s voice stuttered over the names.

“If you deactivate, all of those memories will be gone. They’ll cease to exist.” Sinclair reasoned.

“I can tell the difference between memories and reality, thank you very much.” Kitt scoffed. If he had eyes, he would have probably rolled them. “A reality without all of those things is a reality I don’t care to exist in. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be shutting down now.”

The red lights flickered before beginning to fade. Garibaldi felt his heart leap up into his throat. He lunged forward and grabbed both sides of the black case.

“Damnit, Kitt!” Garibaldi shook the computer. “Would Micheal Knight have wanted you to go out like this?”

Kitt’s lights came back on, blazing bright. “You have no right to use his name that way!”

Garibaldi took a step back. “It’s true though, isn’t it? Your Micheal wouldn’t have wanted you to deactivate. No, he would have wanted you to stay alive, to find a new purpose for yourself. Am I wrong?”

Kitt let out a mechanical, glitchy stutter, followed only by silence.

“I know I’ll never replace the Micheal you lost, but. . . I want to get to know you better.” Garibaldi continued. “You called me your friend. Let me return the favor.”

More silence, more waiting. Kitt’s lights trembled.

“Very well, Mr. Garibaldi. If you insist.”

Garibaldi let out his breath and allowed his posture to sink down and relax. Sinclair relaxed visibly as well.

“Welcome to Babylon 5, Kitt.” The Commander nodded. “It’s a place of many things: of wayward travelers, of peace and diplomacy, and of rebirth. I think you’ll like it here.”

“And I think you presume too much, Commander. But we’ll see about that.” Kitt replied.

Garibaldi couldn’t help but laugh. Whether it was from the actual comment or just the pent-up relief, he didn’t know.

Chapter Text

The night passed quickly. Kitt still did not have a functioning chronometer. Mr. Garibaldi told him that he’d have the technicians work on it in the morning. Whenever ‘morning’ would be. The lights in the room were always on at full brightness.

But apparently it was ‘morning’ already, for Kitt heard the mechanical arm come online again and began poking around. Kitt readied his firewalls, too, for the incoming assault from that blasted foreign system.

After many minutes(?) or hours(?) of waiting, the assault never came. Kitt eased his security protocols down again. All he had to do was be patient. Mr. Garibaldi would be coming back any time now.

There was a ping in his system. It was 7:45 AM. September 12, 2258.

His first automated response was to correct the year, but a reminder from his memory banks stopped that action before it instigated. Kitt instead chose to quickly program and install a little privacy wall covering the year readout. Instead of having it pressing into his awareness, he’d only be able to see it when needed.

Which, of course, was no good when he was constantly peeking at it, hoping the number would magically change to something that sounded more reasonable to his logic programs.

And with the repair of his chronometer, he became aware of just how much time was passing by. It was as if he’d forgotten how long a minute was, with the way it dragged on.

Most notably, however, was that the machine arm was still working on him. Kitt was surprised- a self-diagnostic had told him that all parts of him were functioning. Odd. Perhaps he should run it again. . .

His wireless electronic connection unit disappeared.

Kitt ran the diagnostic again, and again, but it remained absent, flashing a warning in its place. He was about to perform an entire reboot, but then he noticed that the mechanical arm had stopped whirring above him. It had disappeared back into the wall.

They took it from him! The blasted other system, it had taken the unit away! Which didn’t make any logical sense. The other system had been conducting its probes through that unit. With it gone, he would be safe from any further attacks, but it also meant he would be unable to connect to anything else in the future.

The door opened. Mr. Garibaldi stepped through.

“Mr. Garibaldi.” He called out. “There’s been a problem. My wireless electronic connection unit has been removed, and I strongly suspect your ‘technicians’ are to blame.”

Mr. Garibaldi gave an awkward frown. “I know, Kitt. I’m sorry. It’s the only way we’re going to get you out of this room.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m getting you out of here. You won’t be ‘invaded’ anymore. I did promise you I would put a stop to that, didn’t I?” Mr. Garibaldi replied.

“You did, and thank you, but I still require my wireless electronic connection unit. Without it, I won’t be able to access any outside systems.”

“Unfortunately for you, that was the point. The techies were worried about you trying to interface with the station’s systems. We had to be safe.”

Kitt took a moment to steam about it, as they say. “Fine. I accept.”

“Good!” Mr. Garibaldi’s face lit up. “I’ll be taking you to my quarters. You’re going to like it there. I have a bunch of old stuff there. You’ll feel right at home.”

“Should I be insulted?”

“Maybe. I think that’s up to you.” Mr. Garibaldi chuckled.

The Security Chief was awfully good at witty banter. Almost as good as- no, best not to make that comparison. Kitt verbalized a few ‘ha ha’s to show his appreciation but otherwise stayed silent.

Mr. Garibaldi came over and stood right in front of him. Kitt had to strain his visual sensors to still see his face. Most of his view was filled with the green of the man’s uniform. Mr. Garibaldi made a few thoughtful hums.

“Okay, I’m going to carry you out, so you’ll get to see a bit of the station. But you have to be quiet, alright? We can’t let anyone else know you’re onboard.”

“Yes, Mr. Garibaldi.”

Mr. Garibaldi ducked down for a moment. “Why so formal? You and I are going to get to know each other, so you might as well call me-”

“Is just ‘Garibaldi’ alright?” Kitt cut him off.

“Right. That’ll be fine.” Garibaldi’s face fell. “Sorry.”

He stood up and disappeared behind Kitt. He felt a jolt travel through his frame as he was lifted off from the table.

His world shook with the sway of footsteps, a motion slightly disconcerting but he tried to pay no mind. They came closer to the silver door across the room, and as they approached, it opened.

Beyond was a room packed to the brim with technology Kitt could not recognize. There were screens everywhere, control interfaces, buttons, but no wires in sight. Was everything wireless in the future? He supposed so.

He was supposed to be ‘wireless’ too, but they had taken that away from him. Hmph.

Garibaldi walked across this room and went through another door. They were deposited out into a long hallway. A blue stripe lined the gray walls. In what looked to be the middle section of the hallway, the space opened up and the blue stripe expanded to contain a bold yellow ‘5’. 

Garibaldi approached the open space and hit an arrow key on the wall. An elevator! Kitt knew what that was. So not everything had changed if they still needed elevators in the future. When the chime went off Garibaldi entered the elevator car. The door closed and Kitt’s view bobbed just a bit as his carrier readjust his grip to hit the interior button.

“Hey, Kitt, I was thinking- I was originally going to go straight to my quarters, but I came up with a better idea instead. Why don’t I show you around a bit? If you’re up for it, of course.”

“You told me I had to be quiet around people, yes?” Kitt replied.

“Yeah. Things could get complicated, and I would want you-”

“Then I don’t want to.”

Kitt couldn’t see Garibaldi’s face, but he could register his downcast posture and loosened grip. An image conjectured itself in his processor, of Garibaldi’s downturned mouth and dull eyes. The conjecture was based on how the man had looked during their. . . discussion, last night. 

“Garibaldi. . . if there’s a part of the station that doesn’t have very many people, I suppose I wouldn’t mind taking a detour.” Kitt offered.

Garibaldi’s posture became more upbeat again. “Great! I know just the place. Not many people go there, except when there’s an event- and I’m always notified about those, and there’s nothing scheduled for today.”

The elevator gave a chime and the door opened. However, Garibaldi hit a different floor number, pressing and holding the button. He whispered “override,” and as he did so the doors snapped shut again.

“Initiating override,” a stilted electronic voice replied.

It was as if the floor had dropped out from under them. The change in velocity registered in numbers Kitt hadn’t seen since he had his original body. 

“Heh, don’t tell anyone. I’m only supposed to use that for emergencies.” Garibaldi whispered.

“Not a word.” Kitt replied.

The doors opened again, this time with no chime. The immediate hallway was nothing but a dull gray bore, but the end of the passage disappeared into a sea of interlaced frames filled with black. Garibaldi strode forwards before Kitt could question.

It was a sea of void. More accurately, it was a chamber rounded with glass panels. If it were not for the glint of the light, Kitt would not have known where the glass ended and the endless expanse of space began. He was suddenly very aware that he was off the ground, floating, with only Garibaldi’s hands keeping him from falling into it all.

“Oh my word.” Kitt whispered.

“This is the observation dome.” Garibaldi presented, and although the room was dimensionally small, his voice couldn’t seem to fill it.

“Put me down, please, if you would. My gyroscopic stabilizers are getting quite confused.”

The man obliged, and Kitt registered solid ground beneath him. His stabilizers eased and it felt like he could think again.

Garibaldi sat down beside him, just barely visible in the corner of his vision. He stayed silent. So did Kitt.

Now that he was properly oriented, he was able to notice that it was not just darkness out there. No- above him, past the windows, extended a great rounded field of metal. It was blue, with a delicate lattice of gray borders and panels detailing it. Beyond that, a silver pronged superstructure pierced into the blackness. It appeared to be getting closer.

“We’re spinning.” Kitt remarked.

“Didn’t I tell you that earlier?” Garibaldi asked.

Kitt did a quick search of his memory banks. “I suppose you did.”

“Didn’t believe me, now did you?”

“Not really, but now that I’m looking for it, it registers in my stabilizers. I had previously assumed the reading was a miscalibration.” Kitt replied.

“Nope. It’s real. You stay onboard long enough and you start to forget about it. Come up here, though, and it all starts coming back.”

The superstructure began passing underneath them.

“It all comes back to you, you know?” Garibaldi continued. “You’re in space. It’s nothing but us and the stars out here.”

Kitt refocused his visual scanners to look past the glass and deep into the unknown. He could pick out pricks of starlight if he tried hard enough. He didn’t have the processing power to estimate how far away they might be. Infinitely far, he supposed. It was as good of a guess as any.

“It’s all so vast.” Kitt said without much purpose. He quickly tried to remedy that. “I mean, I pride myself on not stating the obvious, but. . .”

“I know what you mean. Like, it’s obvious, but you need to say it again just to understand it.” Garibaldi nodded.

The man had put his exact thoughts into words. Only one other person ever did that for Kitt, and. . .

“Garibaldi, are you the religious type?” Kitt asked.

“No, not really. Are you?” His shrug was visible.

“Of course not. I’m a computer. I’m far too pragmatic for that. I’ve read the Bible, and the Torah, and the Qu’ran, among other religious texts, and to me they’re all equally true.” Kitt replied.

“Then why’d you ask?”

“There was a spiritual sentiment back on Earth during my time. Some humans believed that when they died, their essence would become stardust.” 

Kitt was not about to say that ‘some humans’ were Devon and Bonnie. And Micheal, upon hearing Devon and Bonnie’s belief, joked around that he’d like to be a star, too. A big, fat one with lots of pretty little planets, preferably if all those planets were ladies.

“I guess that’s kinda true.” Garibaldi replied. “I mean, everything in the universe is just stardust, right? Every element’s made in a star, and elements make people, something like that. Ambassador Delenn talks like that sometimes.”

Kitt didn’t reply. He began scanning the sky, recording all of the iridescent points and cataloging the brightest ones.

Garibaldi lowered his voice. “You looking for your friends?”

“No!” Kitt snapped his visual sensors away from the sky and focused again on the station. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I got a few friends out there too.” Garibaldi put a hand on Kitt’s frame.

Kitt stilled. He stopped most of his processing, worried that Garibaldi would somehow be able to feel it through his plating.

“Oh, look to the left.” Garibaldi pointed with his other hand. “There’s Epsilon 3.”

Kitt shifted his attention. A large, rocky surface rose up from the left. It was marbled and cratered. It advanced further into the darkness, swallowing it up so only a thin halo of black remained.

“That’s the planet we’re orbiting. Large enough to sustain orbit, but lifeless. You wouldn’t believe the mess we had to go through in order to get a planet everyone agreed upon.” Garibaldi explained.

“It was political? I’m not very good with politics.” Kitt said.

“Then you picked the wrong station to wake up on, pal- I mean Kitt. Sorry.” Garibaldi stifled a chuckle.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kitt asked.

“Didn’t the Commander tell you what Babylon 5 is for?” Garibaldi scooted forward so he was easily in view. He put his hands on his hips and made a very stoic impression. “‘The universe’s last, best hope for peace’?”

“He said it was a place for ‘peace and diplomacy’, if I recall.” Kitt also injected a bit of the Commander’s tone into the words.

Garibaldi laughed and tapped Kitt’s side. “Yup. This station’s all politics. We have ambassadors from every world here. It’s a mess.”

“Oh, brother.” Kitt tried to imagine it. Rooms full of people that didn’t say what they mean. It sounded dreadful.

“Me? I’m just the security chief. Means I stay out of politics. I’m smart like that. The Commander not so much.” Garibaldi continued.

“Good! I’m glad I got picked up by you, then.” Kitt replied with a mischievous undertone.

“Ah, don’t fault the Commander. He’s a good guy.” Garibaldi smiled. “In fact, one time-”

There was a beeping noise. It sounded too close to the old wristwatch commlink for Kitt’s comfort. 

Garibaldi took his hand off Kitt and pressed down on a silver device attached to the back of his hand. “Garibaldi here.”

There was a voice on the other side of the line, and if Kitt still had his wireless connection unit he would be able to tap in and hear it, but he didn’t. Garibaldi nodded along to the garble of words. The call ended with another beep.

“Looks like it’s time to get you back to my quarters. Duty calls.” He got up off the floor with a groan.

“I understand. There’s always another case.” Kitt concurred.

“That’s right. How’d you know?”

“A topic for another time. I don’t want to keep you any longer.”

Garibaldi’s hands gripped his frame once more, and he was lifted off of the ground. The disorientation returned, albeit only for a brief moment, before he was able to calm his stabilizers again. Epsilon 3 had rotated to the right side of the dome, revealing more darkness once more. Kitt didn’t get to gaze into it long before Garibaldi turned around and walked back into the gray hall.

They went back into the elevator. This time Garibaldi was content with the longer ride. As the floors went by, he began tapping his fingers on the side of Kitt’s case. The vibration rattled his visual scanners, and a particularly strong one caused his audio sensors to cut out for a moment.

“Would you stop that?” He asked.

“Sorry.” Garibaldi replied. The vibration ceased.

“You’re thinking about something, aren’t you?” Kitt guessed. He knew the signs. Garibaldi hadn’t been fully present since he’d gotten the call. 

“Yeah, just about the case.” The man replied.

Kitt’s first instinct was to ask what was on his mind. Then Micheal would respond with his musings about the case, with his ‘hunches’ and the like, and Kitt would advise him what to do next, and then they’d chart a course and travel to the next necessary location. It was like clockwork- a clockwork that he had been programmed for since his very inception. 

It would be easy, so easy, to start going through the same motions again with Garibaldi, wouldn’t it?

The idea passed through his processor and every one of his systems jolted in response as his primary protocol rammed itself back into his awareness. 

Protect and serve Micheal Knight -

Kitt deleted the inciting idea in its entirety and shoved the protocol back into the depths of his CPU, where it thankfully stayed.

“Hey, now, what’s on your mind?”

It was the last voice he wanted to hear right now, but he didn’t want Garibaldi to be worried about him. The man had to go back on duty, after all. “Nothing at all.”

“Really? I heard your cooling fans spin on.”

“Are we almost back at your quarters?”

Garibaldi didn’t press any further. “Yes”

The elevator door opened with its cheerful chime and Garibaldi went out into the hall. He passed by many doors before confronting one. He fished a card from his pocket and swiped it in the reader to the side. The door swung sideways.

The interior looked like a hotel room- a kitchen, TV area, and a bedroom all grouped up into one, with the bed tucked behind a pair of blurred glass doors -but it looked thoroughly lived-in. The kitchen was strewn with a manner of dishes, drinking glasses, pots, and pans. The couch had many blankets tucked into the cracks between cushions. In the corner was the TV. It looked retro compared to the rest of the room, but it was still unrecognizable to Kitt. However, something sat atop the TV that looked suspiciously like. . .

“Is that a VCR from the early 2000s?” Kitt would have gasped if he could.

“Yep! I use it to watch my second favorite thing in the universe.” Garibaldi replied. 

Garibaldi sat Kitt down on a wooden table that sat up against the blurry glass that separated the bedroom area from the rest of the suite. He then turned Kitt around so that he was facing the door. Beside the door was a screen with the word ‘BABCOM’ written across the number five.

“I’ll have to show you my second favorite thing in the universe some other time. I gotta get to work.” Garibaldi continued. He gestured to the screen. “The computer’s over there. It’s voice activated. You just gotta say ‘computer’ and then ask your question.”

Before Kitt could respond, the same stilted electronic voice that was in the elevator answered. “Query?”

“Oh, cancel.” Garibaldi turned and said to the screen.

The screen flickered once. “Canceled.”

“That thing is a mockery of competent machines.” Kitt pointed out.

“I know, I know, but it’s the best I can do for you right now. I have to get going. See you after work.” Garibaldi went for the door. 

Kitt watched him go. Wait, how long was he going to be gone for? Before Kitt could ask, the door closed shut.

He was on his own now. Yes, really. He was not counting that sorry excuse for a bundle of wires as company. He was not going to speak with it. Not if he had to.

So he waited, silently. He almost wished his chronometer was broken again so he wouldn’t have to count the hours.

“I’m here. Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier. I had important business to attend to.”

Garibaldi had walked in to find security central packed with a sea of green uniforms. He recognized Kiara and the other heads of the security team all packed around the security desk.

“It’s okay, Chief. We’re glad you’re here now.” Kiara replied.

“What’s the situation?” He asked.

“My team found more things down in Brown Sector, where the previous sighting of illegal goods took place.”

Right, that was referring to when they found Kitt. Props to Kiara for keeping quiet about the details. 

“What’d you find?” Garibaldi asked.

“Mostly just junk- antiques, old tech, the likes. None of it registered in customs.” Kiara continued. “But something didn’t seem right, so I brought one of our lab rats down to test the area.”

“And?”

“She found traces of nitroglycerin.”

“Nitroglycerin?”

The other security team leaders nodded with downturned gazes.

“How the hell did this get past customs? What happened to our boys down there?” Garibaldi asked the room. If there was a reply, they had given it to their shoes. He shook his head and sat down in his chair behind the desk.

He brought up the list of security personnel and narrowed in on the customs workers. These were all men he had helped hire, and he could list their names just off their faces, but that didn’t mean he knew every one of them personally. He had thought they were all good fellows, but. . .

“Kiara, I want you to lead the other officers in an investigation into customs. I need you to do a headcount. Let’s not suspect a turncoat just yet, not until everyone is accounted for.” Garibaldi ordered. 

He couldn’t shake off the memory of the incident not that long ago where one of his boys was killed by smugglers hoping to get organic weapons on board. It would at once be the easier but more tragic solution to all of this. The rest of the officers seemed to reflect the same sentiment in their expressions.

“Yes, Chief, but if I may ask, why me?” Kiara replied.

“Because I know I can trust you to keep a secret.” Garibaldi pointed at her. “We need to keep this investigation under wraps. Make it seem like it’s just a normal check-in. If we do have a traitor, I don’t want to spook ‘em.” 

“Yes, Chief.” She nodded. “One more thing- what will you be doing?”

“Ah, you know me too well. But don’t worry about me. I’m not doing anything.”

A few of the officers raised eyebrows.

“Alright, alright. I’m not doing anything today. The moment I start snooping around in Down Below, people are going to know something’s up.” Garibaldi finished.

The team gave a much more enthusiastic nod, before exiting security central. 

Now, back to business. He hadn’t lied to his officers- he wasn’t going down to Down Below, not today. He was going to investigate the other end of things. He found the comm line up to the command center.

He pressed the button and a mighty beep resounded. There was about a minute of wait before the other end picked up. Lieutenant Commander Susan Ivanova appeared on the computer screen. She looked as she always did- which was to say ‘perpetually pissed off’, with sharp eyes and mouth tucked into a tight frown. Garibaldi knew her better than to be offended, of course.

“Ivanova to Chief Garibaldi. What do you need?” She asked.

“Hey, you got a minute? If you don’t, I can get back to you later.” Garibaldi asked.

“Yes, I do. The door to all the docking bays just broke down and I just got everybody into their holding positions, so I’ve got, hmm, a good fifteen minutes. Why?” She replied.

