Kansas 2 - The Yellow Brick Road, Part 17
Title: Kansas 2 - The Yellow Brick Road
Author: Soledad
Author’s notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc., see the secondary index page.
Some of the dialogue is directly taken from the episode “Shadow Dancing”. I just swapped the lines around a bit among the various characters to serve my purpose better.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
PART 17 - 14 December 2260
Barely had Rastenn left when Neroon received a call - from Delenn, none less.
“I am about to return to the Council Chamber to receive the League’s decision,” she said. “I would like you to join me; your presence was helpful last time, and I might need all the help I can get.”
Neroon inclined his head. “Of course. As you said, we need to present a united front; even if the rest of the Warrior Caste chooses not to support my decision.”
“Thank you,” she seemed genuinely grateful, perhaps for the first time since they had known each other. Neroon could not suppress a bit of smugness but was diplomatic enough not to show it.
“We all live to serve,” he said smoothly before breaking the connection.
Which was the simple truth for every Minbari. He left his quarters, heading for the Council Chamber.
He found Delenn already there upon his arrival - but no-one else. For a moment his heart sank, and Delenn’s face - much easier to read since her transformation - mirrored naked despair. Neroon couldn’t blame her. Without the support of the League, the White Stars, relying more on speed and skill than on firepower, wouldn’t stand a chance. The few warships Clan Star Riders could spare would not be enough.
After a moment, though, something moved in the dimly lit room and the bulky shape of the Drazi ambassador emerged from the otherwise empty pews.
“The others have gone to speak with their governments,” he said simply. “They have authorized me to speak in their place. You will have all the ships we can spare, Delenn. I only hope that you are right, because it would cost us greatly if you are wrong.”
“She is not wrong,” Neroon replied, giving Delenn a moment to get her relief under control.
The Drazi shot him a baleful look. “Why don’t we see any warships of your Caste then, Alyt Neroon?”
“Because they are on their way already,” Neroon answered calmly.
The statement silenced the Drazi, and after a lengthy pause he simply turned around and left them alone.
“Did you tell him the truth?” Delenn asked. “Will the Warrior Caste join us in Sector 83?”
Neroon sighed. “Not the Caste as a whole, I am afraid. But I summoned as many warships as my Clan can spare; and the Moon Shields signalled their willingness to help. Unfortunately, their fleet is positioned at the other end of our sector; they might not arrive in time.”
“Still, every single ship with trained Warriors on board will count,” Delenn said. “But how are you going to explain your presence without the Shai Alyt’s direct orders? You may be accused of undermining his authority.”
“Not if our ships are racing to rescue my heir,” Neroon replied with a grim smile and Delenn nodded in understanding.
“So that is why you’re sending him with the scout ship. Ingenious move. It won’t be easy for him, though, sending a distress call. Not with Ivanova breathing down his neck. She will mistrust him for the mere reason that he is your heir.”
“I hope that he will come to an understanding with Anla’shok Cole,” Neroon admitted. “They are both resourceful enough to see it done; and if anyone, Marcus Cole will believe that our intention to help is genuine.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To say that Janeway was not happy about Tuvok’s decision to go with the White Star scout ship to Sector 83 would have been the understatement of the century. She was positively furious; more so with Tuvok of whom she would have expected to support her attitude towards this foreign universe than she would be with anyone else.
“Just which part of non-interference does he not understand?” she fumed. “It is bad enough that we’ve got involved in the conflict between Babylon 5 and those Nightwatch people; now we’re supposed to pick a fight with these Shadow creatures as well?”
“It isn’t us who pick a fight,” Chakotay replied dryly. “As far as I understand the facts, these Shadows attack everyone on principle; everyone not already on their paylist, that is.”
“And who can be sure that their side is the wrong side?” Janeway asked. “We only have the word of the Minbari for that; and they are but the tools of the Vorlons. Let me tell you, Commander: what little we’ve seen from Babylon 5’s resident Vorlon so far doesn’t induce a great deal of trust in me.”
“Not in me, either,” Chakotay agreed. He’d been just released from Sickbay and was still weak like a kitten, restricted to light duty; which currently meant serving as the sounding board fort he captain. “I cannot shake the feeling that the Vorlons and the Shadows are but the two sides of the same coin and both equally dangerous to cross.”
“What makes the difference then?” Janeway muttered.
Chakotay shrugged… very, very carefully. The newly grown muscles still needed some practice, even for the simplest everyday functions.
“In my eyes?” he clarified. “Their allies. I find the Minbari an honourable species, even if their rigid moral principles and traditionalism can lead them down a terribly wrong path if they aren’t careful. A bit like Vulcans, really. Their intentions seem good, though. Besides, so far I haven’t heard of the Vorlons attacking and destroying entire worlds just because they can. So I’d consider them the lesser evil, at least for the time being.”
“We shouldn’t be involved in this war,” Janeway insisted. “This isn’t our fight; this isn’t even our universe.”
