Kansas 2 - The Yellow Brick Road, Part 04
Title: Kansas 2 - The Yellow Brick Road
Author: Soledad
Author’s notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc., see the secondary index page.
Before anyone tries to lynch me: yes, Harry Kim is canonically a Christian. There’s even a crucifix hanging on the wall of his cabin aboard Voyager. Even though that’s the only clue to his spiritual orientation..
PART 04
Marcus Cole, Babylon 5’s only resident Ranger, was bored out of his head. His recovery was slower than he had expected, and that made him grumpy, itchy, impatient and generally a pain in the backside for the poor, overworked medical staff. He just couldn’t understand why it was taking so long. He had been injured before - Ranger training wasn’t for the fragile in body or mind, and besides, he had served in the Earth-Minbari war as a very young man. Unlike some human Rangers, he was not an inexperienced greenhorn. He should have dealt with the aftermath better.
Although, if he thought about it, never before had damaged him quite so deliberately and thoroughly as Neroon had done.
Not that Neroon could have been the only one to blame. Marcus knew that. Neroon had offered him a way out, and Marcus also knew that the Minbari would never have spoken about his chickening out. Minbari warriors were mindful about one’s honour - even about that of their enemies. Marcus could have gotten away relatively unharmed… but that would have meant bloodshed during the inauguration ceremony, and, as a result, possibly civil war on Minbar.
To be perfectly honest, Marcus didn’t really care who was leading the Rangers, as long as they fulfilled their purpose: to guard the innocent against the upcoming darkness. But Delenn had been Sinclair’s choice, and for Marcus, Sinclair had been and would always be the One for whom he was willing to die. He had challenged Neroon to denn’shah to defend Sinclair’s legacy; he would die for Delenn, because Sinclair had chosen her to fulfil that legacy.
It was that simple.
All those highly idealistic considerations did nothing to ease his current pain, however. Or his current boredom. It had been fun to watch the glaring match between Harry and Neroon’s young, hot-headed nephew a couple of hours earlier, but unfortunately, it had not lasted long. Rastenn had left to meet someone - presumably one of Neroon’s spies. Marcus knew Minbari tactics well enough to assume that the various Clans of the Warrior Caste had all quite a number of informants on Babylon 5. Knowledge was power, after all.
In any case, Rastenn had left quite early, and soon thereafter, Harry had been “beamed out”, in the middle of the lame joke he had been telling, and never came back.
Marcus knew that some sort of crisis had to be happening on the station. He had had his suspicions when the Voyager people had used their particle transporter to snatch Harry directly from his room. They didn’t flaunt their superior technology unless they absolutely had to - which, in Marcus’ opinion, was the intelligent thing to do. If they thought it was necessary, then something had to be up.
When Susan hadn’t dropped in at her usual time to visit him, Marcus realized that the crisis had to be a fairly major one. Susan never missed her appointments. She was as meticulously ordered and punctual as the station’s main computer. And the fact that B’Elanna Torres hadn’t come to visit him, as promised, after her duty shift ended, could only mean that they had a serious apocalypse coming. One that affected both Voyager and station personnel.
The medical staff couldn’t tell him anything, but that wasn’t really a surprise. Stephen had always complained that the MedLabs were the place where news arrived the latest. So he gad no other choice than to wait - with growing impatience - until someone would finally remember that he was still there.
He was ready to crawl up the walls when Dr. Hobbs finally came to his room.
“Your latest results are promising,” she told him. “I think I can release you in three days’ time. But until them… do you feel like socializing a little?”
“It depends,” Marcus replied carefully. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Commander Ivanova organized a formal dinner for Voyager’s senior staff,” Lillian explained, “and apparently, Delenn has somehow blackmailed the captain into participating. They would like you to be there, too.”
“What for?” Marcus frowned. “Do they need a guinea pig to show that they are not poisoning anyone?”
The doctor gave him a stern look full of reproval.
“I assume they want to discuss some serious issues in a private circle,” she said. “And since you’ve been a key figure in several recent events, thy need your input. Although,” she added thoughtfully, “it’s sometimes truly hard to withstand the urge to poison you.”
Laughing was still way too painful, Marcus decided. His mending ribs apparently preferred him in a more… dignified mood.
“Very well,” he said. “Could you have my uniform brought here? There might not be a dress code, but I seriously doubt that sleeping garments would be acceptable, even if I arrived in a wheelchair.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Londo Mollari was standing in front of the large mirror in his quarters, admiring himself in his best coat. Yes, he still looked dashing and dignified - and those who considered him and his position a joke and thought they could best him easily would experience the surprise of their lives - and not necessarily a pleasant one.