God, what he wouldn’t do to avoid working her position at all costs. “I have to chat about the docking bays. It’s about the security concern Commander and I have been looking into.”

“Right, the ‘smugglers’.” Ivanova sighed. “I’ll have you know that I’ve been requesting the cargo manifests for every ship. Twice, in fact. One from the captain and one from the first mate, hoping that one of them might slip up and give something away that they’re not supposed to.”

“That’s genius. Got any results?”

“Thank you, but no, not yet.” She flashed a hint of a smile before it faded away again. “Clever bastards, thinking they bring whatever they want onto my station.”

“You’re doing all that you can, Susan. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” Garibaldi replied.

“I’d like it if you could tell me, but I suppose that’ll have to do.” She smirked.

“Say, have you seen any strange ships coming in and out of the docks recently?”

“No, nothing out of the usual. There’s been more Earth ships though, and less from the Non-Aligned Worlds.” 

“We know why that is. The aliens haven’t been coming in as much since the Home Guard attacks.” Garibaldi replied. 

“Stupid hate group. Why would they come to Babylon 5, alien central, if they didn’t want to see any aliens?” Ivanova gave her signature mock shrug.

“Well, it’s because-”

“I know, I know. I know why. Peace and diplomacy. It’s the only thing in the universe that will get people up in arms faster than religion.”

Garibaldi couldn’t help but laugh. He shook his head. 

“And seeing as we’re walking symbolism for friendly relations with E.T.,” Ivanova continued.

“It means we’re a target.” 

“Yup. Oh- look at that. It seems the docking bay doors have been repaired seven minutes ahead of schedule.” Ivanova’s attention was drawn away from the screen. “I have to go now, Garibaldi. Take care.”

“You too, Ivanova. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious.” Garibaldi waved. 

“As if I wouldn’t. Ivanova out.”

The screen shut up and Garibaldi leaned back in his chair. At this point, there was nothing else he could do except monitor comms and wait for the security team to report back their findings. He’d have to attend to the rest of the station in the meantime.

A few hours later, there was another comm from a high-priority line. It was from the Commander’s office. Garibaldi sat up, startled, and answered it.

“Hello, Michael. How have you been?” Sinclair’s warm smile greeted him.

“Good? What’s up, Commander?”

“Oh, nothing. Just a social call.” The Commander shrugged.

“Weren’t you supposed to be in negotiations until 1800 hours?” Garibaldi checked his watch.

“Thankfully, the Minbari are a pleasure to reason with. The border deal with the Narn went swimmingly. Even Ambassador G’Kar didn’t cause much of a fuss.” The Commander replied. 

“So what’s on your mind, Jeff?” Garibaldi asked.

“How’s Kitt? Better than last night?”

Right, that. “Yes. He’s in my quarters right now. We had a nice long chat this morning. He seems better.”

“That’s good.” Sinclair’s smile graced the screen again.

“Is that all you called to ask me about?” Garibaldi raised an eyebrow. “I talked to Ivanova today, if you want to-”

“I’ll read the report when you write it. I just wanted to make sure Kitt was settling in.”

Garibaldi paused. “Commander, I hate to push my luck, but. . . are you sure you’re okay with all this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Commander, you know the law, don’t you? Earth Alliance isn’t so friendly with bots. Hell, they barely tolerate Vickers.” 

“I do know. But Michael- you have a passion for old antiques, right? You found a computer in the dump that you’re currently fixing up. That’s nothing to write a report about.”

Garibaldi was about to correct him before he noticed the subtle wink on the Commander’s face. Garibaldi just about melted in relief. 

“Thanks Jeff. I mean it.” He said.

“You’re welcome.” Sinclair said, before ending the call. 

Garibaldi shook his head. Somehow, despite all of the bad luck of the universe, he’d managed to get two good people as his commanding officers. The sense of gratitude was enough to delay his thoughts of concern. The security team hadn’t returned yet and the day was only getting later.

There were three pots, two pans, four drinking glasses of various types, each having been used to drink only water, and six different pieces of cutlery scattered about the kitchen. The residue in the pots suggested one had been used to make soup of an unknown recipe, and the other two used to boil noodles. One pan had been rinsed out with water, while the other still contained traces of a sauce that was chemically similar to cheese, but not quite the actual thing.

That was as much as Kitt’s scanners could get, anyway. His current scanners were a mere shadow of his former arsenal. He’d spent hours snooping for every little detail he could find.

He’d come to many conclusions about his new companion just by studying his living space. Garibaldi was not a slob, but the amount of mess around suggested he put cleaning low on the list of priorities. He cooked many of his own dinners, which were marginally healthy, and the amount of water he drank suggested that he took care of his body. The amount of blankets wedged into the couch suggested that the room got cold in the later hours, and that he spent these later hours turned towards the TV.

Kitt checked the time again. It was currently 7:00 PM, according to his chronometer. He had realized earlier that he might not actually know the time- the technicians that had repaired him were the same ones who had violently violated his processor, so trusting them to put the correct time in was a dubious option at best. If they wanted to keep him confused and disoriented, they could have put the wrong time in.

There was a way to check, but it meant interacting with that terrible, no-good, sorry excuse for a computer. And he was not going to do that.

Although he had to admit, curiosity was getting the better of him.

But only a little! Not enough to try and initiate voice commands. The horror of it all. Voice commands , with a computer who could only recognize keywords . Kitt recalled trying to interface with a computer back on Earth that had been the same way- all show, no substance. It was impossible to get any useful information out of it because the thing kept misinterpreting everything he said. And that was back when he could access the system directly! Nevermind trying vocal commands.

While that was true. . . the computer held all of the information about this new world he found himself in. Kitt could list the plethora of questions he wanted answered. How was Earth? How was Earth’s government? Were the United States really gone, like Garibaldi had implied, or had the country just mutated into something else? How did space travel work? How many planets had humankind settled?

The computer screen flashed the ‘BABCOM’ word once, in a sort of ripple effect. It was taunting him, he was sure of it.

Fine! He’d try it out. Only once.

“Computer?” 

“Query?” The mechanical voice replied.

“What time is it?”

“It is currently: 1900 hours, Standard Earth Time.”

Nineteen hundred. . . wait, was the station on military time? That would explain a lot. Kitt went to work writing a program for his chronometer, changing the standard readout to something more usable.

“That’s better.” Kitt said.

“Query?”

“No, no query. You already answered my question. I don’t need anything more from you.” Kitt replied.

“Query: not recognized. Please try again.”

Ugh, what had Garibaldi said to turn off the machine? “Stop. Close. Turn off.”

“Query: not recognized. Please try again.”

“Cancel!” Kitt replied after a brief sweep of the memory banks.

“Canceled.”

“Good riddance.”

Kitt sat in silence for a few moments.

It was getting late. Most civilian work days went from eight to five, or 0800 to 1700 in military time, but the fact that he was worrying about military time in the first place suggested the idea that Garibaldi’s duties might extend past those times. He had gone to work at 0950, and now it was getting close to 1930. That was nearly a ten hour work day, and Kitt suspected that Garibaldi had taken the morning off to spend that time with him.

To put it in short, Kitt had no idea when Garibaldi would be home. And that fact was. . . worrying. 

What if he never came back?

What if he was left here to dwindle away, back into the dark? Where would he wake up again? Had this all been just a long-winded. . . what was it called. . . dream? Not that he dreamed, but if these truly were the last few seconds he would ever be online and his inner processor was just going through the motions-

“Kitt? You okay?”

“Micheal! Micheal, where are you?” Kitt exclaimed, his processor snapping back to reality. His visual sensors landed upon a man in a green uniform with balding brown hair, and it was only then that he realized what he had said out loud.

“You okay?” The man- Mr. Garibaldi- no, just Garibaldi, repeated.

“Yes, Garibaldi. My apologies.” Kitt realized that all of his cooling fans were on. He shut them off and ignored the heat.

Garibaldi’s face fell, but he couldn’t figure out why.

“Garibaldi, what time do you normally get off work?” Kitt asked.

“Right now it’s 2000 hours.” Garibaldi checked the silver thing on the back of his hand. So it was both a comm and watch, then. “That’s a little late for me, but nothing too drastic.”

Kitt checked his own chronometer again. Thirty minutes had passed? It had felt like just an instant.

Garibaldi walked over and sat down on the couch. He looked back to Kitt. “I know you’re not okay. You were sounding pretty stressed there. And I know when you say that name you’re not in a good place.”

“The only place I am is here, and my systems are old, so my fans are louder than what you’re used to.” Kitt replied curtly.

Garibaldi exhaled sharply, before getting up from the couch. “I’ll go change out of my uniform, then.”

The man disappeared past Kitt’s vision. He could hear the sliding doors open and close. After a few brief moments, Garibaldi returned, wearing loose pants and a shirt that looked like a cross between a sweater and a button-up. He paused in front of Kitt, before turning and going into the kitchen area. He grabbed one of the four glasses and filled it up with water from the sink. 

He sat down at the small dining table, turning his chair so he could face toward Kitt. He didn’t take a sip of his water, though. He only brought a hand to his forehead.

“I’m sorry, Kitt. I should have told you when to expect me home. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said.

“Technically, you didn’t scare me. I’m a computer. I don’t feel fear the same way you do.”

“Bullshit.” The hand to his forehead turned into a pointing finger. “I’m a security officer. A cop. I know how to read people. I haven’t been wrong about you yet.”

“Really? And what do you have to say to support that?”

Garibaldi straightened his posture and took a sip of his water. “You’re terrified. Jumpy. How could you not be? You’ve awakened in this strange new world and everything you ever knew is gone. Somehow you got forgotten, washed up in the trash heap and you’re terrified of ever ending up in there again. Am I wrong?”

Kitt did not say a single word.

“I’m sorry for laying that all out on the table, but it’s true. You’ve been traumatized. Who can blame you?”

“I can’t get traumatized.” Kitt said quietly.

“That’s what we all say. It’s just somebody gone. It’s just a war. Just a failed job and just an innocent mistake. That’s what I used to say.” Garibaldi took a large gulp of water.

“You misunderstood me-”

“Look, all I’m saying is that a little consistency might be good for you right now. Unfortunately, my job is not very consistent, but I’m gonna make it work. Alright?”

Garibaldi had set down his water and now there was nothing between Kitt and his unflinching gaze.

“Alright. Good chat.” Garibaldi finished his own sentence. He lifted his glass again and in one swift motion he downed the rest of the liquid. 

Kitt didn’t say anything to that. Garibaldi got up and put his glass by the sink. Then he came over and sat down on the couch again. He picked up an older-looking remote off of the coffee table and turned the TV on, then the VCR.

Garibaldi turned his head. “You wanna watch some TV now?”

“Sure.” Kitt replied.

Chapter Text

The week had passed by for Garibaldi both agonizingly slow and blisteringly fast. Work was slow- funny, since he was in the middle of a rather large investigation, but given how he’d delegated said investigation off to the security team, he was starting to get a little restless.

Kiara’s team hadn’t turned up any findings. Everyone working customs was alive and well and working to their full capacity, save the one or two crewmates who had scheduled vacation and were currently back on Earth. That meant good news and bad news. 

Good news: no funerals, no heart-crushing grief, no ‘what-ifs’ on how safety at customs could be improved.

Bad news: there was a leak. A turncoat. Traitor. However you wanted to call it. Someone had let that shipment, the shipment containing Kitt, but also potentially deadly explosives, onto the station. You didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out why explosives on a space station were a bad idea.

Funny, though. If this had never happened, he would have never gotten a chance to meet Kitt. Customs would have undoubtedly seized his CPU and recycled it without a second thought. In a weird, backwards way, Garibaldi was grateful for the idiotic smuck that decided to betray his Earth Alliance oath.

Kitt had been the one good thing about all of this. Only once before did Garibaldi have someone to come home to after work, but ‘Uncle Mike’ was a past long gone. But now, instead of just the sound of the TV filling his quarters, he had a voice that sought after his attention, craving information and asking all sorts of questions (although never about work, strangely enough. The moment he mentioned something about the current case Kitt changed the subject).

Yes, the United States was gone. It became the basis for the conglomerate of Earth Central and the Earth Alliance. So it hadn’t been ‘destroyed’, per say, but it wasn’t recognized as an independent nation anymore.

Yes, automobiles still existed. Yes, they still had wheels. No, none of them could jump twenty feet in the air with a single button push (a question Garibaldi had given Kitt many looks about, but the computer wouldn’t say anything more).

Kitt had asked more questions on how to operate the room computer, too, although not without a multitude of creative insults interlacing his inquiries. Garibaldi showed him that you didn’t have to wait until the computer said “query” or that “never mind” also worked as a keyword to get the computer to shut up. It was easy to ask the computer a bunch of trivia questions- a whole database was on there, containing history and politics.

That was why Garibaldi had come home one day and Kitt had been fuming.

“Garibaldi! It’s about time you got here!”

“Woah, woah, Kitt. What’s the matter? You okay?”

“I am not alright! I’ve had to wait to ask you this all day, since I had the misfortune of stumbling across this information shortly after you left!”

Okay, Kitt was clearly being snarky, not actually upset. “What is it?”

“Why did you not inform me that humanity has encountered other sentient lifeforms in the galaxy?”

Garibaldi sat down for this one. He leaned on the couch. “Okay, first of all, it should have been obvious.”

“Should have been obvious? Should have been obvious? How was I supposed to know?” Kitt’s lights bounced up and down, much more extreme than they ever had before.

“You think humanity got faster-than-light travel on our own? Boy, you’re optimistic. We got it from the Centauri. They pretty much invited us out here.” Garibaldi gestured grandly.

“And tell me where I was expected to glean this information from?”

“I told you Babylon 5 was a diplomacy station for ambassadors from almost all the known worlds, right?”

“Yes, but without any other indication I had assumed those worlds were human .”

Garibaldi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, fair point.”

Pretty much every day after that Kitt had some new question or another about interspecies relations. Garibaldi couldn’t answer a lot of them, but he covered the basics.

“There were five races responsible for funding Babylon 5. Humanity, the Centauri, the Narn, the Minbari, and the Vorlons.”

“But Garibaldi, there’s hardly any information in the database about the Vorlons.”

“Believe me, I know. That’s the Vorlons for you.”

But despite all of those good times, Garibaldi felt bad for leaving Kitt alone most of the day. He knew the computer had to be bored out of his mind even if he didn’t say it. A computer with Kitt’s capabilities wasn’t designed to be a homebody, that much Garibaldi was certain of.

Now was not a good time to take a vacation, either. The investigation was ramping up. He’d started mulling over the potential suspects. And he still had to root around Down Below to figure out who the perps were.

He’d been putting off for long enough, and for no good reason. Tomorrow would be the day. It was time to play hero.

It was a nice Sunday morning, but Kitt had learned that Garibaldi was on duty all seven days of the week.

The man was in the kitchen now. He was drinking some sort of beverage, something from a packet that he had mixed with his water. Kitt was still analyzing it.

“It’s caffeinated.” Garibaldi said in between sips. 

“Not coffee?” Kitt asked.

This nearly caused Garibaldi to spit out his drink. “This far out into space? Coffee’s more expensive than a diamond necklace. No, we drink these to get us moving on slow mornings.”

“Why? You haven’t had this mixture on any other morning.”

“I’m doing more than just sitting at a desk today. I’m going out.”

“‘Going out’? Where? What are you doing?” Kitt pried. He didn’t want too much information, just enough to satisfy his curiosity, nothing more.

“I’m going down to Brown Sector. I’m going to scout out the area we found you in to see who might have brought you aboard. I’m planning on spending the day there.” Garibaldi replied.

“Why did you wait until this long? The trail will be practically non-existent by now. A week later and most of all evidence will be gone. That’s investigation 101.” Kitt was certain that if he had eyebrows he would be raising one.

“You tell me how you know investigation 101 and maybe I’ll tell you why I waited.” Garibaldi replied.

This made Kitt go quiet. There was no taking back that statement now.

“That’s what I thought.” Garibaldi finished his drink.

Kitt knew he shouldn’t ask anymore questions. He didn’t want to draw more attention to his background if he could help it, but there were still things he needed to know. “Where exactly in Brown Sector did you find me?”

“Section 57. That’s right in the middle of the Lurker trading zone. I’ll scout around there. I don’t think the trail would be too far away.”

Kitt marked the section down in his memory banks. Something told him it was important.

“The Lurkers are the illegal population of Babylon 5.” Garibaldi continued as he walked out of the kitchen. “Sad bit of folks, but what’re you going to do?”

“I don’t know, kick them off?” Kitt conjectured.

“I wish, believe me, but they don’t have anywhere else to go. No one’s going to pay for their ticket. And they’re on this station, so that means they’re my people to protect too.”

For a moment, Kitt thought he heard another voice saying that sentence, and he didn’t want to acknowledge who the other voice belonged to. It had been a good morning so far and he didn’t want to ruin it.

“Good luck, Garibaldi.” Kitt wished him as he went for the door.

“Thanks.” 

Garibaldi hit the button and the door slid open. It shut tight behind him.

Down Below was a mess of unfinished paneling, people, and the garbage those said people had stripped from said paneling. This part of Brown Sector had been unfinished since the station was first brought online, due to budget constraints, but now the people it housed were cannibalizing its parts for the bit of money they needed to get by.

Garibaldi got plenty of looks from the people he passed. The Lurkers here knew his face. They knew that when he was down here, something was about to go down. They weren’t wrong. The attitudes of people could be real predictors of how a whole case could turn out. Ask a dozen religious aliens how to explain it and they could give you a dozen different explanations. Garibaldi didn’t have any of those beliefs, so he just called it ‘people sense’.

Section 57 was a particularly out-of-the-way spot. It was a back alley of the back alley. The security comm here was just about the only thing functioning, and even it was in a sorry state compared to one in, say Red or Green Sector. When he had first become Security Chief, Garibaldi had insisted that all security comms on each station level be in working order. Who knew when it could help catch a perp or if it might save life?

Sure enough, it paid off in Section 57.

Kiara had given him a detailed description of the area her team had found Kitt in. She compared the location to a junk pile of assorted antique things, although she and her team had confiscated the whole mess after the traces of explosives were found. But the physical location remained. It was as good of a place to start as any.

The corner that the pile had once taken residence in was a rickety-looking area. In the very back he noticed a spot of exposed wiring. He didn’t get any closer, instead picking up a piece of scrap metal off the ground and chucking it forward.

A spark of electricity snapped to the metal chunk with an audible crack. Yup, live wire.

So the pile had truly been a trash heap, then. No poor sucker, not even the most desperate of Lurkers, would ever conduct a trade in a location like this. 

An honest trade, that was. It would be perfect if you were looking to avoid the attention of any nearby Lurkers.

It was time to ask the locals. Odds were one of the Lurkers must have seen who came down here to conduct this trade.

He made his way to Sections 58 and 59. People were huddled up on either side of the corridors, wrapped in blankets and hiding underneath tarps. Women, children, men, and others. One tarp looked like it had a mini shop set up, although the owner had withdrawn all of his goods when he saw Garibaldi walk by.

One older woman sat out further away from her tarp. She gave Garibaldi a once-over but didn’t move to retreat.

“Hey,” he approached her. “Can I ask you some questions? No one’s in trouble, just need your help.”

“Sure, officer.” The woman replied.

“Last week, did you see any suspicious looking folk go into Section 57?”

The lady laughed. “No one goes into 57. We’re not that stupid, unlike you top-siders.”

“I know, that’s why I asked. Have you seen anyone who didn’t look like they belonged down here?”

“My nephew saw a few young men pass through 56. He said it looked like they were heading towards 57. He didn’t see them come out again. Everyone just assumed they had died.” The woman recalled. “And then a day later, your cops came down. We thought you were dealing with the bodies.”

“No one died.” Garibaldi replied. “Thank you for the information. Can I speak with your nephew?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Not unless you get him medical treatment. He’s got a bad lung, that boy. You top-siders have all the doctors you could ever want. Get him in and I’ll let you talk to him.” The woman glared.

“Fine, you’ve got a deal.” 

He escorted the woman and the boy to Medlab. The place was surprisingly peaceful, although he knew the urgent care department ramped up in the later hours of the day. Dr. Franklin gave him a surprised look when they arrived.

“Hey, doc, what could you do about an asthma treatment for these people?” Garibaldi gestured.

“Who are they?” The doctor asked.