“True,” Chakotay allowed. “Yet we are here now, for who knows how long, and under the circumstances I’m afraid we don’t have the luxury of remaining neutral.”
“I won’t allow Voyager to enter the fight,” Janeway stated categorically.
Chakotay nodded. “I agree. We could change the balance of power; or we could be destroyed. There’s no way to know what those Shadow ships can do, not before we’d actually encounter one. But we could allow those who want to partake in this fight to volunteer.”
“You mean the Maquis,” Janeway said with an unhappy grimace.
“No, not only the Maquis,” Chakotay replied coldly. “There are quite a few among the Fleeters as well who are eager to help our fellow humans. I suggest that we allow them to do so… or else some might decide to leave Voyager and join Captain Sheridan’s forces for good.”
Janeway stared at him in shock. “You are serious.”
“Very serious,” Chakotay said. “You must understand them, Captain. The Earth of this universe is not necessarily the place where I would like to live. But in the eyes of the crew, at least the humans among them, they’re among their own people here, no matter the circumstance. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them chose to remain here, even if we do find a way home.”
“But why would they do that?” Janeway shook her head in bewilderment.
Chakotay shrugged. “Because back in the Delta Quadrant all they have got is a vague hope. Here they have something real, even if it isn’t their reality. If you want names, I expect Jarvin would want to stay in this universe. In fact, I'd bet on it.”
“Why Jarvin? “ Janeway asked.
“He's been more uncomfortable about being on a Starfleet ship than most of the Maquis,” Chakotay explained. “And he's gotten involved with a young woman from Quantum Mechanics. I think they'd like to settle down, raise a family.”
“If we want to theorize, the person I’d expect to stay is Baxter,” Janeway said thoughtfully.
“Baxter!” Chakotay exclaimed. “Walter Baxter?“
“He's adventurous, a risk-taker,” Janeway pointed out. “I can see him wanting to take on the challenge of building a new life in this alternate reality.”
Chakotay considered the possibility for a moment. “I'd hate to loose Baxter,” he then declared. “He's a good man; not only an excellent security officer but he maintains an interest in several scientific areas, including archaeology and geology.”
“And I'd hate to loose Jarvin,” Janeway countered. “I don't want to loose anyone. We've all been through so much together, it wouldn't seem right.”
“Perhaps not,” Chakotay allowed. “But I couldn't blame anyone for staying behind.”
“What about you?” Janeway asked after a meaningful pause.
“Oh, I’d definitely prefer returning to our own reality,” Chakotay replied. “I’m still hoping that we’ll find a way home - to our home. There are people counting on me: family, friends, brothers-in-arms. I won’t abandon them if there’s a chance to get back. Besides,” he added with a self-deprecating grin, “in my current state I’d be of no use in a battle.”
“You’d be of much use for me, though, if you’d deal with the volunteers,” Janeway sighed. “Frankly, I could save face through that, and it would give me the time to meet Ambassador Mollari.”
Chakotay raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Oh? You’ve changed your mind about that? What happened?”
“His wife happened,” Janeway confessed. “She showed up in the docking bay, determined to camp out there until I talked to her and believe me, she would have done so, even if it took her days… or weeks.”
“She must have an extraordinarily strong will if she manages to live with Londo Mollari, given the things that we’ve heard about him,” Chakotay commented.
“They don’t actually live together,” Janeway corrected wryly. “According to her, the secret of their successful marriage is as little personal contact as possible. But yes, she is a remarkable personality with no illusions towards her husband whatsoever.”
“And you’re willing to meet Ambassador Mollari nonetheless?”
“Yes, I think it’s necessary. Lady Timov told me a few things about the Centauri court and the current Emperor that persuaded me that supporting Londo Mollari in keeping his current position would be in the best interest of all parties involved.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
C&C seemed strangely… abandoned without the strong presence of Ivanova, Sheridan thought, as he entered the place and occupied the position usually held by his second-in-command. In Susan’s absence her aide, Lt. Corwin was in charge; and it was Corwin who turned to Sheridan, as soon as he entered the room.
“Captain, I’ve Commander Ivanova on Channel 4.”
Sheridan sighed. Ivanova was aboard the White Star already, with Rastenn, Marcus, the enigmatic Vulcan from Voyager and a skeleton Minbari crew, ready to go.
“Put her through,” he ordered.
Corwin did as he was told and Ivanova’s image appeared on the main communications screen. She was sitting in the command chair, with Marcus at her side, looking a bit tense. Which, considering the nature of her mission, was understandable.
“We're ready to go, captain," she reported. “Any last-minute instructions?”
Sheridan shook his head. “Aside from an old Egyptian blessing, I can't think of a thing.”
Ivanova gave him a terse nod. “Then we'll see you… when we see you,” she raised her voice. “Full ahead.”
Marcus repeated the order in Adronato - the crew exclusively belonged to the Religious Caste - and the ship pulled away from the station.
Tuvok, standing out from the elaborately robed Minbari like a sore thumb in his utilitarian black and gold uniform, turned to Ivanova with a raised eyebrow.