They thought him a broken old man; an aged predator with no teeth left to bite. Well, they were going to learn otherwise.
His plans had already been set to motion. Guards loyal to his House - men whose fathers and grandfathers had served House Mollari faithfully for generations - had been assigned to Refa’s entourage. The proof pointing in Refa’s direction has been gathered and recorded. G’Kar would play his part, as he had been promised a price he could not refuse.
Now all depended on his innocent, most faithful ally; an ally who had no idea how he would be used and why. To a certain extent, Londo even regretted having to do so; but there was no other way. Vengeance was coming within his reach, and he would not let it slip through his fingers again.
Right on clue, Vir came through the door, agitated.
“Londo!” he exclaimed. “I just heard! Lord Refa is…”
“Londo waved him off. “Lord Refa is here with Minister Virini. Yes, I know. I am on my way to see them. You will meet me there.”
“I will?” Vir repeated with a frown. “I’m not going with you?”
“Oh, you will,” Londo bared his fangs in a shark-like grin, making Vir cringe involuntarily. “After you’ve run an errand for me.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Voyager’s team of technicians finished their comm system check and let C&C to return to their ship. The Vulcan and the Bolian went straight back, that is; but Seven of Nine decided to take the scenic tour… or so it seemed. Strolling through the corridors of the docking area randomly, she finally stopped in the middle of one in a rather abrupt manner.
“Show yourself and state your intention!” he demanded coldly.
“Such aloof manners… such cool distance from all the mundane struggles of mankind!” a light tenor voice answered, and a bald-headed man in a long, black cloak emerged from the shadows. “Quite admirable, actually. But you do not need to worry about me; I mean no harm.”
“I am not worried,” Seven declared. “You are but a human; I am Borg. You are no match for me.”
“Oh, but appearances can be deceiving, can’t they?” the man said with a very satisfied expression. “Perhaps I am much stronger than I look. Perhaps I have hidden powers you can’t even imagine.”
“Unlikely,” Seven replied coldly. “If you believe that I cannot spot the implants under your clothes, you are mistaken. My cranial implants react to all sort of technical equipment embedded in human flesh - that is how Borg drones recognize each other.”
“Oh, but do you also know what they are capable of?” the man asked, irrationally amused by her answer. “Do you know the magic they can work?”
“’Magic’ is a mere product of immature human imagination,” Seven declared, “that can’t yet understand the hidden connections of science and natural law. Pretending that you are capable of wielding magic only proves your lack of true scientific understanding.”
“Does it?” he asked, even more amused than before. “Can science teach you the big secrets, the truly important ones? Can it teach you the fourteen words that make someone fall in love with you forever? Or the seven words that make them go without pain? Or what to say to a friend who is dying? Can science help you to rediscover dreams that life has stolen from you?”
Seven raised the eyebrow without the cranial implant.
“Love, as humans understand it is irrelevant,” she stated coldly. “It is merely a biochemical reaction, fuelled by the species’ reproductive instinct. Pain is also irrelevant - once its function for the individual’s survival is fulfilled, it will pass.”
“And what about death?” the man asked. “Is death irrelevant as well?”
“It is, if you are lucky enough to be Borg,” Seven replied calmly. “If you are part of the Collective, your memories, your individual distinction are added to the whole. What happens to the hull you inhabit,” she made a sweeping gesture down her body, “no longer matters. It is part of the whole, too, and utterly exchangeable.”
The man gave her a strange look. “Is that what you thrive to achieve?” he asked.
“That is what has been taken from me,” Seven answered matter-of-factly. “I understand that Captain Janeway believes she has ‘helped’ me to regain my individuality. That her intentions were what humans call ‘noble’. But in the end, intentions are irrelevant, too. What counts are facts. And the fact is that she has taken me from the Collective where I had my place and my purpose and forced me to lead a life that has long become alien to me.”
“Do you resent what she did?” the man asked.
“What I might feel about it is, too, irrelevant,” Seven replied with an elegant shrug. “This is my life now, and I have to learn how to live without hearing the others in my mind.”
“It must be a lonely existence,” the man said.
Seven shrugged again. “It is what it is.”
“But it was not your choice,” the man said.
“Neither was being assimilated by the Collective,” Seven pointed out logically. “In that, Captain Janeway was right. She believed that she has ‘rescued’ me from being part of a hive mind where individuality has no place. She never asked herself - or me - whether I wanted to be rescued. She has made that choice for me, just as the Borg had done when I was a child.”