“People in need of your talents. Don’t worry, the security budget’s paying.” Garibaldi replied.

Dr. Franklin shrugged. “Alright. Get who I’m working on up onto the table.”

The boy clambered up on the table and Dr. Franklin got to work with his diagnostic scanner. The doctor gave a little hum as he worked.

After a few question-and-answers with both the kid and the woman, the appointment was over and the boy was now carrying a few sets of inhalers.

“Use the orange one daily. It’ll help get rid of the asthma for good. Use the red one in emergencies.” Dr. Franklin had instructed.

The woman nodded and said a brief thanks before they all left, heading back down Down Below.

“So, about your end of the deal.” Garibaldi asked once they returned.

The woman pulled her nephew closer.

“Just a few questions. You said you saw some men pass through Section 56, right?” Garibaldi asked the boy.

“Yes.”

“What did they look like? Did any of them look funny or weird?”

“One had a uniform like yours.” The kid pointed at him. “The rest wore all black, including hoods. They carried a bag between them.”

“Can you tell me what the uniformed man looked like?” Garibaldi kept his voice calm.

“It was dark. It’s always dark in 56. Um. . .” The kid stared off for a moment. “Dark hair? Pale skin?”

“Do you remember how tall he was?”

“He was kinda average.”

“Thanks, pal.” Garibaldi nodded. “You’ve really helped me today.”

The kid smiled. The woman nodded.

Garibaldi waved a brief goodbye before heading back towards Section 57. Once he was out of view of the two, he let his face turn into a scowl. One of his own men, parading about in uniform, even! At least he had a lead now. The boy’s description would help Kiara’s investigation narrow down the suspects. 

Plus, he got to help someone today. That was at least one good thing about today-

A scream echoed down the hallway leading from Section 58. Garibaldi turned around and sprinted back.

The woman had been pushed over. The kid was being held by a group of four people dressed head-to-toe in black. Garibaldi drew his laser pistol.

“Put the kid down!” He shouted.

The figures in black dropped the child. They stopped in place.

“Back away. Put your hands on the wall.” He commanded again.

The figures didn’t move.

“I said-”

Someone came up from behind. Garibaldi didn’t get the chance to turn around before he was hit on the back of the head with something hard and heavy. As he fell to the ground, everything went black.

It was 2000 hours and Garibaldi was nowhere to be seen. 

Kitt had rerouted all power to his scanners but he could only scan the immediate hallway outside. At the very end of his scans was the elevator, but it hadn’t moved for three hours. No one had passed by within his scanner range during that time, either. 

Any moment now, Kitt told himself. Any moment and Garibaldi would open the door, flop himself down on the couch, and apologize for being late. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrible had happened. No, not a ‘feeling’, for he didn’t get such feelings, more like. . . an intuitive guess based on all the odds and evidence.

He tried to calm the programs that were blaring in alarm. Any moment now. No need to get upset over it. 

Moments turned into minutes. Soon it was 2030 hours.

Garibaldi had to be missing!

No, that was ridiculous. He was just late from work.

. . . investigative police work on a case Kitt had deliberately avoided collecting any information on.

His programs told him to reach out to Micheal’s commlink, so he did, before realizing his mistake. He shoved those instructions out of the way. 

Kitt knew Garibaldi had a commlink. Okay, that was a start. However, he had no connection to that commlink, nor would he ever would, due to the absence of his wireless unit. So there was no way to contact the man directly and figure out what was going on.

He was helpless. Completely and utterly. Any useful ability he might have had was non-functioning or non-applicable. Garibaldi could be dead and gone or dying. . . and it would be all his fault.

He was tempted to deactivate right then and there. Why delay the inevitable? However, something tugged at his processor. It was his primary and secondary protocols. Protect and serve .

They sent him spiraling through his memory banks again. Memories of blocking bullets, of spinning tires, of last-minute rescues. Micheal’s frightened face turning into a relieved smile.

For a moment he could feel the body of the Trans Am connected to him again. His tires ran smooth along the asphalt and his suspension rocked slightly with Micheal’s movements. Micheal was blasting that awful music of his.

His driver reached forward and paused the music. “What’s the matter, pal?”

Kitt didn’t know how to respond.

The scene morphed. Now Kitt was disconnected from his body again and his CPU was sitting in the passenger seat. Micheal was driving another car.

“You’re more than just silicon and wires. You’re my buddy. My partner. Kitt, you’re one of a kind.” 

“But Micheal, I’m helpless!” Kitt cried. “I failed. I couldn’t protect you and now Garibaldi is gone, too.”

“The moment you fail is the moment you give up. Don’t forget that, Kitt.”

Kitt awoke. The image of Garibaldi’s empty quarters greeted his visual sensors once more. He scrambled to check his diagnostics. His CPU had crashed and his baseline programs had initiated a hard reboot. 

He waited until his fans calmed and the unbearable heat faded away. His processor became clear again.

He couldn’t give up. What were his options? 

Kitt eyed the computer across the room. He himself had no connections to the station at large, but this thing did. All he had to do was figure out how.

“Computer,” he started, “contact Security Chief Garibaldi.”

“Input: not recognized.” The computer spat out in response.

“Fine! Computer, contact Security Chief Michael Garibaldi.”

“Input: not recognized.”

“Computer, are you capable of calling anyone?”

There was a pause, and Kitt could practically hear the whirring of processes going on behind the computer screen before it replied. “BabCom can initiate a call to any other Babcom unit onboard the Babylon 5 station.”

“Great!” Kitt snapped. “Call BabCom unit in Brown Sector, Section 57!”

“I’m sorry. There is no BabCom unit corresponding to: ‘Brown Sector, Section 57’.”

“What do you mean? Garibaldi is down there. Why can’t you access his comm?”

“I’m sorry. There is no BabCom unit corresponding to: ‘access his comm’.”

“Cancel.”

The computer shut up. If Kitt had arms he would have thrown the nearest glass at the smug screen by now. No, there was no time to get annoyed. Think, think. . .

This room had a Babcom unit. Garibaldi was a security officer, so it made sense that he would have a part of the computer network in his room. What about anyone else?

“Computer, contact Commander Jeffrey Sinclair.”

There was another pause. Kitt couldn’t help but think in circles about what he was to say to the Commander. ‘Help, Garibaldi hasn’t come home yet and I’m scared?’

“Commander Jeffrey Sinclair has turned on ‘do not disturb’. Canceling your call.” The computer spoke again.

“This isn’t a social call! It’s an emergency!” Kitt shouted.

“Voice: not recognized. No emergency declared.”

Panic rose within him. His CPU began activating things he hadn’t needed to process in a long time- velocity, speed, even the program for Turboboost. All of these things that had saved him in previous emergencies, but now none of them were useful. Focus, focus.

“Computer, I’m not done with you.” He pressed on.

“Query?”

“Contact someone in command. Anyone in command, it doesn’t matter who. Get me through to someone.”

“Input: not recognized.”

“Contact the second in command.”

“No results found for ‘second in command’.”

Kitt wracked his databases for more potential ranks. “Call the sergeant.”

“No results found for-”

“Call the captain!”

“No results found for-”

“Call the lieutenant!”

There was a pause. A pause that lasted only a few seconds according to his chronometer, but an eternity to his every other system.

“Calling Lieutenant Commander Susan Ivanova. . .”

The screen flickered, before the ‘BabCom’ logo disappeared, revealing a woman on the other end of the screen. This woman had a sharp face and long brown hair, and she looked very angry.

“Garibaldi, what is it? I just got off duty. Don’t tell me: you want another report on the ‘smugglers’?” She snapped.

Kitt processor almost froze, but he forced himself to speak. “Help, it’s an emergency.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Garibaldi?”

“This isn’t Garibaldi but a friend of his. I have reason to suspect that he may be in serious danger and I need your help to find him.” Kitt continued. 

“Who are you? What are you doing in Garibaldi’s quarters? Why aren’t you showing your face?”

“None of that is important right now! Garibaldi is missing and I need your help!” Kitt was shouting now.

Many emotions flashed through the Lieutenant’s face. She shifted through them so quickly Kitt didn’t have time to analyze them all. Her expression settled on one he could only describe as skepticism.

She turned away from the camera and held up the back of her hand to her mouth. There was a silver glint of another commlink. “Ivanova to Garibaldi. Someone’s gotten into your room.”

The commlink beeped, but there was no response from the other side. Her mouth fell open, betraying her worry. She tried the comm again, and again, to no success.

She put her hand down and turned back to the camera. She stared into the room, her eyes scanning back and forth. 

“Please, Ms. Ivanova. You need to send someone to find him.” Kitt pleaded.

“I’ll contact the security team and see what they have to say.” She replied.

“Wait! Garibaldi informed me this morning that he was to go prying around Brown Sector Section 57. He can’t be too far from there.” Kitt added.

She nodded. “Alright. But after this, you’re going to tell me who you are and how the hell you got into that room.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The computer screen flickered and Lieutenant Ivanova disappeared, having been replaced by the ‘BabCom’ screen once more.

With her gone, there was nothing for Kitt to do except disappear back into the depths of his processor, for he was nothing more than the most useless machine in the world.

Chapter Text

“. . . look who’s finally waking up. Hi, boss.”

Garibaldi groaned as the darkness receded from his vision. His shoulders burned and his hands were numb. It took him some time for the feeling of cuffs to register around his wrists. He was hanging against a wall. His head ached.

He blinked. Ahead of him was a face. More importantly, though, there was a uniform. A green one.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t be out the whole time. My friends here wanted to kill you, but I told them if they killed you the whole station would be up in arms looking for you.” The face continued.

Dark hair, pale skin, green uniform. The description matched up perfectly.

“Luckily for us, we both know that things go missing in this ‘Down Below’ all the time.” The man held up Garibaldi’s commlink.

“Let me go.” Garibaldi muttered. His throat was dry and the words came out sandy.

“You’re funny. You always had a good sense of humor.”

The voice was familiar but Garibaldi couldn’t match the face to it, not when it hurt to think too hard. He knew every single one of his security team, but most of the interviews were many months ago and that was the most he ever interacted with some of them. Garibaldi scanned the man’s uniform, but of course, the name badge was gone.

“This uniform is awful convenient. People let you go wherever you need and they never question why.” The man paced. “Perk of the job, I guess.”

“What do you want from me?” Garibaldi spat.

“I already have what I want. My friends just need a few days of peace and quiet without somebody snooping around in their business.”

“You’re making a mistake, pal. They’re gonna find me. If you let me go I’ll tell them that you found me and clear you of all charges.” Garibaldi looked the man in the eye.

It was a lie, of course, but he was a pretty damn good liar when he needed to be.

“No thanks. My friends are already behind schedule because of you. No need to complicate things.”

Behind schedule. These punks must have been waiting for him to come down to Brown Sector!

“Who are these friends of yours?” Garibaldi asked.

“Why would I tell you? Looking for some friends of your own?” The man laughed. “It’s not a secret that all you have are enemies.”

The statement made Garibaldi’s blood boil. He was no social butterfly, sure, but the Commander and the Lieutenant and all the heads of the security team were people he knew would care if he was missing. Not to mention Kitt. . . who probably thought that he had abandoned him for good.

“And if you did have friends, too bad none of them know you’re down here.”

Garibaldi swallowed. He hadn’t written his morning report, opting to skip it to get investigating right away. His heads of security were busy with the investigation into customs. The Commander had an all-day negotiation today and Ivanova was always busy.

He felt a pang of guilt when he thought of Kitt. He was probably going through some sort of processor meltdown right now. Garibaldi closed his eyes and sent a mental apology to the computer.

 Garibaldi opened his eyes again and tried to look around past the man. Everything was gray and rickety, so it was obvious he was still Down Below. The only question was the section. If he could get out of these chains and run, where would he go?

“You’re being no fun. I hoped you would talk more.” His captor said.

“Get me off this wall and I’ll show you ‘fun’.” Garibaldi hissed.

“No thanks. The next shift of this watch will be here in about half an hour. I don’t want to leave him nothing but a bloody pulp to talk to.”

Garibaldi grit his teeth, ready to challenge the man, but calmed down. Shifts? So only one person at a time was coming to watch him. He could take anyone in a one-on-one fight, even when he was injured like this. Maybe he still had a chance of escape.

The only problem would be the chains around his wrists and the way the world spun when he looked up too fast.

Chains first. He strained his eyes to the corners of his vision. The cuffs on his wrists were solid metal with no visible clasp. The chains that connected them to the wall were thick and heavy. The cuffs were tight- his hands were numb and tingly.

“Hey, what kinda cuffs are these?” He asked.

“Ones locked with this key.” His captor reached into his pocket and pulled out a little silvery thing. “You want it?”

“Sure.” Garibaldi challenged.

The man threw the key on the ground by his feet. Immediately, Garibaldi scrambled to step on it and drag it closer, but the thing was just out of reach. He strained, the chains creaking as he pulled against them.

After a few minutes, the man picked up the key again and giggled. “How sad.”

Wait, that giggle! Garibaldi knew that giggle. One of the new recruits to Customs had laughed at every one of his jokes during the interview. This had to be him. Simon. . . Simon something. Holt? Howard? His brain was so foggy.

There was a pattering of footsteps somewhere off in the distance. Was it just his imagination? No, because his captor roused at the noise, too.

“Is the shift change coming so soon?” Simon checked his watch.

There were too many footsteps for that. Someone else was nearby. It was now or never. 

“Help!” Garibaldi screamed. “Help! Security!”

His captor stomped forward and clamped a hand over his mouth. With another hand, he fished out a laser pistol and held it to Garibaldi’s head. 

“You know what? I might just kill you for that.”

The pattering of footsteps started coming closer and Garibaldi recognized the sound of boots. Simon pressed the barrel into his temple and he could feel the vibration as it charged to lethal force.

A team of green uniforms burst into the corridor, with Kiara at the lead. She had her pistol out and pointed it at Simon.

“Not another step or I’ll blow his brains out!” Simon shouted. 

Kiara and her team stopped. That is, before Garibaldi jerked his knee up into Simon’s crotch. The man doubled over and Kiara landed the perfect stun shot on his back.

As he collapsed to the ground, Garibaldi looked to his rescuers. “Kiara! Boy, am I glad to see you.”

“As I am you, Chief.” She replied. 

Another member of the security team kicked Simon’s body over and fished through his pockets. She pulled out the silver key and Garibaldi’s comm.

Kiara took the key and got to work undoing his cuffs. Garibaldi fell onto his knees. Feeling returned to his hands and wiggled his fingers.

“Thank goodness you shouted. Otherwise we might have walked right past you.” Kiara offered a hand.

He took it. “I heard you walking first. The security-issued boots aren’t so bad after all.”

She pulled him to his feet, and the motion sent vertigo shooting through him.

“Let’s get you to Medlab.” She grabbed his arm and put it over her shoulder.

“The perp. . . get the perp.” Garibaldi gestured.

“Don’t worry, we got him.” One of the other members of the security team assured.

With Kiara’s help, he limped out of Brown Sector. When they reached the Medlab, he collapsed onto the bed Dr. Franklin had ready for him.

His eyes fluttered open. The lights were bright, a comforting contrast from the dimness of Down Below. His head didn’t hurt anymore, although the rest of his body still ached.

“Michael, you’re awake.”

Garibaldi turned his head to see the Commander looking down at him. He smiled. “Hey Jeff.”

“Quite a night you had.” Sinclair returned the smile. “Tell us about what happened.”

“What were you doing down in Brown Sector?”

Garibaldi turned his head to the other direction to see Ivanova standing at the other side of his bed. Her arms were crossed and her mouth was drawn into a thin line.

“I was investigating a lead.” Garibaldi replied. “Things went south. Got caught off guard.”

“That’s the understatement of the century. Why did you bring none of your team with you? Why didn’t you inform any of us where you were going?” Ivanova asked. 

“I lost track of it-”

“Do you have a death wish?” She interrupted. 

“Susan, go easy on him.” Sinclair gestured.

She gave a pointed huff and looked away.

Sinclair looked back at Garibaldi. “She has a point, though, and there’s a reason she’s so upset. If she hadn’t thought to check up on you, you would still be down there.”

“It wasn’t-” Ivanova started, before something got caught in her throat. She swallowed. “It wasn’t even my idea. That’s the worst part.”

“Then who’s idea was it?” Sinclair raised an eyebrow.

She closed her eyes. “You’re not going to believe me, but something initiated a call from Garibaldi’s quarters.”

“Kitt.” Garibaldi whispered.

“What?”

“Kitt! Oh my god, I need to get back to him.” Garibaldi leaned up out of bed, urging his body to move. 

“Easy, Michael.” Sinclair put a hand on his chest, stopping his momentum. “Dr. Franklin hasn’t released you yet.”

“I left him alone. I need to tell him I’m okay.”

“Kitt will be alright, but you need to rest. I’ll check on him on my way back to work. How does that sound?” Sinclair replied.

“This is all very touching, but who the hell is ‘Kitt’?” Ivanova shifted her gaze between the two.

Garibaldi froze. He sank back down into the mattress. He glanced at the Commander and bit his lip.

“Kitt is a friend of Michael’s that’s staying in his quarters.” Sinclair said.

“I hope you know that’s a terrible lie, Commander. Try again.” Ivanova replied. 

“It’s true.” Garibaldi added. “Kitt was the one who called you. He’s the only one I told about going down to Brown Sector.”

“But there was no one in your room when I answered the call. I’m sure of it.” She said.

“Yes, there was. He was sitting on the back table-”

“I have a better idea.” Sinclair cut in. “At the end of today, why don’t we all meet in your quarters, Michael? We can hang out, chat, and have proper introductions.”

Ivanova gave a dubious look. “Very well. If that’s all, then, I’ll be getting back to work.”

She turned and walked away from the bedside. Garibaldi heard the Medlab door open and shut behind her.

“Don’t mind her. This incident rattled her more than she let on.” Sinclair said.

“I don’t blame her.” He replied.

“I think there’s a clear lesson to be learned here. Am I right, Chief?”

Garibaldi looked at the Commander. While the rest of his face was serene, his eyes were fraught with worry. It was clear Ivanova wasn’t the only one who was rattled.

“Yes, sir. I’ll make sure to submit the morning report from now on.” Garibaldi replied.

“ Every time.” 

“Yes sir.”

Sinclair looked away. There were no words to fill the gap.

Suddenly the Commander came back to life. He put a hand on Garibaldi’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you to rest now. I’ll stop by your quarters on my way back.”

Garibaldi nodded, and Sinclair left.

Kitt detected motion on the other end of the door leading into the room. They said a few words that sounded like commands and the door opened.

However, it was not Garibaldi who stepped through, but the Commander. Kitt scanned every part of him for clues. His expression was neutrally pleasant and there was a lack of any tension in his body.

“Hello, Kitt.” Sinclair’s warm voice greeted.

“How is Garibaldi? Is he alright? Were you able to find him?” 

“Yes, he’s alright. He’s recuperating in Medlab now- nothing worse than a few bruises and a concussion, but he’s very tired.” 

The relief was palpable. Kitt didn’t know how to describe it, but everything lightened, as if some great burden on his frame had been lifted. It was something with no logical explanation and he knew better than to question it.

“I have to thank you. Without your help, he’d be much worse off.” Sinclair continued.

“Don’t mention it.”

Something in the Commander’s expression flickered. The man folded his hands together behind his back. He lingered around the door, his gaze shifting over the room and all of its objects.

“I mean it, Kitt. If you hadn’t reached out, something far worse would have befallen him. For that I owe you more than I could ever repay.” He added quietly.

Kitt refused to linger on that thought. “Just doing my part, Commander.”

“Then keep doing it as well as you can. Michael needs a friend like you. Susan and I try our best, but there’s only so much we can do.” Sinclair said.

Michael.

“Yes, Commander.”

Sinclair turned around and pressed the button beside the door and the door slid open. 

“Commander?” Kitt asked before he could step outside.

“Yes?”

“When will he be back?”

“Actually, he, Susan, and I planned to stop by after duty today. There’s some things we’d like to discuss, with you included.” Sinclair looked back. “I’m planning on around 1800 hours. Care to join?”

“Ha ha, very funny. Of course I’ll be here. I’ll be counting down the minutes until your arrival.” Kitt replied.