“An old Egyptian blessing?” he echoed.
"May God stand between you and harm in all the empty places where you must walk," she quoted.
The inquiring Vulcan eyebrow climbed even higher.
“Fascinating. Do humans of your time still believe that their well-being is dependent on the mercy of higher beings?”
“On occasion, yes,” Marcus replied in Ivanova’s stead. “Why? Don’t Vulcans believe in higher beings?”
“Not in the manner you do,” Tuvok explained. “All Vulcans are born with the ability of directly experiencing the immanent power that holds together the universe; a power called A’tha in ancient High Vulcan. However, we never anthropomorphised this power the way humans - or indeed many other sentient species - trend to do. It has been our experience that it does not interfere with the events of our lives; except of keeping the universe intact and functional, that is.”
Rastenn, listening to the conversation from the position of a visiting observer, watched with mild amusement as the humans struggled to grasp the meaning of that enormous statement. Before either of them could have reflected to the Vulcan’s revelations, though - if, indeed, they would find the words - the jumpgate opened right in front of them and the White Star jumped to hyperspace.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Neroon watched the departure of the scout ship from the tactical centre of the Ingata, together with his senior staff. Not all of those were Warriors - his personal aide, for one, was of Worker Caste, and his chief healer Religious - but all were Star Riders, members of the Clan that had been led by his family from the dawn of time.
“And so it begins,” he intoned before turning to Siarann, his second-in-command. “Any news from our ships?”
“They will reach position at about the same time when the White Star arrives at Sector 83,” she reported. “The Alyts have pressed the engines to the limits. They know they cannot afford to be late.”
Neroon nodded in satisfaction. He expected nothing less from the Warriors he had hand-picked to command the best warships of the Clan.
“What about the crew?” he asked. “Are there any questions about our lingering at Babylon 5?”
“They are wondering,” Siarann admitted. “I told them that we are expecting an encounter with a dangerous, unknown enemy - which is the truth, for who among us can say that they know the Sher’shok Dum and what they are capable of? - and Rastenn went ahead to scout the territory for us. Which is also the truth.”
“How do they feel about us working with Delenn and the humans?” Neroon asked.
This time it was his aide who answered. “They are somewhat surprised, Alyt, but they trust you to act in the best interest of Clan and Caste. We all do.”
“They must be bewildered, though,” Neroon said. “I am well known for my express dislike for both Delenn and the humans. They must also know that I let the human Anla’shok live after denn’sha, dishonouring myself by doing so.”
“Everyone on Minbar knows that by now,” his aide replied dryly. “But we of the Clan also know your reasons; and we know that you have made amends through revelation and trying to right the wrongs you have caused. We respect that and trust that you know what you are doing. As for the rest: understanding is not required; only obedience.”
Neroon nodded gratefully. He had always known that his crew was loyal to a fault, but in this particular case, when he saw himself forced to make the most unusual alliances for Minbar’s sake, their support was invaluable.”
“Very well,” he said. “Have the ship prepared for battle. We shall leave the station as soon as the full system’s check has run its course.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Janeway had the meeting with the Centauri ambassador arranged through Vir, who usually made Londo’s appointments for him. Said meeting was scheduled right after her check-in with Chakotay and took place on Babylon 5, in a small conference room of Blue Sector. She didn’t want the man who, according to Sheridan and his allies, was associated with their enemy, to see Voyager. Granted, his wife had already done so, but Lady Timov clearly wasn’t a person of great technical knowledge (or interest), so that was an acceptable risk. Allowing Mollari direct access to 24th century Starfleet technology would not be.
Thus a conference room it was, and Janeway made the precaution to take Ensign Jurot with her. It might not be entirely fair to have a telepath present - and a Betazoid at that, whose people didn’t have any qualms to read other people’s thoughts - but she had the impression that Londo Mollari was dangerous and anything but straightforward.
Granted, Ambassador Delenn had pointed out several past occasions when Mollari had proved helpful; even a decent person. But that had been in the past and - according to his own wife - the exception, not the rule. And his association with those Shadow creatures and the horrible consequences of said association - for the Narn, for Vir Cotto personally and for people back on the Centauri homeworld - made Janeway extremely wary towards him. She might have accepted Lady Timov’s word that it was in everybody’s best interest to keep Mollari in his current position because every alternative would have been much worse; but it didn’t mean that she liked to have part of it.
She checked her appearance in the mirror. Her dress uniform - a concession to the diplomatic situation - was immaculate, every single hair on her head in place. Good. She had been told that in the eyes of the Centauri appearances were important; she wanted to make a lasting first impression.
“Come on, Ensign,” she said to Jurot who, also in dress uniform, was waiting at the door. “Let’s face the inevitable.”
“Aye, Captain,” Crisa Jurot replied dutifully and followed her commanding officer to the turbolift, hiding her dismay with practiced ease.