“But if you had a choice,” the man said, “which way of existence would you choose?”
“Contemplating impossible choices is irrelevant,” Seven replied.
“Perhaps,” the man said. “Perhaps not. Since you are an individual now, it gives you the questionable privilege to make your own decisions. And so I ask you again, Seven of Nine, you who once used to be a human child - which way of existence do you choose?”
Seven considered the question for a moment. “I would choose not to be alone,” she finally said.
The man bowed to her in a somewhat theatrical fashion. “Then, maybe, there will be a way for you - one that you can accept as your own.”
Seven raised the unimplanted eyebrow again. “You are a peculiar creature.”
“Why, thank you!” the man actually seemed pleased. “I have been called many things in my life, but peculiar… this is a first!”
Seven had had enough from his mind games.
“You will give me your designation and your function on this station,” she demanded forcefully. “You will tell me now!”
The man shrugged. “Why not? My name is Galen - and I am a friend. That is my only function - though some people seem to think that it is enough.”
“A friend of whom?” Seven asked.
“Of all who wish to survive the upcoming great storm,” the man named Galen replied. “Take care, Seven of Nine from the starship Voyager. We shall speak again, when the time is right.”
With that, he bowed again and merged with the shadows. Seven scanned the area with her tricorder, but there were no readings whatsoever that could have proved that he had been there at all. Not even the usual residues that would have been by a holographic projection.
It was apparent that the man - assuming he had been real, not just the product of a malfunctioning crania implant - knew a method to blind the tricorder. Deciding to search the station’s database for people like him, Seven turned on her high heels and went back to Voyager. She had been up and about for thirty-eight standards hours. It was time to regenerate.
She stepped into the small chamber in the cargo bay and initiated the regeneration cycle. Her body and mind went into dormant mode immediately, so she could not longer see Galen, who stepped out of the shadows to watch her for a while.
“Yes,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Perhaps your way is the one that can save us all. I believe you will serve nicely as the nexus.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Once again, Rastenn of the Star Riders had donned his Warrior Caste disguise before going to infiltrate the diplomatic section of Green Sector. Even with all those Minbari priests, clerks, Rangers and spies around Delenn coming and going all the time, a warrior would have drawn unwanted attention. And attention was the last thing he would want when trying to outsmart the ruthless, paranoid and very experienced Centauri agents.
His task was particularly difficult today. Minister Virini and Lord Refa, two Centauri dignitaries who had arrived to Babylon 5 somewhen during the day, had been known as two of the major war-mongers at Emperor Cartagia’s court. Whatever they were up to, it would affect other people as well - especially as Refa, too, had been seen in the company of that human Shadow agent, Morden.
So when he had seen them coming through Customs, Rastenn knew at once that his uncle would like to learn as much about their agenda as possible. It was a risky thing, as Centauri had no problems whatsoever with killing suspicious people on the spot - or capturing and torturing them, for that matter - but Rastenn was a trained warrior and an experienced spy. Besides, he hoped that he could still count on Vir to help him.
Hacking into the station’s computer to find the quarters assigned to the Centauri nobles had been the easy part. Staying out of the eyesight of the numerous guards had been an inspiring challenge, but he knew he’d be able to do so, in the end. Part of his extensive training had been to learn how to shield his mind, so that the telepaths Centauri nobles usually took with them to their travels would not be able to sense his presence.
All those minor tasks achieved, he was now lurking within eyesight to Minister Virini’s quarters, trying to figure out a way how to infiltrate them. That was a hard one, and he’d already spent there some time, wracking his mind over the problem, when the door opened and Londo and Vir stormed out.
The younger Centauri began to argue with his boss as soon as they were out the door. Fortunately, High Centauri was one of the languages Rastenn had learned during his training.
“I don't believe this!” the young aide ranted. “Is that why you're doing this? To win favour at the Royal Court? How can you do this to me?”
Londo stopped and tried with a gesture to shut him up, but it doesn't work. Vir simply continued to rant, regardless of who might have overheard them.
“To have G'Kar imprisoned or killed just to - to elevate your position?” he asked accusingly.
Now the Centaury ambassador was getting truly angry. “You're young, Vir!” he snapped. “You don't understand, but you will!”
With that, Londo continued down the corridor. Vir puffed under his breath for a while to vent a little steam before he could bring himself to follow. But in the end, he did follow - as always. Unlike any other people who had ever anything to do with Londo Mollari, his devotion seemed to be unwavering.
As soon as they were both gone, one of the guardsmen standing at the door of Minister Virini’s quarters left his post and hurried off in the opposite direction.