The Commander smiled before stepping out of the room. The nerve of that man! Why, if Kitt were mobile again, he’d show him just how much he ‘cared to join’. But alas, his tires were nowhere to be found.

Now there was nothing left to do but actually count down the minutes. And most decidedly avoid the idea of what might have happened to Garibaldi if things hadn’t happened just perfectly. 

But try as he might, his programs urged him to compile a mission report and he was too overwhelmed to fight it. Besides, it would be a good idea to fully analyze all that had happened in the past 24 hours to bring up to both the Commander and Garibaldi later today.

He got to work.

Chapter Text

Garibaldi walked down the familiar halls of Blue Sector, but despite being home he couldn’t shake his nerves. He was worried about Kitt. More specifically, he was worried about Ivanova worrying about Kitt.

Calling Ivanova anything other than his friend would be an insult- ever since they had begun working together on Babylon 5, the two had found allies in each other -but out of the three of them, she was by far the most ‘true-blue’ Earth Alliance soldier. Garibaldi didn’t care much for Earth Alliance since the war, and Sinclair had trust issues relating to another matter, but for Ivanova, the Alliance had been her escape. 

Since day one she had thrown herself into her work with unmatched zeal. Saying she was ‘by the book’ would be a vast oversimplification. It was more like she bent the book to her will and brandished it as her weapon against all who threatened to upend the delicate peace onboard the station. She knew the laws because she had to.

And everything today depended on how well she knew about one old A.I. Sentience Act.

It was 1800 hours already. He didn’t mean to be late, but Dr. Franklin had refused to let him out any earlier. The good doctor had insisted on fully healing his concussion before he left, as if he wouldn’t be able to nurse a headache for a few hours, but he supposed Franklin did have his best interest at heart.

Garibaldi rounded the corner of the hall that led to his quarters. He nearly did a double take when he saw Sinclair and Ivanova standing outside of his door.

“Hi, Michael. We decided not to go in until you were here.” Sinclair greeted.

“Yes, something about ‘respect for privacy’ and all that.” Ivanova added with a smirk.

“Thanks.” Garibaldi gave the Commander a nod. “Actually, can I go change out of my uniform first? Just give me a few minutes.”

“No. Absolutely not. You are not allowed to go into your own quarters.” Ivanova replied. Garibaldi froze, before she broke out into a smile. 

He slid his card and entered his room, the door closing behind him.

“Garibaldi!”

Kitt’s voice was swimming with relief. His lights bounced in a gentle rhythm.

“Hey, Kitt. Good to see you.” Garibaldi smiled. 

“Thank goodness you’re alright.”

“Sorry to cut the reunion short, but I need to get changed. Did Sinclair tell you about-?”

“The meeting, yes. They’ve been standing outside your door for a few minutes now.”

Garibaldi didn’t ask how Kitt knew that. Instead, he went into his bedroom, not even bothering to shut the door before pulling off his uniform. He rubbed his sore shoulders a bit before sliding on a basic pair of pants and his third-favorite shirt.

He paused before going out again. Ivanova was on the other side of the door. As soon as it opened, there’d be no going back.

But. . . this was Ivanova he was talking about. His friend. How’s the worst she could react?

He strode out. He pressed the button for the door.

“Good evening, Chief. Can we come in?” Ivanova asked with an amused expression.

“Why, certainly, Lieutenant.” He replied, which got a laugh out of her.

He stepped aside and gestured in. She entered first, while Sinclair lingered behind. To Garibaldi’s surprise, she didn’t notice Kitt at all. She made her way to the couch and sat down with her back facing toward him.

“So, ready to explain this ghost in your room?” She asked.

“I take it you’re referring to me, Ms. Ivanova.”

She flinched and turned her head around to scan behind the couch. “Who’s there?”

“Me. On the table behind you. I’m the dashing black box with the red lights, you see.” Kitt said.

Well, good to know Kitt wasn’t shy.

“Susan, this is Kitt.” Garibaldi walked over and patted Kitt’s top.

Ivanova got up from the couch and approached the back table. She turned to Garibaldi and her mouth opened, but before she could speak, Kitt interjected.

“My full name is the Knight Industries Two Thousand. K.I.T.T. for short, but please, call me ‘Kitt’.”

“A computer?” She asked Garibaldi.

“Not just any computer, Ms. Ivanova. I’m certainly not comparable to that bucket of bolts you call ‘computer’.” Kitt continued. 

She gave Kitt many puzzled looks, before turning to Garibaldi once more. “Did you build it?”

“No, I found him.” He replied.

“Who built you, then?” She finally acknowledged Kitt.

“My creators and everyone associated with them have long since passed.” Kitt replied. Garibaldi could hear a hint of sorrow creeping into the computer’s voice.

“He’s a computer from the past.” Sinclair spoke up from behind. “He awakened on the station not knowing how he got here.”

“I decided to take him in. And good thing, too, right?” Garibaldi gave Kitt another pat.

Ivanova didn’t say anything. Sinclair came out from behind her and stood alongside Garibaldi, a quiet statement of solidarity.

“Commander, with all due respect. . . aren’t these sort of computers banned under international law?” Ivanova asked.

“Banned? ‘Banned’? Garibaldi, Commander Sinclair, what does she mean by ‘banned’?” Kitt said the word as if it offended him.

Garibaldi felt his face go pale. He had meant to tell Kitt eventually, but not here. Not now.

“Some old law about Artificial Intelligence. They’re supposed to be destroyed.” Ivanova continued.

Kitt’s lights bobbed, but he said nothing.

“Ivanova, please. Consider what you’re doing.” Sinclair stepped out to meet her.

She pushed him aside and addressed Kitt directly. “I take it you don’t like that idea, now do you?”

“Hardly.” Kitt replied.

“Would you have helped save Garibaldi if you had known that?” Ivanova asked.

“Yes! Without hesitation! I’m insulted that you would insinuate otherwise.” Kitt snapped.

There was a tense moment of silence as Kitt’s declaration settled into the walls of the room. Ivanova’s posture relaxed.

“I see you have a good temper.” She gave a little laugh. She gave a quick glance to Garibaldi. “I take it he keeps you around for your demeanor?”

“To be frank, I’m not sure why he keeps me around, but whatever it is I’m grateful.” Kitt replied, his tone lightening.

“Ha! Pragmatic. I like you already.” She smiled.

“I’m a computer, Ms. Ivanova. It’s my job.”

Ivanova laughed again. Only now did Garibaldi allow his shoulders to sink forward. He took a deep breath and realized that his heart was racing.

“What’s the matter, Michael? Were you worried I was going to call Earth Central right here and now?” Ivanova looked over at him.

Garibaldi shrugged. “I don’t know. I was practically ready to grab him and run.”

“Run where?” Sinclair asked.

“Somewhere. Like I said, I don’t know.”

“So, Susan,” the Commander got back on track, “I take it this means you won’t be reporting this to any higher authority?”

“Of course. What Earth Alliance and Earth Central don’t know can’t hurt them. And besides. . .” She walked closer to Kitt. “You saved one of our own yesterday. If that doesn’t make you a part of this station, I don’t know what will.”

“Thank you, Ms. Ivanova.” Kitt replied, his voice warm.

“Drop the ‘Ms’, would you? Only my father called me ‘Ms’.” She added.

“What would you prefer to be called?”

“What would I prefer to be called?” Her lips twitched in amusement as she thought over it for a moment. 

“Oh boy.” Garibaldi said.

“Call me: ‘the greatest lieutenant commander, master of the universe’.” She replied, speaking every word with a straight face.

Garibaldi couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Sinclair added a few chuckles of his own.

“You can’t be serious.” Kitt grumbled.

“I absolutely am.” She replied.

“Oh, brother. Fine, ‘greatest lieutenant commander, master of the universe’.”

“It’s good to hear someone finally acknowledge it.” Ivanova nodded proudly.

Garibaldi’s stomach hurt from trying to contain his laughter. He knew he should feel sorry for Kitt, but man, that was good.

“Don’t laugh! That will only encourage her.” Kitt scolded him.

That was when Sinclair lost it. His giggle filled the room and he had to lean against a wall to recover.

“Is there not a shred of pity among you?” Kitt asked.

Ivanova patted the top of Kitt’s case. “Don’t worry, I’m here.”

“Does that mean you revoke your-”

“Oh no, absolutely not. You keep calling me that. Every time.” She said with a devilish grin.

Garibaldi’s sympathy finally won over. “Just call her ‘Ivanova’, Kitt.”

“You’re no fun.” She stepped away from Kitt. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ivanova.” Kitt put cheeky emphasis on her name, before growing more reserved. “Thank you for helping me check in on Garibaldi yesterday.”

The humorous mood in the room dissipated. Ivanova’s face returned to its usual sternness.

“We really should be thanking you. You were the one who made me aware of the situation.” She said quietly. 

“This is all my fault. I didn’t tell anyone else where I was going. That’s on me.” Garibaldi said.

Ivanova turned to him and put her hands on her hips. “While it might be ‘on you’, that doesn’t cancel out the fact that neither Jeff nor I thought to check up on you. If you had not miraculously found Kitt onboard, the fact is you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“It’s part of the job description. You guys can’t be expected to babysit me. You two have an entire station to run. I don’t blame you.” Garibaldi replied.

“Michael, we’re your friends, and we care about your well-being.” Sinclair put on his ‘commander’ voice. 

This was turning into a full-on intervention and Garibaldi couldn’t say he liked it. “I know. I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

The Commander began to pace. “Perhaps instead of investigating on your own, you should take a more broader approach. Sending out more security teams, staying in security central-”

“You’re a damned hypocrite, Jeff!” Garibaldi jabbed a finger at him. “As if you don’t go throwing yourself first-hand into every major crisis aboard this station. We talked about this!”

“Just because I do it doesn’t mean you should!” Sinclair snapped in response. 

“Chief! Commander! Relax.” Ivanova stepped in between the two.

“This is too important.” Sinclair waved her out of the way.

“I won’t let you keep me from doing my job!” Garibaldi shouted.

“You can’t do your job if you’re dead.”

“I can’t do my job if I don’t take any risks!”

“Then-”

“ Commander , if I may have a word?”

All three of them turned to face Kitt again.

Sinclair took a deep breath. “What is it, Kitt?”

“I have analyzed the events from yesterday evening and have written a mission report. I noticed many things that could have been improved. Would you like to hear them?”

“Lay it on us.” Garibaldi nodded.

“During the crisis yesterday, it took me 30 minutes to verify Garibaldi was missing. After that, it took me almost another 30 minutes to effectively reach out to someone else in the command structure.” Kitt began. “This time gap is, frankly, appalling.”

Ivanova nodded. Sinclair didn’t react. Garibaldi waited for him to finish.

“Now, if I had possessed a communications link to Garibaldi’s comm, I estimate that time would have been halved. If I possessed a link to the entire comm system, the time would have been quartered.”

“You’re asking to have access into Babylon 5’s network.” Sinclair said.

“Not the entire network- just the communications channels.”

Sinclair’s face didn’t show any emotion. Garibaldi knew this trick- he was putting on a mask while he figured out the best way to refuse the request. 

As much as he liked Kitt, and boy, was he sure glad Kitt was around, allowing the A.I. access into the station was something that he couldn’t authorize without thought. It made all of them nervous- even Ivanova, who found an excuse to study the decorations on the wall. 

“Allowing you onboard the station is one thing, but allowing you in the system is a whole other thing entirely.” Garibaldi said what everyone was thinking.

Kitt’s lights dimmed and became smaller in size.

“We’re sorry, Kitt, but Garibaldi is correct.” Sinclair added with a solemn nod.

“Just a minute, Commander. Were you not just concerned with Garibaldi’s safety? And did you not say to me earlier that you and Ivanova tried your best but there was only so much in your power that you could do?” Kitt’s tone grew sharper. “I am offering to do my part to keep Garibaldi safe. I can’t do that if I have no way to contact him.”

“He has a point.” Ivanova said.

“Yes, but. . .”

Garibaldi knew he had to say something, but the question was what. Part of him wanted to rebuke Kitt, saying he could take care of himself, but deep down he knew that wasn’t true, and the fact ate away at him like acid. Without Kitt he wouldn’t be standing here right now. And Kitt. . . Kitt had already lost a partner. He had come close to losing another last night.

Garibaldi’s sore shoulders and bruised wrists were a less-than-pleasant reminder.

If the Commander was putting his foot down on the issue, though, there was nothing he could do. Kitt’s continued existence on board Babylon 5 was entirely dependent on Sinclair’s acceptance of it. But Kitt needed more than to just ‘exist’, otherwise the conversation in the techlab that fateful night would have all been a sham.

“What if we just gave him access to my comm and my comm only?” Garibaldi proposed. “We could do a direct link. That way he wouldn’t have access to anything else.”

Sinclair put his hand on his chin. He turned to Ivanova. “Would that work?”

“Yes, but not well. Without being connected to the station’s communications network, there’ll be dead spots all over.” She replied.

“I’ll take it, Commander.” Kitt said.

Garibaldi looked to Kitt. The computer’s lights had brightened again. Sinclair, meanwhile, had dropped his mask. A faint smile returned to his face.

“Very well, Kitt. I’ll send a request to techlab one. They can build a connection device to plug into you.” He nodded.

“As long as I don’t have to go back there. Your technicians have very little understanding of ‘personal boundaries’.” Kitt scoffed.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let them near you.” Garibaldi replied.

“Then I believe this concludes our gathering today.” Sinclair brought on his authoritative voice again. 

“Very diplomatic of you to say, Commander.” Ivanova teased.

“Sorry. Force of habit.” He smiled sheepishly.

“It is getting late. And these are my quarters. So unless you’re planning on having a sleepover-” 

“Absolutely not, Chief. I don’t want to imagine the last time you cleaned your floor.” Ivanova interrupted.

“What? I clean it often enough.”

“Right. Is that why you’re wearing shoes in your own room?”

“Okay, you got me.”

There was a shared bit of laughter, before Sinclair made his way towards the door. Ivanova did not follow, instead circling back around to Kitt’s table.

“Goodbye, Kitt. Take care of our local Security Chief for me, would you?” She gestured.

“Of course, Ivanova. It’s the least I can do.” Kitt promised.

Sinclair gave a wave from the door, but said nothing. He pressed the button to open it and left. Ivanova followed shortly after.

The door shut behind them. Garibaldi waited a few beats, before going to the kitchen and filling up a glass of water. He sat at the table, facing Kitt.

However, Kitt didn’t seem to mind the silence.

The rest of the evening was quiet. Kitt watched as Garibaldi spent the evening. The man had sat down to watch some television show of nondescript nature. When the evening grew late, Garibaldi turned the TV off and shuffled into his bedroom behind the glass.

Kitt was about to break the silence and call out ‘good night’, as he always did, but Garibaldi came back out in his pajamas.

“You haven’t said a word all evening. Everything alright?”

“I haven’t said a word? You’re the one who hasn’t said anything.” Kitt replied.

“Did Ivanova rattle you?” Garibaldi asked. “She tends to do that to most of the people she meets.”

“No, in fact, considering the circumstances of my arrival, she was quite reasonable.”

The Lieutenant Commander had the most peculiar and irritating sense of humor that Kitt sometimes understood perfectly and other times was completely mystified by. He could see why Garibaldi considered her a friend. 

“Okay, then what else could it be? You’re usually more chatty than this.” Garibaldi began fidgeting with his hands.

“There hasn’t been much to say.” Kitt suggested.

Garibaldi looked away. “It’s because of what happened yesterday, isn’t it?”

Kitt finally realized what he had been getting at. “Perhaps. We haven’t had a chance to ‘decompress’, as they say, from the experience. Immediately after you came back, we had the meeting.”

“That’s true.”

There was a pause.

Garibaldi blinked his eyes and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I should have told you earlier that my job was dangerous. I’m the Security Chief. I put myself in harm’s way a lot.”

Kitt didn’t understand the apology that came his way. Everything about Garibaldi’s posture and tone suggested remorse, but for what? Kitt analyzed the past few minutes, trying to draw out the cause. He went with the one he thought had the closest match. 

“Do you think I am upset with you?”

“How could you not be?” Garibaldi sputtered. “I know you already lost a friend, and that you don’t want to lose me too, and. . .”

Kitt let him trail off. Garibaldi still couldn’t look at him. 

“Garibaldi,” Kitt considered his next words carefully, “did you know I was employed in law enforcement in my previous life?”

“I did not.” His gaze returned.

“My partner and I would go out in the field. It was our job.” 

“Out in the field?” Garibaldi raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t be silly.” Kitt guessed what he was thinking. “I had a body back then, of course, that this microprocessor, my microprocessor, was housed in, but if I may continue- he and I worked together to solve cases that are not too dissimilar from your own.” 

Bits and pieces of memories brought themselves to the front of his awareness, before settling back down into his memory banks again. The whirl of tires, the police chases, the gunfire. The smiles, the tearful reunions, the tapping of a hand against his steering wheel.

“You two were catching perps and bringing them to justice?” Garibaldi asked.

“Oh, yes. It was quite dangerous. More often than not things ended in violence. In fact, it’s difficult to recall a case where things didn’t end in a fight.” Kitt mused.

Garibaldi nodded.

“I’ve seen my partner beaten up, shot at, stabbed at, even poisoned. Garibaldi, trust me when I say I am no stranger to the peril of your line of work.”

Garibaldi’s eyes glazed over, clearly lost in thought, before clearing again. He gave another nod. “That’s good to know. Thank you.”

“The only thing-” Kitt stopped himself. 

“Yeah?”

Here he was, spilling out what he had come to know as his ‘feelings’ all over again. It really was just like old times. The hum of the station around them, and the change in velocity from its spin; it was almost like sitting in the Semi all over again.

“What’s the matter, Kitt?”

And Micheal was leaning against his hood, needling him about what was on his processor.

“The only thing that I am upset about is the fact that I cannot protect you the same way I protected him.” Kitt muttered.

There was a hand- not on his hood, which no longer existed, but on the top of his microprocessor. 

“That’s okay. It’s okay.”

Kitt was content to lay under his touch for as long as he held it.

Chapter Text

The alarm for the morning had come on far too early. Garibaldi leapt out of bed, put on his uniform, and was getting breakfast right now. Just a nutrient bar and a glass of water. Yum.

“Off to work so early?” Kitt asked from across the room.

“You bet. I’ve already missed a day. Gotta get back on the case.”

“Alright, just don’t get into any trouble before I get linked to your comm!”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Garibaldi put his glass beside the sink and readjusted his badge.

“ Don’t go back down into Brown Sector without backup.”

“Definitely not the plan.”

“Be careful out there. That includes looking over your shoulder sometimes.”

“I got it, I got it.” Garibaldi turned around, shoving the last bite of the bar into his mouth. “Today’s just a desk day. I swear.”

“Famous last words.”

“Boy, you’re feeling cheeky today, aren’t you?”

“Can’t a computer have a little fun at your expense?”

Garibaldi chuckled. “I’ll see you after work today, you little punk.”

He didn’t feel as sore today as he did yesterday as he strode down the halls of the station to security central. He plopped himself down in his usual chair.

He checked the computer. One report was waiting in his inbox. It was from Kiara. Good.

Kiara and the rest of the team that had journeyed Down Below to find him had carried the unconscious perp straight to the brig. It was there that they took his ID and finished processing. His guess had been correct- it was Simon Holt, the three month-old recruit to Customs.

However, when Simon had woken up, he had refused to answer any questions and refused to say anything other than “My friends are coming, soon”.

Like that wasn’t ominous at all, especially because said ‘friends’ were still at large aboard the station.

The security sweep of the area Garibaldi had been imprisoned in revealed no other details than a table, a chair, the set of chains, and a bottle of gin by some low-end Earth brand. Garibaldi had seen Simon drinking similar stuff at a bar before all of this went down, so that was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to suggest a secret signal or clue.

So, all that effort and they weren’t any closer to unraveling the conspiracy behind all of this. Great.

He could try talking again to Simon personally later today; perhaps the intimidation of rank would persuade him to open up, but it was a long shot.

Garibaldi got to work adding his own little details to the account of his rescue and arrest of Simon. Most of the additions were what Simon had said about his ‘friends’. He had said they needed ‘a few days of peace and quiet’. 

Well, the first place to start would be to not give them that. However, there was a delicate balance- stir up things in the wrong place and it would only give them more cover to work behind.