Not that she would be as reluctant to poke around in other people’s heads as Vulcans were - far from it, she was a Betazoid, after all - but she had originally made other plans. Plans that would have been more fun than trying to figure out the truth beneath multiple layers of lies offered by the Centauri ambassador. But, as her room-mate at the Academy used to say (she was of German origins and had the oddest comments sometimes), duty was duty and schnapps was schnapps, and one should not mix one with the other.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Having parted ways with Delenn, Neroon sought out Sheridan’s company to inform him about the League’s willingness to support them with ships. The human quickly read through the report but didn’t seem happy with it. On the contrary.
“They're still holding back!” he declared in angry disappointment.
Neroon nodded. “Of course they do. They are afraid, Sheridan, and unlike you, they have a lot to loose, weakening the defences of their respective homeworlds.”
“None of the ships they’re holding back would do them any good if we don’t stop the Shadows before they could reach those homeworlds,” Sheridan muttered angrily.
Neroon nodded again. “I know that and you know that and Delenn knows that; but all they have is our word. With the possible exception of the Narn, no-one of them has ever had directly to do with the Sher’shok Dum. It is understandable that they would want to keep the illusion of safety; even if it is ultimately futile.”
Sheridan checked the numbers of the offered ships and shook his head in dismay. “This is still not enough. Far from it.”
“It will have to do,” Neroon replied philosophically. “Getting them was hard enough. We should not waste any time now, that we finally have them, though. Keeping them as this drags on, that is going to be really hard. The Ingata and the Dogato are standing by, waiting for us. As soon as we are aboard, they will join the rest of the fleet.”
“I still think Delenn should stay here,” Sheridan muttered as they left his office and were heading for the docking bays. “I mean... Ivanova, Marcus, and me gone, Garibaldi will be up to his ears, with the combat pilots, Franklin’s still on walkabout...”
“She cannot,” Neroon interrupted. “She is more than just the representative of Minbar on Babylon 5. She is Entil’zha, the leader of the Anla’shok; it is her duty and her privilege to lead them in battle. Besides, she is not as fragile as she might seem to you. By all due respect to your protective instincts, she was Satai, just like me, used to make choices that could decide the fate of entire planets. She has the strength and the determination to deal with this.”
“I’m not questioning her strength,” Sheridan said unhappily. “It’s just… I find it hard to see a woman to whom I’ve become close to walk into deadly peril with her eyes wide open.”
“Close?” Neroon echoed, alarm bells beginning to ring in his mind as he tried to put together the signs he had half-consciously noticed lately to a complete picture. “Just how close have the two of you become, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Actually, I do,” Sheridan returned dryly, “but if you are willing to give me some answers I might be ready to overlook the indiscretion. The question is: are you willing?”
“It depends on the nature of the answers you require,” Neroon said evasively.
The last thing he wanted was to discuss Minbari traditions with Starkiller, of all people. But he, too, needed information about Delenn’s further plans, so making concessions might be necessary.
Sheridan gave him a doubtful look, as if he could guess what Neroon was thinking, but in the end his curiosity won over his doubts.
“She said something about watching me sleep in three nights in a row?” he said uncertainly. “Is that a religious tradition of some sort?”
“Yes,” Neroon replied as blandly as he could, while his mind was awhirl with the possible ramifications. “During the day, we all put on the face we think will do us the most good. But at a certain point in your sleep, as you relax, your true face is revealed.”
“I still don’t understand,” Sheridan admitted; and really, it wasn’t his fault. Humans were just too different.
Therefore Neroon tried a different approach, without revealing that which was not his to reveal.
“She will watch you for one night first,” he explained carefully. “If she approves of your true face, she will stay two more nights and continue to observe.”
Sheridan frowned, still not getting the full ramifications and how could he? He was not a Minbari, nor did he have a Minbari soul - that much appeared painfully obvious - and he lacked the necessary references, too.
“What if she doesn't like what she sees?” he asked.
“Then you will go your separate ways,” Neroon replied airily, as if they were talking about a light romp in human fashion.
The human really did not need to know that there might be anything else; not from him anyway. Delenn had started this whole disaster; it was up to her to come clear.
Sheridan wasn’t done just yet, though.
“What if she does like what she sees?” he asked.
“In that case the two of you will have to decide how to continue with things,” Neroon said grimly. “I strongly suggest that you ask her about the Alien Prohibition, though, before you get involved in any further rituals. It would spare you a great deal of headache.”
He refused to say more, no matter how much the human insisted, more so as they had to head for their respective shuttles to take them to their ships. But as he was piloting the Alota towards his warship, Neroon had to withstand the urge to bang his head against the instrumental board.
What in Valen’s name was Delenn thinking, initiating a courtship with a clueless human at the brink of a devastating war? And not just with any human but with Starkiller himself! Even if the Alien Prohibition were no longer valid - although it still was, very much so - her family would never allow this… this mockery.
Not to mention what Sheridan would say if he were aware of Delenn’s pivotal role in the Earth-Minbari war.