That left Rastenn with a difficult choice. He could go to the former Narn ambassador and warn him that whatever ambassador Mollari planned was a trap. Or he could follow Londo and Vir and try to figure out what it was exactly that Londo planned. What little he had heard didn’t sound good - and if Vir was so upset about it, perhaps Rastenn didn’t know half of it yet.
Deciding that more detailed knowledge would give him a better opinion to make the right choice, Rastenn followed the two Centauri, careful to remain covered all the time.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The official dinner, organized by Ivanova, had been set up in the middle of the chapel, with Brother Theo’s consent, meaning that the leader of Babylon 5’s Cistercian monks was also present. Sheridan seemed to have recovered a little from his exhaustion and welcomed his guests with genuine delight. Delenn and Ivanova, sitting on his left and right, respectively, exchanged satisfied little grins, seeing that their plan to dig him away from his concerns for a while has worked out quite nicely.
The senior officers of Voyager had chosen to come in civilian garb, which offered the Babylon 5 crowd fascinating insights into the clothing fashion of an alternate future Earth. Captain Janeway looked particularly elegant in her cream-coloured, three-piece trouser suit, with the matching silk blouse, and her long hair in a loose French twist. Commander Chakotay in light grey looked equally appropriate, although, as Lieutenant Paris commented, that kind of high-collared suit jacket he was wearing had been out since the 22nd century. Paris himself came in a Hawaii shirt that was so brightly coloured that it hurt the eyes, and Lieutenant Torres was wearing something matching in style while a lot less colourful. Young Ensign Kim was clad in a rather traditional fashion, like Chakotay, and seemed to feel a little out of his element among all those high-ranking officers.
The senior staff of Babylon 5 - wearing their black uniform - looked like a flock of ravens next to them... with the sole exception of Lillian Hobbs, who adamantly refused to come to dinner in uniform. Especially as this whole issue had ruined her long-planned date.
“Private life isn’t something we’d have a lot of on Babylon 5,” she explained, pushing in the wheelchair of Marcus, who’d put on his Ranger uniform to honour the event.
Harry and B’Elanna - who was still recovering from the thorough dressing down she’d received from Chakotay and was avoiding the executive officer’s looks as well as she could - promptly made place for the Ranger between the two of them. They were eager to learn more about the fine points of a Ranger’s life; Harry out of romantic interest, B’Elanna because she wanted to compare them with the life in the Maquis.
Sheridan introduced Brother Theo to the Voyager officers, explaining them that the old monk was the one who was coordinating the gathering of vital information back on Earth, with the help of his fellow clerics from several different confessions.
“His work is of the greatest value for us,” Babylon 5’s captain added. “With all our ties with EarthGov cut off, and ISA putting out nothing but propaganda, we can’t get reliable news about what’s going on on Earth.”
“I assume EarthGov propaganda doesn’t speak too friendly about you,” Chakotay said from where he was sitting next to Dr. Hobbs.
“No,” Ivanova replied darkly. “Usually, they say that we’re a bunch of renegades… or, better yet, that we’re pirates and traitors, working with aliens to subvert Earth.”
“And people are actually buying that crap?” Paris asked, his sympathies clearly lying with the Babylon 5 crowd. It didn’t surprise anyone who’d known him for a while. He did have his own problems with authorities, starting right away with his father.
“Well, the fact that they’ve fired on their own ships might have to do something with that,” Janeway commented.
“We didn’t start it,” Sheridan said tiredly. “They were the ones who fired at us first; the ones who tried to take over the station and give it to Night Watch and other paramilitary organizations to use it for their own purposes, regardless of the wishes - or the safety - of a quarter million people living here… most of whom aren’t even human.”
“I understand that,” Janeway replied. “I’m not sure the average Earth citizen does, though. Especially when they’re not given the whole truth.”
“Just like the average Starfleet officer doesn’t understand why the Maquis don’t accept the Federations/Cardassian treaty in our time,” Chakotay pointed out. “All they know is that there was a treaty that had finally ended the hostilities with Cardassia - and now some insignificant border zone colonies are endangering it… and the peace of the entire Federation.”
Janeway shot him an exasperated look. “This is not exactly the same, Commander!”
Chakotay didn’t even flinch under her reproving glare. “Looks pretty similar to me, Captain,” he replied. “But that is our problem, and irrelevant right now, as we, too, are efficiently cut off from home.”
“For the moment, perhaps,” Janeway said. “But I’m still hoping that he… how do you call it? That mysterious construction under the surface of Epsilon 3?”