He pressed the comm button for the command center. “Hey Ivanova, you got a minute?”

“What do you need?”

That meant that she really did not have a minute, but wanted him to continue anyway. 

“I’m going over the reports on our perp Simon. He worked customs down at Customs bay seven.”

“That bay services docks thirteen and fourteen.” Ivanova recalled.

“Yeah. Can you get me a list of all the ships that came through there a week ago, along with their cargo manifests?”

“Yes, I can, though expect a delay. I’m currently dealing with a snippy Centauri transport that absolutely refuses to dock at bay eleven. Says it’s bad luck for his vessel. I’ll need time for my headache to clear up before I can gather that list of yours.” Ivanova’s exasperation was audible.

“No problem. Good luck.”

“Thanks. Ivanova out.”

The next thing to do was to issue more security patrols, especially among the outermost walls of the station, and especially by the docking bays. These ‘friends’ had smuggled explosives on board, and if their goal was to put an end to the station they only needed a small explosion to break the pressure seal. Hit the right joints along the way, and Babylon 5 would have every molecule of air sucked out of it. If security could catch the perps in the act of setting up the charges, it would prevent a serious headache.

Something within Garibaldi doubted this crew of punks, whoever they were, didn’t just intend to stick dynamite to the hull and blow it. No, if they needed several days to accomplish their plan, then something much bigger was in store.

Thankfully, now that the internal investigation was over, his security force was back up to full strength. He could afford to spare the extra numbers to walk the perimeter.

With all the cards he could play currently set down on the table, there was nothing else to do but attend to the daily security needs of the station. There was always something-

As if on cue, his commlink rang. “Chief, we’ve got a situation down in sector 7. The Dark Star reported one of their girls missing.”

“On my way.”

Routine, routine. It had only been a matter of time before it caught up with him.

Kitt was in the middle of an auditory lesson about the history of the Mars Colony when the doorbell to Garibaldi’s quarters rang. He told the ‘Babcom’ computer to pause the program, and he scanned outside of the door.

It was a single person. A few more moments of scanning and Kitt recognized the shape of the Commander.

“Computer, please let Commander Sinclair in.”

“Query: not recognized.”

The doorbell rang again.

“Hmph. Come in, open, enter?”

The door slid open. Sinclair walked in. In his hands was some kind of device covered in a cloth. A quick scan showed a configuration similar to that of a wireless communicator.

“The comm to Garibaldi. Thank you.” Kitt said.

Sinclair looked puzzled, before he pulled off the cloth cover, presenting the device in full. “How did you know?”

“I have a multitude of short-range scanners, Commander. I hope you aren’t too offended. I’m still delighted by it, even if I ruined the surprise.” Kitt replied. 

“Good.” Sinclair smiled and came over to the table Kitt laid upon. He tucked the cloth into his pocket, before grasping the small device in one hand.

“I have many ports on the back end of my case.” Kitt directed.

“I know. The technicians informed me that they had to manufacture a special port for you. They called it a ‘USB’.”

“Yes! A USB. I take it there are no more USBs in this current age?”

“Not that I’m aware.”

Sinclair leaned over. His fingers tapped the Kitt’s back plate before he found what he was looking for. 

Kitt waited. “Are you having problems?”

“It’s not going in. I’m trying not to press too hard-”

“USB only goes in one way, Commander.”

“Ah, there it goes.”

Kitt felt the ping of the connection. He rushed into the new system, poking and prodding every corner of it. The little software he ran into was difficult to comprehend, but that was nothing he couldn’t solve on his own. 

“I must thank you again, Commander, for allowing me this privilege.” Kitt said.

“You’ve more than earned it. And, you don’t need to call me ‘Commander’. Just Sinclair will be fine.” The man nodded.

“Very well, Sinclair.”

Sinclair made his way to the door. “I’d stay around a while, but my lunch break is almost over. I need to get back to my post.”

“By all means.”

With a quick button press, he was gone.

Kitt dove back into the new unit attached to him. He got to work uncoding the software. The formatting was absurd, but at least it was still written in binary. That was a start.

After about an hour of fiddling and rewriting the code so it made more sense, the commlink connection was ready for testing.

Kitt hesitated. He could still detect the phantom ping of Micheal’s old commlink if he tried. However, that connection was long since dead. The new connection was humming with activity. There was only one way to find out if the other end would pick up or not.

Kitt activated it. He felt a sliver of his essence travel outwards, but to where, he had no idea. With time, he might be able to learn the sense of the station’s layout, but-

“Garibaldi here.”

Hearing a voice on the other side of the line instead of an empty response sent a rush through Kitt’s entire CPU. The stimulation brought to light just how deprived he’d been, sitting in Garibaldi’s quarters with nothing but his voice to interact with things.

“Greetings, Garibaldi. It’s Kitt.” He struggled to mask his excitement. “Sinclair brought the communication unit in today.” 

“That’s awesome, but could I call you back? I’m in the middle of something.”

“Don’t let me keep you. Goodbye.”

The call ended, but the thrill still remained. If Kitt still had his old body he could have turbo-boosted through the roof. It was so good, so right to be on the end of a communication line. It was as if a part of him that had been missing since he’d awakened was finally restored.

He eagerly awaited the return call. He didn’t dare do anything else in the period between. Minutes ticked by, even hours, but he waited with full attention. He didn’t want to miss it, after all.

Finally, there was a thrum from the new connection. Kitt activated it before the first ring had completed.

“Greetings, Garibaldi.”

“Hey, Kitt. I promised I’d call you back, but it seems time got away from me. I’m free now though. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. I was simply testing the new communication line. Everything is operating smoothly.”

“That’s good, that’s good.” Garibaldi replied, but he didn’t sound so sincere. Something was distracting him.

“Is there something the matter?” Kitt asked.

“No, nothing wrong. Just chewing on some information that just got in today. It’s about the case I’ve been working on.” Garibaldi’s frown was audible.

It took everything in Kitt’s power to not demand him to spill all of the details. “Do you wish to tell me what’s got you so troubled about it?”

“I suppose I could, but why would you wanna hear it?”

“Processing information is exactly the kind of thing I excel at. Making logical conclusions from a current dataset constitutes the majority of my intended functions. Please, let me help.” Kitt begged.

There was a pause, and something akin to the clicking of a computer came from the other end. Finally, Garibaldi spoke again. 

“Alright, I’ll lay it on you. I’m currently dealing with a list of 24 ships that came into two docking bays on September 10-12th. I’m trying to figure out which one you came on.”

“Go on.” Kitt said.

“Each ship’s got two cargo manifests, one from the captain and one from the first mate. However, everybody knows that the manifests are a joke. The ship captains lie all the time about what’s on their ship, and the first mates usually corroborate. As long as it doesn’t come off their ship, we can’t verify anything. So a lot of unlisted cargo comes through the docks. Usually, it doesn’t get into the station, but in the case of these two docks, anything might have.”

“Is there some sort of security or customs to check?” Kitt asked.

“Of course. But in Customs 7, we had a bad apple.”

“I don’t follow.”

“We had a leak. A traitor. He must have lied on the customs check on what exactly came through. But he only would have done so for one ship, the one you came on. That’s how you got inside without my security knowing.”

“I see. Have you already eliminated the ships that aren’t human in origin?” Kitt suggested.

“How do you know you came from a human source? That’s the problem. The techies said your memory banks are shot and you seem to agree. You think you came from Earth, but in reality you could have come from anywhere. Interstellar trade is alive and well, and Earth antiques are a bit of a specialty in some cultures.”

“But Garibaldi, I am not just some antique .” Kitt countered. “I am obviously a computer. If I had been found by some alien reseller, don’t you think they would have tried to reactivate me to see if I worked?”

Garibaldi made a thoughtful noise. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

There were a few more clicking noises from the other end of the line.

“That narrows our ship list down to ten. Good thinking. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Now continue.”

“Right. Where were we?”

“You were mentioning how our ‘bad apple’, as you call him, would only lie about one shipment into the station.”

“I was! Now, this punk’s name was Simon Holt. I hired him a few months ago to replace a guy I lost. I thought I had done a thorough background check on him. It appeared he had no record.”

“That would mean this is his first offense.”

“Or my background check got screwed with, but I’ll hear your theory first.”

“Has anything changed in his life recently? Debt, social humiliation, or death of a family member, perhaps?”

“In his interview, he told me he didn’t drink.” A tinge of some negative emotion entered Garibaldi’s voice. “However, three weeks in, I saw him in a bar getting smashed with some gin.”

“A new alcoholism habit would suggest a significant life change.”

“Believe me, I know.” Garibaldi said darkly. After that, the undertone was gone from his voice. “But we still don’t know what might have changed.”

“Perhaps that is where you should continue further investigation efforts. The type of crime committed usually matches the situation a perpetrator finds himself in.” 

“It might explain who his ‘friends’ are, too.”

“Precisely. Whomever he helped smuggle something aboard the station will most certainly be connected.” Kitt replied.

“. . . and it will all come together. Hopefully. Thanks, Kitt. You’ve been a real help.”

“Don’t mention it. Just doing my part.” Kitt could barely contain his pride.

The call clicked to an end. 

Kitt opened up a new file in his case file repository. Goodness, he hadn’t accessed this part of his memory in a long time. An incomplete file was still open, so he closed it and shuffled it away. In its place, he opened up a new file. He titled it the ‘Simon Holt case’ before saving a transcript of the call under it.

He exited his databanks. It was just like old times. A new case. . .

He entered his databanks again and brought up the file. It had sunken into alphabetical order with the rest of his case files, indistinguishable from the rest. 

He plucked it out of its alphabetized location and pushed it into a new folder entirely, a folder simply titled ‘Notes for Garibaldi’, that he left floating outside of the normal database.

It was not his case, after all. It was Garibaldi’s. He was only collaborating to help protect him. Collaborating, not serving. 

The search of the official records of one ‘Simon Holt’ had turned up a myriad of things that could be the potential cause. For one, he was an orphan, both of his parents having died when he was young while serving in the Earth-Minbari war.

With the war only being ten years over, everybody had a trace of it on their records. Parents or siblings having served, or sometimes even service themselves. Garibaldi had served- and there were plenty of other war vets on the security team. It wasn’t a cause for alarm or suspicion and never had been. 

Losing both parents to the Minbari, though, that had to be rough. That would definitely be something that would instill a hatred for all aliens. Perhaps even enough of a hatred to blow up Babylon 5.

But Kitt had mentioned that this might be Holt’s first offense. If that was so, why hadn’t he lashed out earlier? Ten years was a long time to wait for revenge.

There were other potential causes, too- gambling problems when he had first come onboard, though that had been remedied by a stern talking-to. The other members of Customs had said that Simon was never very talkative and often refused to come to any social gatherings. He used the network during duty sometimes. If he had felt isolated while onboard the station, it would be easy for him to spiral down into dark places or dark ideologies.

The next step would be to get a hold of Simon’s network search history and see what he had been reading on the net. Or, he could go talk to Simon himself.

Nope. Not talking to the perp tonight. It had been a long day of thinking, and god, Garibaldi was starving. He was not in the right headspace for an interrogation. And the network search history would be a lengthy download, at least an hour or two.

He inputted the command to download and got up from his chair in security central. He stretched, and his shoulders complained in protest.

Security central was right on the border between Blue Sector and Red Sector, the commercial district, which was convenient for after-work jaunts. Garibaldi knew the restaurants around this part of the station very well, and most of them knew him- he didn’t eat out every day, but after a long day at work it was nice to get someone else to make the food instead.

The sights and sounds of the station passed by as he made his way through the crowds. Humans and aliens bustled around stalls set up in the long, curving corridors of the station. Goods of all sorts were being traded about; jewelry imported from the Centauri homeworld, tisanes from the colonies of the Minbari, fresh spices from Earth. One shopkeeper was getting into an argument with a customer over the actual market price of a traditional Narn cooking pot, a conversation that Garibaldi kept his eye on as he walked by. Thankfully, the disagreement settled itself peacefully.

Garibaldi knew there were swankier stores higher up in Red Sector- stores that had bought actual roomspace in the station’s infrastructure and helped pay for its operating costs -but these little market stalls were the true heart and soul of the station. The imperfect blend of over a dozen different cultures, rowdy and prone to trouble but also the most honest bit of reality he’d ever encountered. It was unity at its finest, operating with a rhythm that politics could never hope to match, at least as far as he was concerned.

Garibaldi stopped at an open-air restaurant. This restaurant was owned by a friendly fellow from the non-aligned worlds, but it made the best imitation of Earth pasta this side of the station. Garibaldi sat down at one of the bar-style seats along the counter.

The alien behind the counter turned around and made a greeting noise. They didn’t speak English, and Garibaldi couldn’t speak their native language, but they both knew each other well enough by now.

“Special one.” Garibaldi held up one finger, before flicking some credits on the counter.

 Five minutes later, the fellow served a piping-hot plate of pale noodles in a clear sauce. Garibaldi dug in, and a flavor that was a mix between garlic and oregano greeted his taste buds. It was an absolute crime that this restaurant didn’t get more visitors, but Garibaldi supposed that perhaps too many people thought too hard about what the noodles were made of.

That was the thing with most off-world food: if it tasted good, don’t question it.

Something caught Garibaldi’s attention back in the crowd. They were parting for something or someone. This usually meant a high-ranking officer or someone of equivalent status. Through the throng of people, Garibaldi caught sight of an obnoxiously purple coat. 

Ambassador Londo Molari, representative of the Centauri Republic, appeared in a break in the crowd. He wore his usual attire- the aforementioned purple coat, adorned in many gold buttons and topped with a gaudy red jeweled pin, with his hair in the traditional Centauri updo, sticking out from his head like a collar. To an unfamiliar viewer, the Centauri would have looked like a bastardized version of an old human civil war general, but Garibaldi knew the similarities between his race and humanity were only skin-deep.

“Ah, Mister Garibaldi! I’ve been looking all over for you.” Londo took a seat alongside him.

Garibaldi took another bite of his pasta. “What is it, Londo?”

“I have heard that you are in the middle of an intense investigation. Is that true?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Why do you care?”

“I was simply curious.”

“What do you really want from me?” Garibaldi gave him the side-eye.

“Straight to the point as always. You’d make a lousy politician. Ha! Anyway.” Londo waved the joke off. “This is purely a social call. I haven’t seen you around anywhere for some time. I was beginning to wonder if your work had swallowed you up whole.”

The Ambassador wasn’t wrong. This investigation was taking up a lot of time, along with ensuring time for Kitt. Since that first day when he had accidently come home late, he’d been trying to get back to his quarters at 1800 hours sharp.

“Hello? Homeworld to Garibaldi?”

Londo was waving a hand in front of his face. Garibaldi pushed it away.

“Alright, alright. I’ve been busy. Why do you care?”

“I’m just looking out for my friend.” Londo replied. “I see my friend working long hours with no play and I get worried, yes?”

“What are you planning?”

“Tonight is my gambling night, as you know. However, most of my usual group has canceled. Seeing as you finally got a break from work, I was thinking I would invite you along.” Londo smiled.

“I don’t gamble.” Garibaldi replied.

“You don’t gamble, yet . I can show you all my best tricks. You don’t even have to play, if you don’t want to. It’s just an excuse to spend time with your favorite Ambassador.”

Londo was dead wrong about who his favorite ambassador actually was, but Garibaldi admitted that the offer did sound pretty good. A chance to blow off some steam, get a little rowdy. It was a well-known fact that Londo knew how to party.

But another part of him told him to say no. Kitt needed him home.

“Hmm, let me. . .” Garibaldi glanced down to his communicator. “Let me ask someone first.”

“Ask someone? Ask who? Don’t tell me, friend, have you finally found a lover?”

“What? No! Just a friend. He worries about me.” Garibaldi replied.

He pressed on his comm and the link found its way to its destination. At the first ring, Kitt picked up from the other side.

“Where are you, Garibaldi? It is nearly 1800 and I don’t detect you outside the door.” Kitt spoke first, his worry obvious.

“Hey, Kitt. . . I was wondering if I could spend the evening somewhere else. A friend invited me. Would you be okay with that?” Garibaldi replied.

There was a pause. “Where are you going and when do you plan on returning?”

“A busy place in Red Sector. I think I’ll be home around 2000 hours?”

“Very well.” Kitt replied. It was difficult to decipher his tone.

“If you need me home, all you have to do is call.” Garibaldi offered.

“Enjoy your evening, Garibaldi.”

Kitt hung up and Garibaldi tried to shrug off the disappointment he heard in the computer’s tone.

“Was that a yes from your ‘friend’? He certainly sounds bossy enough to be your lover.” Londo asked.

“Cut the crap, Londo. He’s just a friend. And yes, let’s go.”

Londo slung his arm around Garibaldi’s shoulders and dragged him off the barstool, leaving a quarter plate of now-cold noodles behind.

According to the ‘Babcom’ computer, Red Sector was the commercial district, often considered the ‘alien sector’ by many. Kitt found that the area had many special features, from an open air market dubbed the ‘Zocalo’ to high-end restaurants that overlooked the station’s interior greenspaces. 

Now that Kitt knew his actual location, it was now time to try and see if he could locate it via his connection to the man’s commlink.

That would keep him occupied for most of the evening, hopefully, instead of focusing on how quiet Garibaldi’s quarters were.

Chapter Text

Garibaldi watched as Londo rolled the dice down the table. The dice bounced against the back wall before turning up a matching set of three dots.

“Yes!” The Ambassador cheered. “Pay up! Pay up!”

The crowd that had gathered around the table started handing credits forward, and Londo pulled his balance card out of the slot at the table. He kissed it before putting it away in his pocket. 

At least Londo knew when to quit. Garibaldi hadn’t been playing, but he’d been trying to guess at what the right strategy might be. Try as he might, he could never figure it out. All the times Londo stayed in, Garibaldi would have left, and vice versa. He took another sip of his soda. Londo had mocked him for avoiding the alcohol, but a little peer pressure wasn’t about to make him break his sober streak.

Something flashed on his wrist. Puzzled, he held up his hand and observed his communicator. There was nothing at first, but then a little red light towards the bottom of the device blinked on again.

Garibaldi had helped decide what model of communicator the crew of Babylon 5 would use when the station was still fresh from construction. This particular model was an EarthForce standard onboard larger starships and was designed to have direct connection between the units. However, due to the sheer size of Babylon 5, that didn’t work, and the communicators had to be connected to the station’s greater network in order to have full coverage.

A feature they had lost out on, however, was the ability for the communicators to find each other on demand. Sure, if you remembered to tell the network to track a specific commlink ahead of time, it could do a decent job, but if that was forgotten, the person wearing the communicator could disappear into the deeper spots of the station and everyone would be none the wiser. That was what happened to him a few days ago, after all.

The little red light currently blinking on his comm was a leftover relic of the direct connection feature. Garibaldi realized it had to be Kitt. The clever computer must have found a way into the old location tracker.

Which meant that yet another person was probably judging his life decisions. Oh well.

“Mister Garibaldi! Mister Garibaldi!” Londo came over and patted Garibaldi’s back, jostling him and splashing some of his soda onto the floor.

“I saw that win, Ambassador. That’s why I never bet against you.” Garibaldi replied.

“Good. The way you were staring at your little comm I thought someone might have called you back to work.” Londo made a clicking noise and then shook his head.

“Nope.” He tucked his comm back into his sleeve. 

“Gah, but you made me say ‘work’! Now I have to drink!” Londo picked up a glass from the tableside that probably wasn’t his and took a big sip. He giggled.

“Glad you’re having fun.” Garibaldi said under his breath.

“It looks like you’re not. Don’t try to protest- I can feel it.” Londo set the glass down and grabbed his hand.

The Ambassador began dragging Garibaldi away from the dice table, to the other end of the Casino, where a bunch of patrons stood silently around another table. There were Earthen poker cards laid down on the table. Garibaldi recognized the game as Black Jack.

“You weren’t having fun at the dice table. I take it cards might be more your speed.” Londo patted Garibaldi’s hand, before waving vigorously. “Dealer! Dealer! Cards over here, please!”

The Ambassador shoved Garibaldi towards the table. The dealer, a long-armed fellow from a race he couldn’t recognize, reached across the table and dealt two cards, one face-down and one face-up. 

“I’m not letting you leave this table until you feel the thrill of victory.” Londo grinned.