“Oh, Delenn,” he muttered to himself,” you really know how to stir things up!”
Author: Soledad
Author’s notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc., see the secondary index page.
Some of the dialogue is directly taken from the episode “Shadow Dancing”. I just swapped the lines around a bit among the various characters to serve my purpose better.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
PART 17 - 14 December 2260
Barely had Rastenn left when Neroon received a call - from Delenn, none less.
“I am about to return to the Council Chamber to receive the League’s decision,” she said. “I would like you to join me; your presence was helpful last time, and I might need all the help I can get.”
Neroon inclined his head. “Of course. As you said, we need to present a united front; even if the rest of the Warrior Caste chooses not to support my decision.”
“Thank you,” she seemed genuinely grateful, perhaps for the first time since they had known each other. Neroon could not suppress a bit of smugness but was diplomatic enough not to show it.
“We all live to serve,” he said smoothly before breaking the connection.
Which was the simple truth for every Minbari. He left his quarters, heading for the Council Chamber.
He found Delenn already there upon his arrival - but no-one else. For a moment his heart sank, and Delenn’s face - much easier to read since her transformation - mirrored naked despair. Neroon couldn’t blame her. Without the support of the League, the White Stars, relying more on speed and skill than on firepower, wouldn’t stand a chance. The few warships Clan Star Riders could spare would not be enough.
After a moment, though, something moved in the dimly lit room and the bulky shape of the Drazi ambassador emerged from the otherwise empty pews.
“The others have gone to speak with their governments,” he said simply. “They have authorized me to speak in their place. You will have all the ships we can spare, Delenn. I only hope that you are right, because it would cost us greatly if you are wrong.”
“She is not wrong,” Neroon replied, giving Delenn a moment to get her relief under control.
The Drazi shot him a baleful look. “Why don’t we see any warships of your Caste then, Alyt Neroon?”
“Because they are on their way already,” Neroon answered calmly.
The statement silenced the Drazi, and after a lengthy pause he simply turned around and left them alone.
“Did you tell him the truth?” Delenn asked. “Will the Warrior Caste join us in Sector 83?”
Neroon sighed. “Not the Caste as a whole, I am afraid. But I summoned as many warships as my Clan can spare; and the Moon Shields signalled their willingness to help. Unfortunately, their fleet is positioned at the other end of our sector; they might not arrive in time.”
“Still, every single ship with trained Warriors on board will count,” Delenn said. “But how are you going to explain your presence without the Shai Alyt’s direct orders? You may be accused of undermining his authority.”
“Not if our ships are racing to rescue my heir,” Neroon replied with a grim smile and Delenn nodded in understanding.
“So that is why you’re sending him with the scout ship. Ingenious move. It won’t be easy for him, though, sending a distress call. Not with Ivanova breathing down his neck. She will mistrust him for the mere reason that he is your heir.”
“I hope that he will come to an understanding with Anla’shok Cole,” Neroon admitted. “They are both resourceful enough to see it done; and if anyone, Marcus Cole will believe that our intention to help is genuine.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To say that Janeway was not happy about Tuvok’s decision to go with the White Star scout ship to Sector 83 would have been the understatement of the century. She was positively furious; more so with Tuvok of whom she would have expected to support her attitude towards this foreign universe than she would be with anyone else.
“Just which part of non-interference does he not understand?” she fumed. “It is bad enough that we’ve got involved in the conflict between Babylon 5 and those Nightwatch people; now we’re supposed to pick a fight with these Shadow creatures as well?”
“It isn’t us who pick a fight,” Chakotay replied dryly. “As far as I understand the facts, these Shadows attack everyone on principle; everyone not already on their paylist, that is.”
“And who can be sure that their side is the wrong side?” Janeway asked. “We only have the word of the Minbari for that; and they are but the tools of the Vorlons. Let me tell you, Commander: what little we’ve seen from Babylon 5’s resident Vorlon so far doesn’t induce a great deal of trust in me.”
“Not in me, either,” Chakotay agreed. He’d been just released from Sickbay and was still weak like a kitten, restricted to light duty; which currently meant serving as the sounding board fort he captain. “I cannot shake the feeling that the Vorlons and the Shadows are but the two sides of the same coin and both equally dangerous to cross.”
“What makes the difference then?” Janeway muttered.
Chakotay shrugged… very, very carefully. The newly grown muscles still needed some practice, even for the simplest everyday functions.
“In my eyes?” he clarified. “Their allies. I find the Minbari an honourable species, even if their rigid moral principles and traditionalism can lead them down a terribly wrong path if they aren’t careful. A bit like Vulcans, really. Their intentions seem good, though. Besides, so far I haven’t heard of the Vorlons attacking and destroying entire worlds just because they can. So I’d consider them the lesser evil, at least for the time being.”
“We shouldn’t be involved in this war,” Janeway insisted. “This isn’t our fight; this isn’t even our universe.”
“True,” Chakotay allowed. “Yet we are here now, for who knows how long, and under the circumstances I’m afraid we don’t have the luxury of remaining neutral.”