“The Great Machine,” Ivanova supplied helpfully.
Janeway nodded. “Yes, thank you. I hope it would be able to open for us a way home, as soon as things have calmed down here.”
“So do I,” Chakotay said. “I want to get home as much as you do, Captain. But I’m afraid things won’t be calming down here quite yet.”
“No, I don’t think so, either,” Brother Theo said, his usually so jovial, round face darkening with concern. “At least no on Earth. The real problem back home is that folks have been conned into thinking they can’t change the world. That they have to accept what is.”
“But isn’t that what priests have preached for over two thousand years?” Harry Kim, who happened to be a practicing Christian, asked in confusion. “That we have to take everything from God’s hand with gratitude and grow under the burden?”
Brother Theo gave him a reproving look.
“If that would be the essence of Christian beliefs, young man, our Lord would not have died on the cross,” he replied tartly. “But He knew that the world is changing every day; and that we need to change with it. Because if we allow others to do all the changes, we will be responsible for the direction those changes take. Even if we had only been sitting on the sideline and watching.”
“And that is only the situation back on Earth,” Sheridan added. “We’ll have to deal with that, eventually. But our first, most urgent concern right now are the Shadows.”
“I heard they are on the move already,” Chakotay said. “I assume you are certain that sooner or later they will be targeting the station, too.”
Sheridan nodded. “The problem is, their tactic just doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “They keep attacking random targets, in a completely illogical manner. I can’t find any pattern in their attacks. It’s… it’s frustrating!”
“I’m sure it is,” Chakotay said. “What happens once they are engaged?”
Sheridan shrugged helplessly. “Then their tactics are very successful… not to mention devastating. It’s a contradiction.”
“Perhaps,” Chakotay allowed. “Perhaps those random attacks are logical in some way, though, and you just haven’t yet figured out how.”
“That is exactly what I told him when I found him sitting in the war room, thinking logically about illogical possibilities,” Delenn declared with twinkling eyes.
“Or thinking illogically about logical possibilities,” Ivanova added.
The two women exchanged sly grins again, congratulating each other for the obvious success of this particular evening.
“Perhaps what you need is a fresh perspective, Captain,” Ivanova continued; then he turned to Chakotay. “Commander, Garibaldi tells me that you used to lead seminars in advanced tactical training for Starfleet officers once. Is that true?”
“That was years ago,” Chakotay replied, “and in a very different context of galactic powers. But yes, it is true.”
“You did?” Sheridan asked, his interest suddenly piqued. “Would you mind to go through the intel with me then? Perhaps Susan is right and a fresh perspective will be helpful.”
“I can’t guarantee anything,” Chakotay replied with a shrug. “I’m not very familiar with the situation. But we can give it a try.”
“Commander,” Janeway intervened, disapproval clear in her voice, “I thought we agreed not to interfere with the natural development of history in this universe.”
“No, Captain,” Chakotay corrected. “We agreed not to take sides in the internal conflict within the Earth Alliance, and I still stand to that. But I can’t just lean back and watch as these… these Shadow things flatten entire planets and massacre helpless people by the millions, if there is the slightest chance to help prevent genocide. I’m sorry, but that just wouldn’t do.”
“The Prime Directive…” Janeway began, but Chakotay cut her off.
“…doesn’t apply here. We’re not speaking about some primitive pre-Warp civilization here… although, frankly, I’ve always found it horribly hypocritical to leave such cultures without help because the Prime Directive. This is a situation no Starfleet regs can give us clear guidelines how to handle it. This place… this reality might very well become the only one we’ll know fort he rest of our lives. And that makes it our responsibility, too.”
Janeway shook her head. “I can’t condone this, Chakotay.”
“By all due respect, Captain, you can’t prevent me from doing so, either,” Chakotay replied, now a bit more forcefully himself. “You can throw me out of Voyager, of course; but I think you know as well as I do that in that case I won’t be leaving alone.”
Janeway stared at him as if he’d hit her in the face - and quite hard, at that.
“Chakotay, why are you doing this?” she asked, visibly shaken. “I thought we had an understanding.”
“We did - and we still do,” Chakotay answered. “I’m sorry if you have to believe that every time I disagree with you I’m turning against you. I am not. But there are certain things I can’t allow to happen with good conscience - and not helping all those endangered people is one of those things. I might not be able help much; I might not be able to help at all. But I have at least to try - or I won’t be able to look into the mirror anymore.”