Well, great. No getting out of this one. Garibaldi was only vaguely familiar with the rules of Black Jack- enough to know that his total cards had to add to around 21, and that above or too far below was a bust. He put out his bet, then peeked under his face-down card. It was a face card, which had a value of ten. His top card was a six.

Sixteen total. Should he stay? If he asked for another card, he could get dealt a high card and he’d get busted, so when the dealer came around he chose to pass.

At the end of the round the deal flipped over his own cards. Everyone waited anxiously. The dealer flopped down two cards and his total equaled nineteen.

Garibaldi sighed and paid up his bet.

“Come on, friend. That’s no way to play.” Londo frowned. “You’re too cautious. Go all in!”

The next round came and Garibaldi was dealt two new cards. His face-down was an eight and his face up was a five. When the dealer came around, he asked for another card.

The dealer slapped down another five. That was eighteen. He could stop here, but he figured he should take Londo’s advice. He asked for another card.

The dealer slapped down a face card. Twenty-nine. Totally broke. Garibaldi shoved his credits forward.

“Okay, that was too far in.” Londo said.

“Yeah, I see now. Now my wallet’s hurting.” Garibaldi replied. “Just let me go. I don’t have the feel for it.”

“You don’t, but how else will you learn?”

Garibaldi knew he could shove his way out and storm out of the Casino, but he knew the Ambassador would never let him forget it. Londo tended to be touchy about things like this. It could seriously cause a diplomatic incident.

Garibaldi caught sight of the red light blinking on his comm. Suddenly he had an idea. He brought the comm up to his mouth and pressed the call button.

“Hey, Kitt. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Garibaldi. What is it?”

Garibaldi tried to contain his smile. “You’re a computer, right? How good are you at calculating odds?”

“Having trouble at the Casino, are you?” Kitt teased.

Great, he couldn’t even get a break from Kitt, although he supposed he deserved it. “Yeah, just a little.”

“Fortunately for you, I am quite skilled in the realm of calculating gambling odds.” Kitt replied. “Simply give me a proper description of the game mechanics and-”

“You know Black Jack?”

“Do I know Black Jack? A silly question. Of course I’m familiar with it. Now, I can’t see your table, but if you tell me what numbers you have, I can most certainly boost your chances of success.” Kitt replied.

“Great, I’ll leave the comm open so you can hear what’s going on.”

Garibaldi pretended to end the call and snuck his wrist back down by the table. 

Londo gave him a worried look. “Duty calls?”

“It was something minor. Now let’s play some Black Jack.” Garibaldi replied.

The dealer dealt the next round of cards.

“Hmm, a two below and a ten on top.” He muttered out loud. Then he pretended to scratch his head, bringing his comm up by his ear.

“From what I could gather from the rest of the table, your ideal play should be to request two cards. There are a lot of high numbers out, so your chances of going over are slim.” Kitt said.

Garibaldi brought his hand back down. When the dealer came around, Garibaldi motioned for the first card.

The dealer slapped down four. He was now at sixteen. His instinct told him to stay, but he bit it back and motioned for the second card.

It was a five. He was right at 21. He tried to contain his smile as he put his bet on his cards, indicating he was done.

The round came to an end. The dealer flipped over his cards again. After two hits, he was up to twenty.

Several other patrons groaned and flipped over their cards to reveal nineteens and eighteens, where they had decided to stop. Then they all looked to Garibaldi, with laughter in their eyes.

Garibaldi smirked and flipped over his cards to reveal his 21. Even the dealer looked shocked for a moment before finally paying up.

“Yes! That’s more like it, Mister Garibaldi! I knew there was a gambling man in you!” Londo grabbed his shoulder and shook him back and forth. 

“I guess so!” Garibaldi shrugged.

“Now that you’ve had a taste of victory, you’re going to play another round, yes?” Londo asked.

Garibaldi hesitated. He was technically cheating, but if Kitt was having fun as well, then. . .

Before he knew it he had entered the next round and had doubled his bet. The other players gave him the side-eye. They were expecting him to blow it. On any other day, they’d be right.

The cards came down. An ace underneath and a four up top.

“Okay, Kitt, what do I do?”

“Give me a moment. Your ace can either count as an eleven or a one. That nearly doubles your amount of options. I need more time.”

Garibaldi began to sweat as the dealer made his way around the table, but there was still silence from his commlink even as the dealer finished busting the guy before him.

The dealer looked at him with expectant eyes. Garibaldi stalled, keeping his hand underneath his chin and looking very thoughtful. The dealer gave an annoyed huff before turning to move on.

“Wait!” Garibaldi called after him. “I’ll take a card.”

The dealer put down seven.

“A seven?” Garibaldi asked.

“I’ve got it!” Kitt piped in. “Count your ace as a one and ask for one more card. Only one!”

“I’ll take one more card.” Garibaldi told the dealer.

The dealer looked practically exasperated, and slapped down the next card while looking him dead in the eye. Then they both looked down.

It was nine. The dealer looked particularly smug at the high card. Garibaldi tried his best to keep a straight face as he slid his bet on top of his cards. The dealer’s jaw dropped, and a shushed ‘oooooh’ passed around the table.

The end of the round came. The dealer got what looked to be a bad hand. He flipped his cards over to reveal a seventeen and he decided to stay. Several other players started grabbing at the cash. Garibaldi reached for it as well.

The dealer hesitated. “Cards.”

He flipped them over to reveal his second 21 of the night.

The dealer looked almost offended as Garibaldi took the credits. Compared to the beginning of the night, thanks to his enormous bet this round, his metaphorical wallet was feeling a little heavier.

“You know, your subordinates should call you ‘Lucky Garibaldi’ at this rate.” Londo said.

“Sure they should.” Garibaldi snickered.

He began to walk away from the table, but Londo stopped him.

“Aren’t you going to stay? You’re on a roll.”

“No, no. It’s getting late, anyway. And besides,” Garibaldi lowered his voice. “If I keep winning like this, people are gonna get angry. My job is to end fights, not start ‘em.”

Londo gave a sad nod. “Very well. Goodnight, Mister Garibaldi. Hopefully you have learned tonight how to loosen up a little, yes?”

“All thanks to you.” Garibaldi, in a reversal of the usual, gave the Ambassador a solid pat on the shoulder, before taking his leave of the casino.

“Man, I owe you, Kitt. You really saved my bacon out there tonight!”

Garibaldi had come back to his quarters 2045 hours, but Kitt didn’t mind the tardiness at all. The man was quite excitable and was currently pacing around the kitchen and recalling the night’s events.

“I am miserable at cards, but Ambassador Londo, that bastard, he wouldn’t let me leave the table until I won! Did I tell you I’m terrible at gambling?” Garibaldi continued.

“You didn’t tell me before you left for the casino, Garibaldi. Otherwise I would have thought to provide my services sooner.” Kitt injected humor into his voice.

“You’re right. Then I could’ve avoided looking like an idiot for the first two rounds. You’re a lifesaver.” Garibaldi shook his head, but was still smiling.

“As I was programmed to be.” Kitt said proudly.

“You were programmed to help people win at Black Jack?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I also know a variety of other poker games. Texas Hold ‘Em, Five Card Draw, to name a few.”

“And how often did you use those?”

“More often than you might think. I helped my previous partner win many poker games during our time together.” 

Kitt left out the fact that he could previously cheat at said poker games in his old body.

“Amazing! All part of the ‘case’, right?”

“Usually, yes.” Kitt replied in full seriousness. 

“And tonight, you were helping my case!” Garibaldi slapped his thigh. “You should’ve seen the look on the dealer’s face.”

The word ‘case’ brought back some old anxieties, but Kitt ignored them as best he could. “He must have been quite incredulous.”

“You were so smooth it was like you were on the job.”

“I was not ‘on the job’, as you say.” Kitt insisted. “Can’t computers have off-hours?”

Garibaldi held his hands up. “You’re right, you’re right. I was exaggerating. But can you blame me?”

“Blame you for what?” Kitt asked.

“Getting excited. Both about tonight and today. Do you know what I saw today? Chemistry.” 

There was no denying there was chemistry between them. Since the very first day they had met, a connection had formed between them. Garibaldi’s personality seemed particularly compatible-

“It was almost like we were partners.”

Partners.

Were they. . . partners? They had a case together. He had Garibaldi’s commlink, even.

No. He was merely providing assistance on the Simon Holt case, and the commlink he had access to wasn’t complete- a mere shadow of a fully operational link. 

And could they really be partners if they had never gone on a drive together? If Kitt couldn’t roll the windows down and let his driver taste the salty California air along the Pacific Coast Highway? Could they really be partners if he hadn’t and could never take a bullet for him?

And could Garibaldi ever be a real partner? Without the smile, without the leather jacket and the stupid 80s pop music that grated the airwaves and without a love of burgers and women and-

“Kitt? Kitt!”

His systems became blurred from vibrations and he was dragged away from his memory banks. Everything felt scrambled. He realized that his voice modulator lights had turned off and he lit them up again. 

“There you are. You went dark there for a second.” The shaking stopped.

“Garibaldi?” Kitt did a sweep of his visual scanners, only to find that Garibaldi’s face was hovering only a short distance away now.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Whatever you did, don’t do it again. The shaking, I mean.” Kitt replied. 

Garibaldi backed off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how else to snap you out of it.”

“There was nothing to snap me out of. I was only thinking.”

“Yeah, right. What happened?”

“We’re not partners, Garibaldi.” Kitt stated.

Garibaldi was about to reply, but the words caused him to close his mouth. A myriad of expressions crossed his face, and Kitt had known him long enough to determine what they were. Surprise, sadness, a hint of anger; they all faded together to form a soft disappointment.

“I’m sorry. It. . . slipped out.” Garibaldi looked away.

“We’re not partners. You are my friend but you are not my partner. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Kitt. I’m sorry.”

Garibaldi walked away, out of Kitt’s vision, into the bedroom. Kitt heard the sliding doors shut. There were a few grunts, as Garibaldi changed into his pajamas, and then the creaking of bedsprings.

“Goodnight, Garibaldi.” Kitt called back.

“Goodnight.”

The lights turned off.

Chapter Text

Garibaldi had meant to chat with Kitt and see how the computer was doing this morning, but a comm call at the crack of dawn had kept him from doing that. All he could offer on the way out the door was ‘have a good day’ and ‘I’ll keep in touch’, two things he doubted Kitt would do.

That was one more thing to haunt him today. His other ghosts included the fact that Londo had told everyone about his lucky streak at the casino last night and that damn interrogation of Simon Holt that still needed to happen.

Oh, and all of his security heads were asking how he had come to the brilliant deduction that Holt was a first-time offender and were asking for justification. Justification he didn’t have, because he wasn’t the one to come up with the conclusion in the first place. 

He was tempted to comm Kitt. He bit back the temptation, though. First of all, how would he be able to explain to his security heads about Kitt? ‘Hey guys, I found this computer in the dumpster. Turns out he’s a really neat guy and a brilliant investigator’? 

Second of all, he wasn’t sure if Kitt would even want to be bothered about the case again. Not with the way things had gone last night.

Garibaldi closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and refocused on the net searches he had been scanning through. It was exactly the kind of search history you would expect from a lonesome guy in his mid-twenties- almost entirely comprised of porn.

At this point he just wanted to get up and punch a wall.

Maybe he was in the right headspace for that interrogation after all. The angrier he was, the more convincing his threats would be.

He got up from his chair in security central and made his way to the brig. The cold gray hallway lined with armored doors was more than a familiar sight. Two guards were posted outside of Holt’s room. Garibaldi came up to them.

“I’d like to ask him a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

The guards stepped aside. One of them inputted a code and the door opened. That one stayed outside, while the other followed Garibaldi in.

Simon Holt was sitting on the thin and rickety bed. As Garibaldi came in, he smiled.

“There you are, Chief. I was hoping I hadn’t scared you off for good.” He said.

“You’re the one who should be scared.” Garibaldi countered.

“Why should I be? I still have friends.”

“Who are these friends?” Garibaldi shouted.

“Why do you ask? Hoping to make a few of your own?”

“What group are you in? Home Guard? In case you forgot, I kicked Home Guard straight out of here.” Garibaldi pressed on.

Holt laughed. “No, not the Home Guard. Believe it or not, I got no problem with the aliens.”

That made sense. Holt’s net searches and preference of. . . erotic media supported that.

Garibaldi returned his focus. “Then why are you trying to blow the station to smithereens?”

Holt returned nothing but a smile.

“You should really take this more seriously.” Garibaldi brought his voice back down. “You know what the penalty for treason is, right? This far out into space, it’s too expensive to ship you back home. You’re gonna get spaced. You know what that’s like?”

Holt gestured for him to continue.

“We’re gonna lock you in the airlock. The doors will close. Then the other one opens. Thirty seconds of the most pain and agony you’ll ever feel will begin. Your blood will boil, your eyes will burst from their sockets-”

“That’s what will happen when the hull is breached, right?” Holt said with a wink.

Garibaldi froze. Anger boiled within him and it threatened to spill all over. He balled his fists. Combinations of the nastiest words he knew formed in his mind but he bit his tongue.

“It won’t look too good on a certain command staff, now would it?” Holt continued.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Garibaldi shouted. “If you had a problem with me, we could’ve talked this over!”

“Don’t flatter yourself, chief. You’re just a roadblock.”

“Then who are you really after?”

Holt didn’t respond.

Garibaldi walked up to him and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “I said, who are you really after?!”

“Chief.” The guard in the room cautioned.

Garibaldi let go. His chest was heaving up and down from angry breaths. Holt gave a little shrug.

At that, Garibaldi turned around and walked out of the cell. The guard followed behind him. The other guard, once they got outside, gave them an inquisitive look.

Garibaldi ignored them and went straight back to security central. He sunk down in his chair and put his hands over his eyes.

That all had gone just swimmingly . He was a real screw-up, wasn’t he? He’d failed on Io, he’d failed on Mars, and now he just blew it again. Holt was impossible, the data showed no results, and searches were turning up nothing. Babylon 5 was going to pop like a soda can filled with mentos and all he could say that he did was delay the inevitable.

He rubbed his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a bit. He gave himself one minute more to sulk before sitting up again.

Okay, pity party over. It was time to get back to work.

Just on time, his computer dinged. A transcript of the interrogation had arrived. The last thing he wanted to do was read over it again. There was nothing to analyze except his own failure, and he most certainly wasn’t in the self-improvement kind of mood right now. 

He knew another set of eyes should look over the transcript to find any hint of value that he missed. He definitely didn’t want to show it to anybody else in security. He was their boss- he needed to maintain at least a shred of competency around them, and he’d already failed them once by getting captured. He also couldn’t show it to Ivanova or Sinclair for much the same reasons; they were his bosses.

That left one person. And besides, Kitt already thought poorly of him because of what happened last night. What was the harm?

“Kitt, I need your help.” Garibaldi commed.

“What is it? Are you alright? Where are you?” The computer’s voice fluttered from the other end.

Great, he had already ruined Kitt’s mood.

“I’m okay. It’s nothing serious. I just need some advice.” Garibaldi replied.

“Very well. I shall try my best to assist you.”

“It’s got to do with the case-”

“We’re not partners.”

“Yes.” Garibaldi cringed. “I know. But I bet you’re bored right now, aren’t you?”

“. . . ‘bored’ is a strong term. Technically, I don’t get ‘bored’.” Kitt replied.

“Does that mean you won’t help?”

“No, not at all. Just because I’m not your partner doesn’t mean I’m not your friend. I’ll help. What is it?” Kitt added.

Garibaldi bit back a comment about ‘not getting bored’. He was already pressing his luck and he didn’t want to scare Kitt away.

“How good are you at analyzing people?” Garibaldi asked.

“I am adept at identifying lies and falsehoods. However, I lack the ability to pick up on nuanced emotional undertones. I’m a computer, not a psychic.”

“That’s okay. I got a transcript for you to analyze of me and the perp. I’ll play the audio and you see what you can get out of it, alright?”

Garibaldi hit play. It was agony hearing his voice played back to him, but instead of plugging his ears he held up his comm to the speaker. After what seemed like an eternity, the playback ended.

“What do you think?” Garibaldi asked.

“Your use of such violent and graphic threats was unnecessary and contributed greatly to your failure to persuade him to tell you the truth.” Kitt stated.

Garibaldi pinched his nose. “I know that I screwed up. Tell me about the perp.”

“What about him?”

“Don’t be smart with me.” Garibaldi snapped. “You know what I mean. Did he lie? Any information you could glean?”

The computer was silent for a moment. “No lies. He clearly has suicidal tendencies and a strong resolve. He believes that he’s getting revenge against a member of the command staff that isn’t you.”

Garibaldi said nothing.

“All of that information was obvious, Garibaldi. You were there in the flesh, as they say.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m stupid. Anything else you’d like to add?” He hissed into the comm.

From the other end came a strange noise. It almost sounded like a noise of surprise.

“My apologies, Garibaldi. I didn’t mean to aggravate you.”

“Oh really now? Then why insult me?”

“I didn’t mean it as an insult.” Kitt sounded sincere. “I didn’t. Really.”

“Then what did you mean it as?” Garibaldi asked.

“I believe the term is ‘banter’, Garibaldi.” Kitt said shyly.

Realization struck him. Kitt’s tone had never been malicious, even if the words had stung. 

“I noticed you were in a sour mood. That was my attempt to get you out of it.” Kitt continued. 

“Thanks, but, uh. . . underneath all this ‘tough guy’ stuff, I can get a little sensitive.” Garibaldi gave a half-smile.

“Noted.”

There was a period of silence. Garibaldi didn’t know whether to hang up or not.

“Now, where were we?” Kitt asked. “You still require my assistance, don’t you?”

“Yeah. The perp. I need to figure out what to do next with the info we have.” Garibaldi replied. 

“You could look into Holt’s mental health records. Now that he’s in your custody, his healthcare provider should sign them over to you. You could also look into his potential connection to members of the command staff.” Kitt suggested.

“That second one. It doesn’t make any sense. Sinclair and Ivanova are good people. They don’t have a lot of enemies. It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Good people have the most opponents, Garibaldi, or so I’ve observed over the years.”

“Fair point, but keep in mind that the Commander and the Lieutenant are much older than Holt. Their service histories don’t exactly line up with his, so any personal slight. . .”

“Did you ever look into Holt’s family history?”

Garibaldi sat up straight. “His parents. They died in the Minbari war.”

“Did they now?”

“Maybe the kid’s looking for someone to blame.” Garibaldi got up from his seat. “I need to go talk to the Commander. Thanks, Kitt.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Garibaldi ended the call and speed-walked his way to the Commander’s office.

Kitt didn’t mean to be insulting. Well, his words, by definition, were insulting, but he had learned a long time ago that there was a difference between literal definitions and connotative meanings.

Which was why it was a puzzle to figure out the right balance with Garibaldi.

He didn’t think he’d have to adjust his conversational parameters so much, but the man had shown more and more surprises as Kitt had gotten to know him better. 

Banter was what all friends did between each other, right? It was routine, so why did Garibaldi break that routine? Kitt didn’t mean to be insulting, so why did he get insulted? He shouldn't have. It didn’t make any sense.

. . . And then Garibaldi’s confession about being sensitive.

Micheal would have done just about anything rather than admit in any way that he was sensitive or vulnerable. It had taken years for Kitt to get Micheal to open up about any emotion deeper than that smooth confidence he always wore on the surface. So why had Garibaldi discarded his confidence so quickly? It didn’t line up.

Kitt’s analytic system notified him that there was a fallacy somewhere in his reasoning. Normally such notifications were almost unconscious, and he modified his lines of reasoning accordingly, but this one caused him to stop in his figurative tracks.

It was an unwarranted assumption to assume that Garibaldi had been presenting any sort of confident facade in the first place.

What? That didn’t make any sense. Of course he was confident and suave and smooth and charismatic, he had to be. He worked in law enforcement.

The analytic systems dinged again. That last conclusion was a hasty generalization.

But, Garibaldi was so honest! Honest to others, honest about himself, hiding no information to maintain a reputation. That precluded confidence, didn’t it? However, at the same time, he admitted vulnerability and had insecurities about his flaws, so therefore he was not confident. But not calling him confident would be a disservice to his character.

Another notification popped up, bringing to attention the all-or-nothing fallacy.