“I won’t allow Voyager to enter the fight,” Janeway stated categorically.
Chakotay nodded. “I agree. We could change the balance of power; or we could be destroyed. There’s no way to know what those Shadow ships can do, not before we’d actually encounter one. But we could allow those who want to partake in this fight to volunteer.”
“You mean the Maquis,” Janeway said with an unhappy grimace.
“No, not only the Maquis,” Chakotay replied coldly. “There are quite a few among the Fleeters as well who are eager to help our fellow humans. I suggest that we allow them to do so… or else some might decide to leave Voyager and join Captain Sheridan’s forces for good.”
Janeway stared at him in shock. “You are serious.”
“Very serious,” Chakotay said. “You must understand them, Captain. The Earth of this universe is not necessarily the place where I would like to live. But in the eyes of the crew, at least the humans among them, they’re among their own people here, no matter the circumstance. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them chose to remain here, even if we do find a way home.”
“But why would they do that?” Janeway shook her head in bewilderment.
Chakotay shrugged. “Because back in the Delta Quadrant all they have got is a vague hope. Here they have something real, even if it isn’t their reality. If you want names, I expect Jarvin would want to stay in this universe. In fact, I'd bet on it.”
“Why Jarvin? “ Janeway asked.
“He's been more uncomfortable about being on a Starfleet ship than most of the Maquis,” Chakotay explained. “And he's gotten involved with a young woman from Quantum Mechanics. I think they'd like to settle down, raise a family.”
“If we want to theorize, the person I’d expect to stay is Baxter,” Janeway said thoughtfully.
“Baxter!” Chakotay exclaimed. “Walter Baxter?“
“He's adventurous, a risk-taker,” Janeway pointed out. “I can see him wanting to take on the challenge of building a new life in this alternate reality.”
Chakotay considered the possibility for a moment. “I'd hate to loose Baxter,” he then declared. “He's a good man; not only an excellent security officer but he maintains an interest in several scientific areas, including archaeology and geology.”
“And I'd hate to loose Jarvin,” Janeway countered. “I don't want to loose anyone. We've all been through so much together, it wouldn't seem right.”
“Perhaps not,” Chakotay allowed. “But I couldn't blame anyone for staying behind.”
“What about you?” Janeway asked after a meaningful pause.
“Oh, I’d definitely prefer returning to our own reality,” Chakotay replied. “I’m still hoping that we’ll find a way home - to our home. There are people counting on me: family, friends, brothers-in-arms. I won’t abandon them if there’s a chance to get back. Besides,” he added with a self-deprecating grin, “in my current state I’d be of no use in a battle.”
“You’d be of much use for me, though, if you’d deal with the volunteers,” Janeway sighed. “Frankly, I could save face through that, and it would give me the time to meet Ambassador Mollari.”
Chakotay raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Oh? You’ve changed your mind about that? What happened?”
“His wife happened,” Janeway confessed. “She showed up in the docking bay, determined to camp out there until I talked to her and believe me, she would have done so, even if it took her days… or weeks.”
“She must have an extraordinarily strong will if she manages to live with Londo Mollari, given the things that we’ve heard about him,” Chakotay commented.
“They don’t actually live together,” Janeway corrected wryly. “According to her, the secret of their successful marriage is as little personal contact as possible. But yes, she is a remarkable personality with no illusions towards her husband whatsoever.”
“And you’re willing to meet Ambassador Mollari nonetheless?”
“Yes, I think it’s necessary. Lady Timov told me a few things about the Centauri court and the current Emperor that persuaded me that supporting Londo Mollari in keeping his current position would be in the best interest of all parties involved.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
C&C seemed strangely… abandoned without the strong presence of Ivanova, Sheridan thought, as he entered the place and occupied the position usually held by his second-in-command. In Susan’s absence her aide, Lt. Corwin was in charge; and it was Corwin who turned to Sheridan, as soon as he entered the room.
“Captain, I’ve Commander Ivanova on Channel 4.”
Sheridan sighed. Ivanova was aboard the White Star already, with Rastenn, Marcus, the enigmatic Vulcan from Voyager and a skeleton Minbari crew, ready to go.
“Put her through,” he ordered.
Corwin did as he was told and Ivanova’s image appeared on the main communications screen. She was sitting in the command chair, with Marcus at her side, looking a bit tense. Which, considering the nature of her mission, was understandable.
“We're ready to go, captain," she reported. “Any last-minute instructions?”
Sheridan shook his head. “Aside from an old Egyptian blessing, I can't think of a thing.”
Ivanova gave him a terse nod. “Then we'll see you… when we see you,” she raised her voice. “Full ahead.”
Marcus repeated the order in Adronato - the crew exclusively belonged to the Religious Caste - and the ship pulled away from the station.
Tuvok, standing out from the elaborately robed Minbari like a sore thumb in his utilitarian black and gold uniform, turned to Ivanova with a raised eyebrow.