There was a long, tense silence around the dinner table; the Babylon 5 people realizing that this was a conflict between captain and executive officer that had been a long time coming, and that the confrontation might be changing a great many things in Voyager’s command structure. Finally, Sheridan cleared his throat and asked with forced brightness.
“By the way, where the hell is Garibaldi? I thought he wanted to join us for dinner - if only to criticize the skills of the cook from the vantage point of a self-declared gourmet chef.”
“That I had,” the security chief replied, coming through the door just on clue, “but I was delayed… by G’Kar.”
“Oh?” Delenn frowned; G’Kar’s actions, despite the Narn’s unwavering loyalty to their alliance, could be somewhat… eccentric at times. “What did he want from you?”
“Oh, nothing major, just a little favour,” Garibaldi slumped onto the empty chair next to Ivanova and eyed the presented dishes with a suspicious eye. “He needed something smuggled into the Narn homeworld, that’s all.”
“And what would that be?” Sheridan asked, clearly a little worried. “I hope not some weapons of mass destruction. Another Narn-Centauri war would be the last thing we could use right now; not to mention that the Narns wouldn’t have a rat’s chance in an open confrontation.”
“Nah,” Garibaldi replied; then he took a spoon and began to eat rather speedily as if he’d wanted to catch up with the others who were already at the second course. “Just himself.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Rastenn had no difficulties following Vir to the transport tube undetected. The young aide was upset and distracted and obviously paid his surroundings very little attention. He didn’t even give the Centauri guardsman already in the car as much as a glance when shuffling in.
Rastenn, on the other hand, did recognize the guard as the same one who’d been standing at Minister Virini’s door just a few moments ago and didn’t believe in a coincidence for a second. He didn’t like how this was going; and even less so when he spotted the communicator in the guard’s hand, and how the man was fingering a button in the very moment Vir joined him.
This looked awfully like a trap, but Rastenn knew he wouldn’t be able to rush into the transport tube in time. He needed to find another option.
Very few people knew about the emergency stairways of Babylon 5, hidden in the maintenance tunnels, but they did exist, of course. Maintenance crews had to get from one level to another in case the transport system was malfunctioning, Fortunately for Rastenn, the spies of the Star Raiders had not only mapped all those stairways years ago, the data he’d secretly copied in Sheridan’s office two weeks ago had also contained the access codes for the maintenance crews, and he had both maps and access codes imprinted into his near-perfect memory.
Taking the educated guess that Vir was returning to his own quarters, Rastenn took the closest such stairway and rushed to the right Green level. He found it an unusual way of getting from here to there - not to mention tiring - but he was a warrior; and he was young. He could do this.
And in fact, he almost made it in time. He arrived in the very moment when Vir stepped out of the car - just to see four dishevelled types rush him back into the car, right into the grasp of the guardsman. The tube doors closed behind them at once.
Rastenn hit the bulkhead in anger and sheer frustration. He only missed them by ten seconds or so! Then he took a few deep breaths to calm down. If he wanted to help Vir, he needed to think.
The four types seemed like the usual folks who populated DownBelow - people who had come to Babylon 5 in the hope to find their luck… and failed. The humans called them “lurkers”, and it was a known fact that they would do just about anything for money.
So the question was - who could have hired them in the first place?
Rastenn let the events of the last hour go through his head again and believed to have found the only possible answer: Lord Refa. The Centauri nobleman had visited Babylon 5 repeatedly during the previous months, and it was no secret that he and Ambassador Mollari were embittered rivals. Considering Lord Refa’s high position in the court of Emperor Cartagia, it was not hard to determine which one had had the luckier hand lately.
However, the short argument Rastenn had overheard between Vir and his employer revealed that the ambassador must have found a way to elevate his position in the Royal Court again - most likely to Refa’s disadvantage. That was something Lord Refa would not like. But to thwart Londo’s plans, he had to know what exactly those plans were, had he not?
The key to this knowledge was obviously Vir. Vir, who was privy to most of his employer’s plotting and planning… and who was unwaveringly loyal to the scheming ambassador.
In Rastenn’s opinion, that was an admirable loyalty wasted on an unworthy person, but if Lennier was right, Vir obviously considered it the calling of his hearts to take care of Londo Mollari, and who was he to interfere with someone else’s calling?
Which did not mean that he would be sitting idly and letting the idealistic young Centauri - and was that not a contradiction in itself? - getting killed, or at least seriously hurt, as a result of said misplaced royalty. He was gong to rescue Vir… if he could only find him in time.