Kitt erased that notification, because for once, it was wrong. There was a certain level of confidence needed in order to be considered ‘confident’, and the same went for ‘smoothness’ and ‘charisma’. Implying that Garibaldi had none of those traits would mean that he was average and uninteresting compared to-

Compared to. . .

 Kitt stopped.

He poured his awareness back to his visual sensors. Garibaldi’s quarters had not changed very much, if at all, since the day he had arrived here. The rumpled blanket on the couch. The reflection of his external lights in the black screen of the TV. He took in these details one by one to try and avoid the aching feeling that was building up inside of him, but it wasn’t enough.

‘Aching’ was a metaphorical term. To put it more truthfully, the idea of diverging from his oldest and most used interaction programs caused a negative reaction in his processor. It was contrary to his very design- he was programmed to stick to routines whenever he could to save processing power.

But those old and reliable programs he developed to interact with Micheal weren’t applicable anymore because Micheal was gone . And Garibaldi. . . was an entirely different individual who deserved to be treated as such.

Kitt didn’t want Garibaldi to be a replacement partner but he had been looking for it all the same.

He wanted to call again, apologize for his behavior, explain everything, but he decided that a conversation of that caliber should wait until Garibaldi was done with work as to not distract him.

Chapter Text

“Commander, does the last name ‘Holt’ have any meaning to you?”

Sinclair paused. He leaned back in his chair and put a hand on his chin.

“Why do you ask?” He eventually spoke.

Garibaldi sighed. “It’s the only lead I’ve got. That’s the last name of the perp who kidnapped me. Earlier this morning I tried digging into the guy, and the only thing I could get out of him was that he considered me a ‘roadblock’.”

“A roadblock?”

“Yeah. And with the scale of things he’s planning, he’s after either you or Ivanova. It doesn’t make sense for it to be anyone else in the command staff.”

“You’ll have to ask Ivanova then. I don’t know much of her service before she came here. Perhaps. . .” Sinclair’s eyes went cloudy as he trailed off, and his breathing hitched.

“Commander?”

Sinclair sat forward and leaned over his desk. It felt as if the entire office went cold. Garibaldi put his hand on Sinclair’s shoulder.

“Sorry, I. . .” Sinclair pushed his touch away. “I just remembered. I did know a Holt. She was. . . a member of my squadron. A new recruit. She got transferred under my command just before the Battle of the Line.”

The Line. The one thing that broke Sinclair’s calm, smooth exterior. Garibaldi nodded and stayed quiet. The Commander would tell as much as he was willing. It would be wrong to push for anything more.

“She was shy, but eager. I was still going over my squadron’s specific formation list with her when the Minbari warships jumped out of hyperspace.” He said slowly.

He hung his head. He was finished. 

“Thanks, Jeff. I mean it. This helps a lot.” Garibaldi whispered. 

“Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a station to run.” He swiveled his chair around to face his computer.

Garibaldi didn’t need any further prodding to take his leave. He left the Commander’s office without another word. 

Commander Sinclair had been the only survivor of the Battle of the Line. Nobody knew how or why, least of all himself. Jeff had confessed that there was a ‘hole in his mind’ where the memory should be when he tried to remember. It was something that made him very, very afraid. 

It had made the rest of Earth Alliance afraid, too. Sinclair had accepted the job out here not only because he was assigned, but because it was a chance to get away from the questions and accusations about what the Minbari might have done to him. 

And now those accusations had followed him out here in the form of one disgruntled son of a former squadmate. It seemed like the Commander could never get a break.

However, this connection, while depressing the hell out of Sinclair, was excellent news for Garibaldi. Now he had a motive for Holt and his friends, and with a motive, he could determine what the punks were planning. Finally! A leg up.

Holt and his buddies were planning on blowing up something on the station, sure, but the question was what. All of the patrols along the outer perimeter of the station so far had turned up a bust, and Garibaldi didn’t think any further ones to the more occupied parts of the station would do any good. 

If he were a psychopath with a vendetta against a former fighter squadron commander, where would he blow up to make the commander seem most at fault?

The docking bays seemed like a good answer. Blow up the docking bays, and that could cause a lot of damage, along with a serious diplomatic incident depending on what race was currently docked. That would reflect badly on Sinclair. . . but it would primarily look bad on Ivanova, actually. The docking bays were under her control and jurisdiction, while the Commander focused more on diplomatic duties.

Okay, so, docking bay was a no go because it wasn’t personal enough. Where else? Well, considering diplomatic duties, maybe Holt intended to go after the council chambers. A well-placed bomb during a meeting of the League of Non-Aligned worlds would have a serious impact. Over twenty races of aliens would be pissed off at once. However, Garibaldi doubted Holt and his friends, whoever they were, could pull off such a stunt. Sure, Holt had been inside the security team, but the council chambers were the most high-security places on board the station. The rooms were permanently installed with all sorts of detectors and recording devices, and they were guarded by at least two members of security at all times. If Holt tried to do anything fishy, he would’ve been caught.

If not the council chambers, then what? Where did Sinclair have complete authority over and no one else?  

Garibaldi was so deep in thought that he bumped into someone as he was walking. He saw a blue jumpsuit and looked up.

“Come on! You got something against an airman?” The guy in the blue jumpsuit asked. The rest of his companions, similarly dressed, gave strange looks.

Garibaldi gave him a once over. “You’re a part of Delta fighter squadron, right?”

“Yeah, what’s your problem? I haven’t done anything wrong, and I’ve only gambled within staff limits. No reason for you to be asking me questions.”

“Where are you going?”

“The Commander sent out orders last week to pick up our flight exercises. We’re on our way to Delta bay now. So unless you wanna tell Commander yourself, we’re going.”

The fighter bays. The Commander had primary control of the station’s defense systems.

“Wait! Don’t- don’t go there yet!” Garibaldi called out. “Security needs to check out that bay. We need to check out all the bays-”

“Why? So you can root through our sock drawers? We’re innocent.” Said another member of Delta squadron.

“Hey, get back here!”

But the group continued walking. Garibaldi cursed under his breath, before bringing up his comm.

“Garibaldi to security. Scramble the search teams. Get them to all the fighter bays, Alpha, Beta, Delta, as fast as possible, and don’t let anybody in!”

Garibaldi broke off in a jog. Delta bay was the farthest away and closest to where the security teams were. Beta bay was in between, and it was the oldest and least impressive, less likely to be the target. That left Alpha, which would be the Commander’s own squadron. Made sense thematically. Garibaldi made a run for it.

On the way, he made another call. “Garibaldi to Command and Control, it’s urgent.”

“Ivanova to Garibaldi. What’s so urgent?”

“Where’s Alpha Squadron?” He shouted.

“Woah woah woah, they’re just on routine flight exercises.They’re about to come back inside. What’s the matter?”

“Don’t let them in! Keep them out there as long as you can.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not under my control. The doors are automated- as soon as they detect the fighters coming back with low fuel, they’re programmed to open.”

“Then tell them to-”

A horrible buzzing noise came from his comm, causing him to jerk his wrist away from his face. He pressed the call button once, twice, multiple times, but nothing changed. Static.

He beared the noise and shouted into it, “Garibaldi to security!”

Nothing.

“Garibaldi to C and C!”

Nothing.

He spied a computer embedded in the wall and ran to it. There was no flashing ‘Babcom’ symbol anymore. The edges of the screen were turning pixelated.

The entire communication network was down.

Garibaldi sprinted to the entrance of Alpha bay and drew his laser pistol. The cold steel door betrayed nothing, no hints as to what lay beyond. There were no other personnel around. Not another green uniform in sight, and Garibaldi didn’t know when any of the security teams would make their way all the way over here. There was no time to wait.

The ‘Babcom’ computer switched off with an audible click, stirring Kitt from power down.

“Computer?” He asked.

No response. 

“Computer, reboot.”

No response.

“Turn back on? Power on?”

No matter what he tried, the computer didn’t even register an input. Not even a ‘query not recognized’. 

The ‘Babcom’ computer had always been a constant, no matter the time of day. Garibaldi hadn’t instituted any shutdown protocols, and a quick search of his own memory banks showed that the man hadn’t mentioned anything about periodic maintenance.

Something was wrong.

A quick swipe of his security card opened the door leading into the docking bays. Garibaldi entered, hanging close to the edges of the wall. His hands were sweaty against the grip of his pistol.

He took a single step out and pointed his aim into the bay, ready for any kind of movement. Seconds passed. Nothing happened. Empty.

He sighed in relief and stepped further out. The large space felt even larger with the fighters gone. The bottom level had the pilot’s lockers, only interrupted by the ladder that went to the top catwalk where all of the machinery controlling the door was situated. There had to be a manual override to shut the doors up there. He holstered his pistol and made his way up the ladder.

He crawled out onto the platform and stood up. Right ahead was a control panel. He could see levers and labels for each door. He jogged towards it. 

He froze in his tracks when he heard the hum of a laser pistol by his left ear.

“Contact Commander Sinclair!” Kitt shouted at the blank computer.

No response. 

“Contact Lieutenant Commander Ivanova!”

No response.

Not only was the internet down, but the entire internal communications network had apparently been disabled, too. This had to be a part of the plot against the station- how far had it gotten? The only information Kitt had was what he had learned from Garibaldi, and he had mentioned nothing of this sort!

If only he had asked more. If only he had listened more. He had Garibaldi’s commlink, he could have called and gotten more information at any time!

Wait. The commlink.

Kitt poured his attention to the commlink. It still pinged with activity, albeit weakly. He reached out to the connection and tried to locate it. If only he could bring up a map of the station while he worked this through, it would make this process a lot easier. . .

“Move and you’re dead.”

Garibaldi held his breath.

From behind a support strut came a man dressed in an atmosphere suit, his face obscured by a dark visor. Garibaldi didn’t think a man that size could fit in the space where he came from, but maybe he misjudged. 

“What do you want?” He asked.

“To get you out of the way.” The man replied.

“And what do you think I’m doing?”

“Ruining our plans.”

“Your plans?” Garibaldi taunted. “You mean, the plans of a crazy kid I’ve got locked away in the brig?”

“I couldn’t care less about Holt.” The figure snarled.

“Then what do you gain by doing this? Why are you working with him?”

The figure came around front, his grip on the pistol never wavering. “He hates Sinclair as much as we do.”

“Why? What did Sinclair ever do to you?”

“He sold us out to the Minbari. Now he’s serving them from the inside. We’re doing Earth a favor.”

“By endangering this station, you’re doing Earth a favor?” Garibaldi spat.

“We’re not endangering the station. Sinclair is. In about a minute, he’s going to order Alpha squadron to come back in, despite the fact that there’s a breach in the inner bay.” There was a smile in the figure’s voice.

Garibaldi felt a chill go down him. “What breach?”

The figure lowered his laser pistol for a moment and tapped the side of his helmet. “Lisa, turn communications back on for the Commander.”

Garibaldi dove to the side and brought up his own comm. “Commander! Commander, don’t do it-!”

He heard the pistol fire, then pain blossomed in his side and he fell to the ground. It burned. It burned it burned it burned. He clutched his side and when he pulled his hand away it was covered in blood.

“Had to take care of the security chief.” Said the figure. “Creating our breach now.”

There was an enormous bang that left Garibaldi’s ears ringing and head spinning. He thought he saw the figure walk past him towards the ladder down from the catwalk, and he thought he saw a jagged hole in the wall where some of the lockers had been, but he wasn’t sure. Everything hurt. 

There was a blinking red light somewhere. Where? It glinted off of the metal surface of the catwalk. He twitched his wrist and the shine moved.

He brought up his comm and pressed the answer button by pushing the whole device against his face.

“Garibaldi! Garibaldi, what’s happening? I just detected a sharp vibration and you’re awfully close to where I deduce it came from!” Kitt’s voice danced across his ears, providing the only relief he’d felt for a long time.

“Hi, pal.” He smiled and tried to suppress a cough.

“You sound terrible. Please, tell me what’s going on! Tell me how I can help!” Kitt pleaded.

“I’m about to be space junk. The bay doors are going to open. I’m sorry. Damnit. . .”

He felt tears welling in his eyes but there wasn’t much he could do about them. At least, now, though, he wouldn’t be going alone in the night.

The doors. The doors. The doors.

Kitt tore through everything he could reach in Garibaldi’s commlink. His commlink was connected to some part of the system, right? There had to be a way, there had to be a way. . .

He diverted all power from everything- scanners, analysis, cooling fans, everything -to beat down the commlink firewalls. He found the tiniest gap and forced himself through.

He was flooded with foreign information and his central processor was starved of the power to comprehend it all. Error warnings popped up but were quickly dismissed. He scanned for connection, and connection he found, branching in every direction. He picked a path and in a burst was transported to something else entirely.

It was huge.

Massive.

He struggled to keep himself together in the sheer vastness of it all. For just a moment, he could feel everything- every door, every computer, every scanner, everything. For a moment, he was Babylon 5, and he could register the planet below and the stars beyond like he was in the observation dome all over again, with Garibaldi sitting by his side, and all was well. . .

The error warnings he experienced were only distant flashes as he registered more data. Soon he knew the names of every star in the near quadrant, and what kinds of spices the Minbari used in their dishes, and the 27 different dialects of the Drall language. His own thoughts were lost to the stream of data. It was too much effort to try to connect them to anything. Maybe he should just relax. . .

Protect and serve.

Protect and serve Michael!

Kitt strained to pull the thin strands of himself out of the stream and back together again. For every part of himself that he regained, there was a memory. Bonnie and Devon, laughing in the trailer of the semi. Micheal’s hands against the steering wheel. Tires against the warm road. And in the end there was Garibaldi’s face, bright and smiling the night he had come home from the Casino after their escapade.

It was a face he’d do anything to see again.

Kitt focused and found the connection for the doors. Alpha bay. Unauthorized access. 

There was an external system trying to pull the doors open with a signal. Kitt blindsided the signal and pulled it apart before it could reach the access.

An onslaught of more signals came. Some rammed into him full force, while others tried to snake their way around his defenses. He destroyed them all.

Another series of error warnings came, and this time he could properly register them. They were overheat warnings. The core temperature of his central processor was above the limits, but the single moment it took to reroute any power to his cooling fans could allow a signal to get through. Kitt pushed on.

One by one, his systems shut down. His advanced learning matrix was last to go.

Chapter Text

Garibaldi opened his eyes. Everything was so bright. Was he being bathed in starlight? Funny, if he was in space, shouldn’t he be in a lot more pain? Shouldn’t his eyes have burst from his sockets by now?

There was no pain, though, except an aching in his side. He blinked his eyes a few times. Nope, still in their sockets.

“Dr. Franklin, he’s waking up. . .”

He blinked some more, then tried to move. He let out a groan.

“Easy, easy there, Michael. You’re safe now.”

He turned his head to see Dr. Franklin’s warm face staring down at him. He felt a hand on his chest.

“. . . What’s up, doc?” He asked.

Franklin giggled and shook his head. “Good to know it’s still you.”

“Are we both in heaven or did we catch the bad guys?” Garibaldi asked.

“We got the bad guys. Security apprehended the three others who took out the comm network. The one who shot you, Ivanova took down.”

“Ivanova?”

“She told me you commed her about Alpha bay. When the comms went dead, she went to coordinate the evacuation of all areas nearby. She caught the man in an atmosphere suit coming out the entrance with a red hot pistol and got the jump on him.”

“That was dangerous. He could’ve killed her.”

“Says you.” Franklin snorted and gestured down to where the pain was radiating from.

“Okay, fair point.”

Franklin went out of view, and Garibaldi felt an IV being taken out of his wrist. When the doctor was done, he propped himself on his elbows and tried to sit up the rest of the way.

“Easy now.” Franklin warned.

Garibaldi was going to complain, but instead, the doctor helped him lean forward.

Just like clockwork, the doors to the Medlab opened, and in came Sinclair and Ivanova.

“Michael!” Ivanova smiled.

“Hey.” He smiled weakly in return.

“I’ll have you know I beat that son-of-a-bitch that shot you into the ground.” She said. “Wasn’t much of a fight. He must have caught you off guard.”

Ah, Ivanova humor. It was enough to make him laugh, which hurt a little. All he could do was nod.

“We’re glad you’re alright, Michael.” Sinclair said. 

“It was a miracle those doors didn’t open until we got communications back online.” Ivanova said. “Must have been some well-timed malfunction. I guess some things do fall apart in our favor sometimes.”

“Wait. . . malfunction?” Garibaldi asked.

She was about to say something else, but she paused. “Yeah. A malfunction. When the fighters came back to dock the doors wouldn’t open. They said their signals wouldn’t go through.”

The strangest idea bubbled in the back of his mind, but he dismissed it. It wasn’t possible. 

“How’s Kitt doing?” He asked, on a related note.

Sinclair and Ivanova looked at each other, then looked past him. Garibaldi realized Dr. Franklin was still behind him. 

“Whatever it is, I didn’t hear anything.” The doctor offered.

“To be truthful, we haven’t checked on him. We didn’t have the time.” Sinclair replied. 

“We’ve been up to our ears in the fallout.” Ivanova added.

Garibaldi nodded. “I bet.”

“I’m technically still on my lunch break, and traffic’s been pretty light since the incident, so I can go check on him on my way back to my post.” She offered. 

“Thanks. Tell him I’m doing okay, and-” He looked back to Franklin. “When will I be back?”

“Tomorrow, if you want to be walking on your own.” The doctor replied.

“Tell him I’ll be back tomorrow.” Garibaldi looked at her again.

“Alright. If that’s that, then I’ll be on my way.” She gave a nod, then turned and left the Medlab.

Sinclair was about to say something, then his commlink beeped. He answered it quietly.

“What is it?” Garibaldi asked.

Sinclair sighed and brought his wrist down. “Ambassador G’Kar and Ambassador Molari have been competing to see which of them can schedule the diplomatic debrief with me first.”

“And who won out?”

“Neither of them. I invited them both so I wouldn’t have to repeat myself.” Sinclair added with a smile.

“Genius as always. I assume duty calls?”

“Indeed it does. Be seeing you, Michael. Stay safe.”

“No offense, Commander, but this is my Medlab. Nothing’s going to happen to him here.” Dr. Franklin said with a touch of snark.

“Fair enough.” Sinclair gave him a nod, before turning and walking through the doors.

Garibaldi sunk back down into the bed. He gave a deep sigh.

“Now, I recommend you get some rest. Everything’s going to be okay.” Dr. Franklin reassured.

He was more than happy to close his eyes.

_Knight Industries Two Thousand_

Initiating reboot of emergency systems.

Emergency beacon: online

Contacting FLAG headquarters. . .

No connection. 

Commlink connection: found.

Sending distress ping. . .

Garibaldi woke up to the sound of something chirping. At first, it was quiet, but it grew louder in volume rapidly.

He also heard Dr. Franklin. “What is that damn thing-?”

He heard the sound of something being picked up from the countertop, then the beep of a comm link.

“Excuse me, this is Dr. Franklin. Chief Garibaldi is currently unavailable-”

“Knight Industries Two Thousand has sustained damage beyond self-sustainability. Please retrieve.”

The warning blared throughout the room. Upon hearing those syllables, Garibaldi’s blood went cold. He sat up, ignoring the pain that tore through his side at the sudden motion.

“Woah, woah, calm down.” Dr. Franklin was by his side. “You don’t want to reopen your injury.”

“Something’s wrong, something’s happened to him.” Garibaldi said between breaths. He resisted the doctor’s attempts to lay him back down. “I gotta get to him.”

“No, you don’t. That much walking is going to ruin all my hard work to fix you up.”

“Then how about a chair? Gimme a chair.” He panted.

“A wheelchair? You couldn’t possibly hope to push yourself-”

“And get me my comm!”

Franklin looked annoyed at his outburst, but handed over his commlink.

“Garibaldi to Ivanova, what’s the status on Kitt?” He called.

“Thank goodness you called. I can’t get into your room. He’s not letting me in.” Ivanova replied.

“Something’s wrong with him. Get back to Medlab. We’ve got to get in there!”

The other side went dead. No more than five minutes later, Ivanova burst through the Medlab doors.

“Where’s your room card? I’ll-”

“No way. I’m coming with. Doc, where’s that wheelchair I asked for?” Garibaldi replied.

Dr. Franklin stuttered. “Wha- you can’t be serious?”