“An old Egyptian blessing?” he echoed.
"May God stand between you and harm in all the empty places where you must walk," she quoted.
The inquiring Vulcan eyebrow climbed even higher.
“Fascinating. Do humans of your time still believe that their well-being is dependent on the mercy of higher beings?”
“On occasion, yes,” Marcus replied in Ivanova’s stead. “Why? Don’t Vulcans believe in higher beings?”
“Not in the manner you do,” Tuvok explained. “All Vulcans are born with the ability of directly experiencing the immanent power that holds together the universe; a power called A’tha in ancient High Vulcan. However, we never anthropomorphised this power the way humans - or indeed many other sentient species - trend to do. It has been our experience that it does not interfere with the events of our lives; except of keeping the universe intact and functional, that is.”
Rastenn, listening to the conversation from the position of a visiting observer, watched with mild amusement as the humans struggled to grasp the meaning of that enormous statement. Before either of them could have reflected to the Vulcan’s revelations, though - if, indeed, they would find the words - the jumpgate opened right in front of them and the White Star jumped to hyperspace.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Neroon watched the departure of the scout ship from the tactical centre of the Ingata, together with his senior staff. Not all of those were Warriors - his personal aide, for one, was of Worker Caste, and his chief healer Religious - but all were Star Riders, members of the Clan that had been led by his family from the dawn of time.
“And so it begins,” he intoned before turning to Siarann, his second-in-command. “Any news from our ships?”
“They will reach position at about the same time when the White Star arrives at Sector 83,” she reported. “The Alyts have pressed the engines to the limits. They know they cannot afford to be late.”
Neroon nodded in satisfaction. He expected nothing less from the Warriors he had hand-picked to command the best warships of the Clan.
“What about the crew?” he asked. “Are there any questions about our lingering at Babylon 5?”
“They are wondering,” Siarann admitted. “I told them that we are expecting an encounter with a dangerous, unknown enemy - which is the truth, for who among us can say that they know the Sher’shok Dum and what they are capable of? - and Rastenn went ahead to scout the territory for us. Which is also the truth.”
“How do they feel about us working with Delenn and the humans?” Neroon asked.
This time it was his aide who answered. “They are somewhat surprised, Alyt, but they trust you to act in the best interest of Clan and Caste. We all do.”
“They must be bewildered, though,” Neroon said. “I am well known for my express dislike for both Delenn and the humans. They must also know that I let the human Anla’shok live after denn’sha, dishonouring myself by doing so.”
“Everyone on Minbar knows that by now,” his aide replied dryly. “But we of the Clan also know your reasons; and we know that you have made amends through revelation and trying to right the wrongs you have caused. We respect that and trust that you know what you are doing. As for the rest: understanding is not required; only obedience.”
Neroon nodded gratefully. He had always known that his crew was loyal to a fault, but in this particular case, when he saw himself forced to make the most unusual alliances for Minbar’s sake, their support was invaluable.”
“Very well,” he said. “Have the ship prepared for battle. We shall leave the station as soon as the full system’s check has run its course.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Janeway had the meeting with the Centauri ambassador arranged through Vir, who usually made Londo’s appointments for him. Said meeting was scheduled right after her check-in with Chakotay and took place on Babylon 5, in a small conference room of Blue Sector. She didn’t want the man who, according to Sheridan and his allies, was associated with their enemy, to see Voyager. Granted, his wife had already done so, but Lady Timov clearly wasn’t a person of great technical knowledge (or interest), so that was an acceptable risk. Allowing Mollari direct access to 24th century Starfleet technology would not be.
Thus a conference room it was, and Janeway made the precaution to take Ensign Jurot with her. It might not be entirely fair to have a telepath present - and a Betazoid at that, whose people didn’t have any qualms to read other people’s thoughts - but she had the impression that Londo Mollari was dangerous and anything but straightforward.
Granted, Ambassador Delenn had pointed out several past occasions when Mollari had proved helpful; even a decent person. But that had been in the past and - according to his own wife - the exception, not the rule. And his association with those Shadow creatures and the horrible consequences of said association - for the Narn, for Vir Cotto personally and for people back on the Centauri homeworld - made Janeway extremely wary towards him. She might have accepted Lady Timov’s word that it was in everybody’s best interest to keep Mollari in his current position because every alternative would have been much worse; but it didn’t mean that she liked to have part of it.
She checked her appearance in the mirror. Her dress uniform - a concession to the diplomatic situation - was immaculate, every single hair on her head in place. Good. She had been told that in the eyes of the Centauri appearances were important; she wanted to make a lasting first impression.
“Come on, Ensign,” she said to Jurot who, also in dress uniform, was waiting at the door. “Let’s face the inevitable.”
“Aye, Captain,” Crisa Jurot replied dutifully and followed her commanding officer to the turbolift, hiding her dismay with practiced ease.