As it stood beyond doubt for him that Lord Refa had been behind Vir’s abduction, the courtier would probably want to speak to the young aide - preferably somewhere private. Rastenn went to the next computer terminal to find out where Lord Refa’s quarters were. That was where he would start; and hopefully, Refa would lead him to the place where Vir was being kept.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Garibaldi’s casual declaration about G’Kar’s plans caused a mild shock by Babylon 5’s command staff.
“Is he bloody insane?” Marcus demanded. “There’s a standing warrant for his arrest back on Narn. If he goes home, he’ll be stuck in prison - if he’s very, very lucky. Shot at first sight would be more likely, in fact.”
“I told him the same thing,” Garibaldi shrugged, “but he didn’t listen - nobody ever does. All he said was that he had to go, no matter what the risks were.”
“Why?” Ivanova asked incredulously.
Garibaldi rolled his eyes. “I have no idea! ‘A personal matter’, he said. He left half an hour ago.”
“For Narn?” Sheridan asked with a frown. “What ship would still choose that route since the planet has practically been levelled by the Centauri?”
“The Rangers can bring him in quietly,” Marcus said, “and wait for him in a hidden place until he returns. It is doable. But once there, he would be on his own. We are not allowed to interfere.”
“You guys can really smuggle him in?” Tom Paris looked at the Ranger with newly born respect. “That would require some damn fine piloting, if the reports I’ve seen so far are accurate - and a great deal of madness to try doing so in the first place.”
“We are Rangers,” Marcus quoted the Anla’shok mantra with a shrug and a smile. “We walk in the dark places no others will enter. We stand on the bridge and no one may pass! We live for The One, we die for The One,” he added, smiling at Delenn, who smiled back at him.
“Yeah, but do you have to die stupidly?” Paris grumbled, the cynic in him not quite buying into the whole Ranger philosophy.
“Stupidity,” Marcus replied in a dignified manner, although his eyes were twinkling, “is entirely a matter of perspective. One person’s madness is another person’s great revelation.”
“But most likely the same madness anyway,” Brother Theo commented, and everyone laughed.
“Speaking of which,” Brother Theo added, “we have a delegation of the True Gospel Mission Baptist Church visiting right now; in truth, they were the ones smuggling in all those data crystals from home. They wish to offer an open church service for everyone who might be interested - to show the aliens a more… joyous alternative of Christian beliefs, as they said.”
“You wouldn’t mind…?” Sheridan asked. Brother Theo was a useful ally whom he didn’t want to antagonize.
The old monk shrugged. “The chapel is for everyone, and far be it from me to prevent any interested aliens from getting the shock of their lives,” he replied. “You might warn those of sensitive hearing to take earplugs with them, though. Members of this particular church interpret the Scripture’s encouragement of 'making a joyful noise unto the Lord’ quite literally I’m afraid.”
Everyone laughed again. It was hard not to do so. Bother Theo had an almost infectious way to take everything with a pinch of good humour.
“Well, I think it’s a good idea,” Sheridan said. “We all can use a little joy right now, even if it’s the… erm… noisy version of it. What about your crew, Captain?” he looked at Janeway. “Would they like to attend, too? We’re a little tight for space right now, but if they use the chapel, a few dozen people more won’t count, I think.”
“Some of the human crew would doubtlessly want to,” Janeway said thoughtfully, and so would I, to be honest. It would be a taste of home - something we haven’t had for over two years.”
“Your homes must be fairly noisy places, then” Brother Theo commented sarcastically - then he flashed at her a grandfatherly smile. “But you’ll be most welcome, of course. The service will take place tomorrow, at twenty hundred hours.”
“I can take over Gamma shift, Captain,” Chakotay offered. “I assume Tuvok would find such a ceremony… fascinating.”
It was the Voyager crew’s turn to burst out in laughter now; their hosts exchanged blank looks.
“Never mind,” Paris chuckled. “You’ll understand once you’ve spent more time in the company of Vulcans.” He looked at Chakotay in askance. “And you really don’t want to be there, Commander? No nostalgic feelings whatsoever?”
“I’m not from Earth to begin with,” Chakotay reminded him, “and I’m not even nominally Christian. I can take my spirit walk whenever or wherever I want. You go; you’ll need it more than I do.”
“Well, if you think so,” Paris said doubtfully.
Chakotay nodded. “I do.”
“We should get back to Voyager, then,” Janeway said. “It’s getting late, and most of us are on Alpha shift tomorrow.”
“Which means - what exactly?” Sheridan inquired.