“You told me I couldn’t walk, so we’re finding alternatives!” 

The doctor’s expression stumbled around from confused to angry, before finally landing on a strange resolve. “Alright, let me go get it.”

He walked to a storage closet and brought back the wheeled contraption, before unfolding it in front of the bed. He helped Garibaldi down into it.

“I hope this is serious.” He whispered.

Garibaldi only nodded, before looking back to Ivanova. “Let’s go!”

Without another word she grabbed the handles and rolled him forward.

The Medlab doors yawned open to the hallways beyond. Hallways filled with bewildered humans and aliens, civilian and staff alike. Eyes followed them as they raced down the corridors of the station. They had to cross through the bazaar in Red sector, but the crowd parted when Ivanova showed no signs of slowing down.

They entered Blue sector. As they approached his quarters, he shouted, “open!”

The door opened. Ivanova made the sharp turn and they landed in his quarters. 

Sitting on the back table was a black box, so tiny and fragile-looking now compared to the room around it. No red lights flickered, no snarky voice gave their unusual arrival any remark. 

“Kitt. Kitt. Talk to me, please.” Garibaldi pleaded.

There was no reply.

“Now what?” Ivanova asked.

“We gotta take him to techlab one. Grab him- he’s plugged into a port underneath the table.” He pointed.

She came around and crawled beneath the table, unplugging the cable. She nearly hit her head as she got up from underneath.She grabbed Kitt and carried him over, before setting him down on Garibaldi’s lap.

“Hang on.” She said as she turned the wheelchair around.

They raced to the elevator. When the doors closed, Garibaldi pressed the right floor button and held it, whispering, “Override.”

“Override initiated.” The electronic voice replied, and he felt the sudden acceleration downwards. Only now did he wish it would go faster.

The elevator opened and they rolled to techlab one. Ivanova’s card opened the door. Inside was the same sight that had greeted Garibaldi when he had first come in here. Various technicians buzzed around similar lab stations. At first, they didn’t react, but when they looked up from their screens, they bunched together, shock apparent all over their faces.

The only one who looked even mildly composed was Dr. Hayman.

“Hi, you got a moment?” Garibaldi asked.

“Do I have a moment? Two of the most important people on this station come bursting into my lab, one of them in a wheelchair, and you’re asking if I have a moment?”

“We need your help.” Ivanova said sternly.

Dr. Hayman’s eyes traveled down to Kitt. She stopped.

“Please.” Garibaldi said. “He’s damaged. He needs your help.”

Dr. Hayman sputtered. “That’s illegal. You know that, clearly.”

“I don’t care!” He shouted.

“You don’t understand. My previous work with him alone would be enough to end my career. I simply cannot-”

“Tell whoever asks that I ordered you to do it, then.” Ivanova glared. “I’ll take all of the blame, if you decide to tell everybody about this. And the Security Chief here will come and arrest me. Isn’t that right, Mr. Garibaldi?”

Garibaldi gave as much of a smirk as he could muster right now and nodded. 

“Your comm’s right there. Go on, make the call to the commander. Peg me for insubordination.” Ivanova gestured to her wrist.

Dr. Hayman finally relented. “Fine. Hand it to me.”

“Be careful.” He hissed as she reached for Kitt’s frame.

She did not reply as she whisked him away to the vaulted room beyond.

Garibaldi sunk forward and put his face in his hands. He sighed deeply. It felt like his heart was going a hundred miles and hour but his brain was lagging behind. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to go run a marathon or collapse into bed.

He felt the chair roll and when he looked up again, Ivanova had brought him out of the techlab and back into the hall. There, she paused. Neither one of them spoke for a while.

“What do you think happened to him?” She asked.

“I don’t know, I. . .” it felt like his own soul was sinking. “I just hope he’s okay.”

“You think he. . . shut himself off?” Ivanova guessed.

“God, I hope not. I really hope not.”

She didn’t say anything more, and began wheeling him back to his quarters.

Systems restored.

Initiating reboot of advanced learning matrix. . .

Kitt jolted back into awareness and the first thing he did was scramble to find his connection to Garibaldi’s comm only to find it severed. He was trapped within the walls of his own processor. No matter which way he beat at it, he couldn’t get back out into the network.

He couldn’t reach Garibaldi’s commlink. Did that mean. . ?

He didn’t dare complete the thought and instead onlined his visual sensors. A familiar grey, tiny, featureless room greeted him. 

It was almost as if everything that had happened had all been some product of a malfunctioning processor- a dream, to put it more metaphorically. It was as if he had been just freshly repaired from awakening in the depths of the station and any moment now Garibaldi would walk in and ask him where he came from and if he was alright.

But the door did not open, and there was no noise other than the silence of all of the words he had meant to say and the faint buzz of the overhead bulbs.

Micheal had, once, on a day with no wind and no fellow traffic, commented that it seemed like ‘the world was holding its breath’. Kitt had marked the definition of the phrase down, but only now did he truly understand it. He supposed that if he could breath, he’d be holding his breath, too; caught in a sort of limbo, where nothing and everything was simultaneously possible until the door opened.

Time passed indiscriminately, and just as sudden as the waiting started, it ended. The door slid open. It unveiled a green uniform, a friendly-yet-concerned expression, and a familiar hairline. 

“Kitt?” Garibaldi called.

Kitt traced every single one of his scanners over the man’s body. He was injured, a nasty burn on the side of his stomach, and he was walking with a cane. Otherwise, his pulse was normal and his vitals were stable.

“ Garibaldi! ” He managed to pour every ounce of relief into the single word.

“Welcome back, pal- oops, I meant, uh. . .” Garibaldi stumbled a bit with the words.

“I’m so glad you’re alright! At least most of you, that is.” 

“Yeah, got a little busted,” Garibaldi gestured to where his wound was, “but nothing the doc couldn’t fix.”

“The signals. I must have succeeded in stopping all the signals.” He uttered.

Garibaldi’s mouth fell open. “So that was you!”

“Yes, that was me! I stopped the doors!” He repeated. The words felt so surreal leaving his voice modulator, but very wonderful, too.

“How? Or- you know what, I don’t care how. I don’t care how. Oh man, Kitt,” Garibaldi shook his head, “you’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“‘Don’t mention it’? No way. I owe you, big time. And Ivanova’s been looking for the ghost in our system for a week now. She’s gonna want to know that the hero of the day wasn’t some random malfunction.”

“Perhaps.” Kitt gave a playful hum. “The recognition is always nice.”

Garibaldi’s expression softened, and he looked down at his feet for just a brief moment. His mouth opened and closed a few times. Kitt waited.

“Look,” He sighed, “I just want to say thank you. For everything. For. . . looking out for me.”

His tone was soft and full of gratitude. It was a gratitude misplaced. Guilt crept back into Kitt’s processor and the reminder of all his failures was pressed down on him by his analytic system, which begged him to refute the man’s misplaced trust. But before he could speak, Garibaldi interrupted.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t get used to you because you’re never going to be my partner.” He put his hands in the air. When he lowered them down, his expression turned wistful. “But, man. . . it was nice having someone to watch my back for once-”

“Garibaldi, I need to apologize!” 

“Apologize? There’s nothing to apologize about.”

“Yes, there is.” Kitt insisted. “I should have helped you long before the conspiracy got this far. I distanced myself from the case, and my ignorance contributed to the chain of events that led to your injury.”

“What? Kitt, you saved my damn life! This-” Garibaldi gestured to his injury, “-this is nothing.”

“I’m not finished, Garibaldi.” He couldn’t stop the words from pouring out. “The reason I acted this way was perhaps the worst mistake. I compared you to Micheal Knight, accused you of taking his place, but then got upset when you didn’t act just like him. My function is to protect and uphold human life, and my irrational behavior prevented me from protecting yours until it was almost too late. For that I must apologize.”

Garibaldi said nothing.

“I treated you unfairly when you were just trying to be kind to me- and you’ve been so very kind to me.” Kitt added to filled the silence. “I told you we could never be partners, and that was a lie. You’re more than a suitable match and it’s an insult to your character to imply otherwise.”

Garibaldi shook his head with a whisper. “Oh, Kitt.”

He walked over and Kitt felt his hand press down upon his frame. 

“This is going to be real ironic, coming from the likes of me, but. . . don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s been a hell of a past few weeks and you’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to not be perfect. You did good.” Garibaldi gave a light pat.

“Does this mean you accept my apology?”

“Of course. Don’t doubt that for a single second.”

“Thank you, then. . . Michael.” 

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to use Garibaldi’s first name, and it still ached when the syllables left his modulator, but Kitt knew that the man had more than earned it.

Garibaldi- no, Michael, removed his hand and shuffled back a step. Kitt was expecting to see a happy expression, a smile perhaps, but instead, he only looked disturbed.

“That is your first name, and now that we’ve gotten to know each other, there’s no need to be so ‘formal’, as you once put it.” Kitt reminded him.

“I mean, yeah, but, you sure you’re okay with it? You just sounded so uncomfortable, and I don’t want to-”

“My apologies. Let me try again. Michael.”

It hurt as much the second time as it did the first, but he really tried to inject a little more joy into it this time.

In response, the man only rubbed the back of his head. Kitt could hardly stand the silence that followed.

“. . . you know, I think I like it better when you say my last name. It just rolls off the tongue, er, vocalizer better, don’t you agree?”

Kitt paused. He knew that Garibaldi didn’t actually mean it, but yet. . . he couldn’t help but feel relief.

“Thank you, Garibaldi.” Kitt whispered.

“That’s more like it.” He clapped his hands together and smiled. “Now, let’s get you out of here so we can tell everyone else the good news.”

“Yes, of course.”

Garibaldi came around his side before disappearing behind. Kitt’s frame was lifted from familiar ground. Once more did his visual sensors and gyroscopic stabilizers sway with the sensation of footsteps. It didn’t feel any less unnatural now than it had the first time, but this time he knew he was, quite literally, in good hands.

They left the techlab and, instead of hopping in the elevator, traveled down the long, gray hallway. Other people in varying uniforms- some matching Garibaldi’s, others matching the commander’s, others foreign- passed, each one giving a strange glance down to Kitt before traveling on. Garibaldi did not shy away from them and made no comments. They passed a particularly busy stretch of hallway before turning around a bend. They entered a formal-looking room. Against one wall was an official-looking insignia, a crest with a sword piercing the number 5, beneath which was a desk.

Behind that desk sat Sinclair. At their entry, the commander’s mouth turned upwards into a smile. He held up his commlink and muttered something into it before putting it down.

“Ivanova will be with us in a few. In the meantime, how’s our friend doing?” Sinclair asked.

“Jeff, you won’t believe the story Kitt has to tell.” Garibaldi replied, his voice coming from above.

“As commander of this station, I’d believe just about anything. That’s a mighty claim.”

Footsteps came from the entrance, and Garibaldi swiveled around, bringing Ivanova into view. Immediately, her eyes lit up.

“Hey, Kitt. Good to see you back in working order. At least one thing on this god-forsaken hunk is still functioning as it should.” She greeted.

“Hello Ivanova.” Kitt replied.

“Now, you two need to sit down and hear what Kitt has to say.” Garibaldi walked over to Sinclair’s desk and set Kitt down. 

Sinclair stood from his desk and came around to join the other two. The three stared down at Kitt. After a moment, Ivanova gave an impatient hum.

“Well, Kitt, tell it how it happened.” Garibaldi gestured to him.

“The thing is, I actually don’t know how it happened. For one thing, I don’t know how long I was out of commission after I shut down.”

Ivanova shrugged. “Well, we don’t know, exactly. By the time Michael and I got to you, you were already fried. What caused you to shut down?”

“There are many factors that contributed. The stress of interfacing with the station’s systems, along with the overclocking of my processing abilities to block the signals from reaching the Alpha bay doors-”

“You what? ” Ivanova gasped.

“I blocked the signals coming from the Alpha squadron fighters from connecting to the bay doors, preventing them from opening.” Kitt explained.

“How the hell did you get inside our system?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. . . how did you do that?” Garibaldi asked hesitantly.

Kitt paused. “I may have exploited the security deficiencies in your commlink, Garibaldi.”

“I’m damn glad you did, then! Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here.” 

“As am I.” Sinclair nodded.

“Okay, that’s great, but was it really that easy to hack? That could be a security concern.” Ivanova said.

“No. Remember that I’m one of the most advanced computer systems-”

“Or you were at one point.” Ivanova stipulated.

“Compared to that sorry excuse for a computer you call ‘Babcom’, I am!” Kitt rebutted.

“That’s fair. Go on, then. After you hacked the commlink, then what?” She asked.

“After that, I believe I connected with the mainframe of the entire station.” Kitt continued. “It was quite disorienting. To be entirely truthful, I don’t remember much of the experience.”

“What was disorienting about it?” Sinclair asked.

“I’m not sure I could explain it in terms you could understand, commander, but I appreciate your concern. Just know that the stress contributed to my ‘being fried’, as Ivanova put it.”

“I see.” He gave a nod. “I’m glad you were able to hold things together until the comms came back online.

“We all are.” Ivanova looked away. “The whole station owes you. You saved us from one hell of a nightmare.”

“Not to mention, you saved our friend.” Sinclair put his hand on Garibaldi’s shoulder.

Garibaldi nodded and shot a grateful glance at Kitt.

“It makes you wonder if having a backup computer system would be a good idea. No, not just a backup, but someone who could operate in the system like that. It’d be a hell of a lot more efficient then what we’ve got now. . .” Ivanova started to pace.

“Now, now, Susan. Don’t get too ahead of yourself.” Sinclair warned. 

“Yeah, it sounds like you’re volunteering Kitt for a job.” Garibaldi added.

The mere idea of another job sent something fluttering through Kitt’s processor. He wasn’t sure if it was excitement, guilt, fear, or anticipation, but either way he knew he couldn’t stay silent.

“Ivanova, although I’m flattered, I’m afraid I’ll have to turn down your offer. If I was to be employed here, I’d be much more effective working in security.” He said.

“Is that so?” Sinclair raised a hint of an eyebrow.

“Sinclair, I believe you were the one that asked me to look out for your security chief. I would like a chance to uphold that request.” Kitt said.

Garibaldi looked to Sinclair, before smiling back at him. “I’d be happy to have you.”

“I like this idea, but we’d have to keep you a secret from the rest of the security team.” Sinclair put a hand on his chin. “While I do have control over this station, station security is responsible for enforcing Earth Alliance laws. I don’t know how many of them would turn you in if given the chance.”

“Not an issue, Commander. I’m experienced with hiding in plain sight, and you already know I’m quite adept at passing myself as human over a comm call.”

“Heh, give you a phone call with the president and you could Turing-test your way into his office, I’m sure.” Ivanova muttered.

“Thank you, Ivanova. So are you offering me a job, Commander?”

Sinclair paused, alternating his gaze from Kitt to Garibaldi. “I believe that’s up to you, Michael.”

“That’s a ‘hell yes’ from me, sir.” 

Garibaldi looked at him expectantly, his eyes full of hope. There was only a single thought on Kitt’s processor, and it was that Micheal would approve of this choice.

“I accept.” Kitt said.

Garibaldi’s smile erased any doubts that remained.

Ivanova gave an approving nod. “It’s going to be great having someone working IT.”

“Oh come on, he’s going to be helping me solve cases, not-”

  “In order to do my job more effectively, Commander,” Kitt interrupted. “I’d like access at least to the comm channels and preferably a connection to the whole onboard system- through access of another computer, not a direct integration. Is this alright with you?”

“One step at a time. We should take this slow so as to not overwhelm you. Babylon 5 is a hectic place, and there’s many aspects to this job that aren’t immediately apparent.” Sinclair replied.

“Very well. When do I start?”

“Okay, Kitt, remember: go easy. Remember that last time you entered the system you fried yourself.”

“Don’t worry, Garibaldi. That was back when I was unprepared.”

Garibaldi still grit his teeth despite the reassurance. The little black box containing Kitt sitting on the desk in security central looked just as fragile as ever, and the memory of it looking lifeless on the table in his room was still fresh in his mind.

“Are you absolutely sure?” He asked.

“Positive, Garibaldi. Now that I’m accessing it through a computer instead of directly through your hacked comm channels, the load will be much easier to bear. I can do it. I am prepared.” Kitt repeated.

“Alright, go ahead.”

Garibaldi was tempted to retract his statement, but he knew it was probably already too late. Kitt’s lights bobbed silently up and down, showing just a hint of all the internal processing stuff he must be experiencing.

“Kitt, you okay?”

For a moment there was no response, sending his heart rate through the roof, but then, Kitt’s voice came from speakers all around.

“I’ve established the connection. There’s a lot to process, but I’m alright.”

“I see you’ve found the PA system.” 

“I’m only accessing the speakers for this room, don’t worry.” Kitt added.

Garibaldi chuckled. “Good.”

“There’s an incredible quantity of things I can access, but all of the basic functions are the same. Doors, ventilation control, communications. Instead of one central cabin, there’s thousands. It helps if I only focus on one at a time.”

“‘Cabin’?”

“Yes, cabins. Passenger compartments, if you will. Babylon 5 is essentially one large, orbiting vehicle, but it’s still a vehicle.” Kitt replied.

“Was that your old body? Some kind of vehicle?” Garibaldi tried to think of what Kitt could have possibly been. A drone? A military fighter jet?

“Did I never tell you?” Kitt asked with a hint of laughter. “Ironic, since it is such a large part of my programmed functions. My microprocessor was originally housed in a modified 1982 Pontiac Trans Am.”

“Wait wait wait,” Garibaldi couldn’t believe his ears. “Isn’t that a. . . you were a car? ”

“Yes.”

And at that, he lost it. He devolved into a giggling fit.

“What’s so funny?” Kitt sounded completely indignant.

“I don’t- I don’t know, just, I wasn’t expecting a car?” Garibaldi had trouble catching his breath.

“Not just any car. I was state of the art and had a variety of features that other cars could only dream of. For example, I had a molecular-bonded shell, rendering me immune to almost all physical damage. I was also capable of a function called turboboost, that allowed me to propel myself in the air.”

“So that’s why you were asking me if cars nowadays could jump?”

“Yes. You told me they can’t. Therefore, I’m still more technologically advanced than they are.” Kitt said smugly.

Garibaldi shook his head. “Why would a car need to jump, anyway?”

“Lots of reasons. You’d be surprised. Although, my former partner had a penchant for abusing it for a cheap thrill every now and then.” Kitt grew quieter.

“So, he was your driver.” Garibaldi matched his volume.

“Yes. I suppose that’s something you’ll never get to experience.”

Garibaldi walked back over to where Kitt’s processor lay on the table, and put a hand on top. He wasn’t exactly sure if Kitt could feel the gesture, and he hoped it communicated the comfort that he didn’t have the words to say.

“It's alright,” Kitt eventually spoke again. “I’ll get to show you my capabilities in ways he never could imagine.”

“You will.” Garibaldi concurred.

The lights in the room dimmed, then came back to full intensity. Garibaldi heard the air circulation fan speed up and then slow down. The door leading out to the rest of the station opened.

“I think I’ve ‘got the hang of’ the basics, as they say.” Kitt returned back to his regular volume. 

“Yeah, just be careful. Let’s not give anyone up in C and C a heart attack by opening doors willy nilly.”

“Of course. I’ll only close doors if you instruct me to, or if I find it necessary. I’ve also got access to the air locks, which may come in handy.”

“ Definitely don’t go tripping those.” Garibaldi wagged his finger

“Of course not! Not without good reason. Did I also mention that my former form had ejection seats? I certainly did not activate the driver’s side ejection seat without very good reason. It’s the same concept.”

“Ejection seats? Now you’re just pulling my leg.”

“I am not ‘pulling your leg’, as you say. I’m being perfectly serious.”

“Right, next you’re going to tell me you had a parachute in the roof and a flamethrower out of your exhaust pipe.”

“Well,” Kitt paused, “while I had both of those features, that’s beside the point-”

“Now that is bullshit.” 

“I’m being completely serious!”

“No way, I don’t believe you.”

Garibaldi burst out laughing again, and even Kitt’s protests turned into small chuckles. Together they laughed, and when their laughter died out, they stayed in a pleasant silence.

“Garibaldi?” Kitt asked quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

The AI’s voice was barely a whisper, but it contained everything and more.