Not that she would be as reluctant to poke around in other people’s heads as Vulcans were - far from it, she was a Betazoid, after all - but she had originally made other plans. Plans that would have been more fun than trying to figure out the truth beneath multiple layers of lies offered by the Centauri ambassador. But, as her room-mate at the Academy used to say (she was of German origins and had the oddest comments sometimes), duty was duty and schnapps was schnapps, and one should not mix one with the other.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Having parted ways with Delenn, Neroon sought out Sheridan’s company to inform him about the League’s willingness to support them with ships. The human quickly read through the report but didn’t seem happy with it. On the contrary.
“They're still holding back!” he declared in angry disappointment.
Neroon nodded. “Of course they do. They are afraid, Sheridan, and unlike you, they have a lot to loose, weakening the defences of their respective homeworlds.”
“None of the ships they’re holding back would do them any good if we don’t stop the Shadows before they could reach those homeworlds,” Sheridan muttered angrily.
Neroon nodded again. “I know that and you know that and Delenn knows that; but all they have is our word. With the possible exception of the Narn, no-one of them has ever had directly to do with the Sher’shok Dum. It is understandable that they would want to keep the illusion of safety; even if it is ultimately futile.”
Sheridan checked the numbers of the offered ships and shook his head in dismay. “This is still not enough. Far from it.”
“It will have to do,” Neroon replied philosophically. “Getting them was hard enough. We should not waste any time now, that we finally have them, though. Keeping them as this drags on, that is going to be really hard. The Ingata and the Dogato are standing by, waiting for us. As soon as we are aboard, they will join the rest of the fleet.”
“I still think Delenn should stay here,” Sheridan muttered as they left his office and were heading for the docking bays. “I mean... Ivanova, Marcus, and me gone, Garibaldi will be up to his ears, with the combat pilots, Franklin’s still on walkabout...”
“She cannot,” Neroon interrupted. “She is more than just the representative of Minbar on Babylon 5. She is Entil’zha, the leader of the Anla’shok; it is her duty and her privilege to lead them in battle. Besides, she is not as fragile as she might seem to you. By all due respect to your protective instincts, she was Satai, just like me, used to make choices that could decide the fate of entire planets. She has the strength and the determination to deal with this.”
“I’m not questioning her strength,” Sheridan said unhappily. “It’s just… I find it hard to see a woman to whom I’ve become close to walk into deadly peril with her eyes wide open.”
“Close?” Neroon echoed, alarm bells beginning to ring in his mind as he tried to put together the signs he had half-consciously noticed lately to a complete picture. “Just how close have the two of you become, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Actually, I do,” Sheridan returned dryly, “but if you are willing to give me some answers I might be ready to overlook the indiscretion. The question is: are you willing?”
“It depends on the nature of the answers you require,” Neroon said evasively.
The last thing he wanted was to discuss Minbari traditions with Starkiller, of all people. But he, too, needed information about Delenn’s further plans, so making concessions might be necessary.
Sheridan gave him a doubtful look, as if he could guess what Neroon was thinking, but in the end his curiosity won over his doubts.
“She said something about watching me sleep in three nights in a row?” he said uncertainly. “Is that a religious tradition of some sort?”
“Yes,” Neroon replied as blandly as he could, while his mind was awhirl with the possible ramifications. “During the day, we all put on the face we think will do us the most good. But at a certain point in your sleep, as you relax, your true face is revealed.”
“I still don’t understand,” Sheridan admitted; and really, it wasn’t his fault. Humans were just too different.
Therefore Neroon tried a different approach, without revealing that which was not his to reveal.
“She will watch you for one night first,” he explained carefully. “If she approves of your true face, she will stay two more nights and continue to observe.”
Sheridan frowned, still not getting the full ramifications and how could he? He was not a Minbari, nor did he have a Minbari soul - that much appeared painfully obvious - and he lacked the necessary references, too.
“What if she doesn't like what she sees?” he asked.
“Then you will go your separate ways,” Neroon replied airily, as if they were talking about a light romp in human fashion.
The human really did not need to know that there might be anything else; not from him anyway. Delenn had started this whole disaster; it was up to her to come clear.
Sheridan wasn’t done just yet, though.
“What if she does like what she sees?” he asked.
“In that case the two of you will have to decide how to continue with things,” Neroon said grimly. “I strongly suggest that you ask her about the Alien Prohibition, though, before you get involved in any further rituals. It would spare you a great deal of headache.”
He refused to say more, no matter how much the human insisted, more so as they had to head for their respective shuttles to take them to their ships. But as he was piloting the Alota towards his warship, Neroon had to withstand the urge to bang his head against the instrumental board.
What in Valen’s name was Delenn thinking, initiating a courtship with a clueless human at the brink of a devastating war? And not just with any human but with Starkiller himself! Even if the Alien Prohibition were no longer valid - although it still was, very much so - her family would never allow this… this mockery.
Not to mention what Sheridan would say if he were aware of Delenn’s pivotal role in the Earth-Minbari war.
“Oh, Delenn,” he muttered to himself,” you really know how to stir things up!”