“It’s the first duty shift of the day, which is from oh-six-hundred to fourteen hundred hours,” Harry explained readily. “Usually, the senior officers are on duty during alpha shift, with one replacement crewmember each, in case of emergencies. Beta shift is from fourteen hundred to twenty hundred, and Gamma shift is the dog watch - it lasts all night.”
“Ensign, I don’t believe Captain Sheridan wanted such a detailed answer,” Janeway said. She didn’t add that the duty roster of the ship was not the business of outsiders, but the warning was clear enough.
Harry blushed in embarrassment. Even after more than two years in the Delta Quadrant, he sometimes turned back into an over-eager cadet. As Paris had put once, he just couldn’t stop babbling, and although he knew Tom hadn’t meant it to be a reprimand, he also knew that it was a habit he had to break eventually.
“There’s nothing wrong with a detailed answer,” Marcus intervened smoothly on his behalf. “Details are good - they make senior officers happy. Especially when ordered neatly in a properly written report. Fortunately, the Rangers are not required to fill in written reports,” he added, and the others grinned involuntarily.
“That’s it: you belong back to the MedLabs,” Dr. Hobbs declared sternly. “You’re having too good a time - it can’t be healthy for your recovery.”
The others laughed again. Harry and B’Elanna offered to help wheeling Marcus back to his sick room, but Chakotay waved the offer away.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “Dr. Hobbs and I have things to discuss anyway.”
Sheridan glanced at the lady doctor who looked particularly lovely in her prune-coloured skirt and jacket, and realized for the first time that there was something going on. He broke into a grin that nearly split his face in two.
“Discussing things; that’s what they call it nowadays?” he drawled. “I must definitely lack a private life being so far behind the current vernacular in euphemisms. Well, have a good time, you two.”
“Thank you, Captain, I’ll do my best,” Chakotay replied, completely unfazed. Then he looked at Janeway. “I’ll see you on the bridge, Captain, around the end of your shift.
Janeway nodded in agreement, and shortly thereafter the Voyager officers left the chapel to return to their ship, Lillian and Chakotay were the next to leave, pushing Marcus’ wheelchair in front of them.
“They’d make a nice couple,” Garibaldi commented. “Too bad that the whole thing has no future - what, with them belonging to different universes and stuff.”
But Brother Theo shook his head thoughtfully. “Who knows, Mr. Garibaldi, who knows…? Our Lord leads us on strange paths sometimes. Well, good night, everyone. I still have Compline to pray with my brethren, and tomorrow there will be more work.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In the diplomatic area of Green Sector, Rastenn of the Star Riders was hiding in a maintenance tunnel opposite Lord Refa’s quarters and waited, with the patience only a sphinx - or a very determined Minbari - could maintain.
Part 05
Author: Soledad
Author’s notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc., see the secondary index page.
Before anyone tries to lynch me: yes, Harry Kim is canonically a Christian. There’s even a crucifix hanging on the wall of his cabin aboard Voyager. Even though that’s the only clue to his spiritual orientation..
PART 04
Marcus Cole, Babylon 5’s only resident Ranger, was bored out of his head. His recovery was slower than he had expected, and that made him grumpy, itchy, impatient and generally a pain in the backside for the poor, overworked medical staff. He just couldn’t understand why it was taking so long. He had been injured before - Ranger training wasn’t for the fragile in body or mind, and besides, he had served in the Earth-Minbari war as a very young man. Unlike some human Rangers, he was not an inexperienced greenhorn. He should have dealt with the aftermath better.
Although, if he thought about it, never before had damaged him quite so deliberately and thoroughly as Neroon had done.
Not that Neroon could have been the only one to blame. Marcus knew that. Neroon had offered him a way out, and Marcus also knew that the Minbari would never have spoken about his chickening out. Minbari warriors were mindful about one’s honour - even about that of their enemies. Marcus could have gotten away relatively unharmed… but that would have meant bloodshed during the inauguration ceremony, and, as a result, possibly civil war on Minbar.
To be perfectly honest, Marcus didn’t really care who was leading the Rangers, as long as they fulfilled their purpose: to guard the innocent against the upcoming darkness. But Delenn had been Sinclair’s choice, and for Marcus, Sinclair had been and would always be the One for whom he was willing to die. He had challenged Neroon to denn’shah to defend Sinclair’s legacy; he would die for Delenn, because Sinclair had chosen her to fulfil that legacy.
It was that simple.
All those highly idealistic considerations did nothing to ease his current pain, however. Or his current boredom. It had been fun to watch the glaring match between Harry and Neroon’s young, hot-headed nephew a couple of hours earlier, but unfortunately, it had not lasted long. Rastenn had left to meet someone - presumably one of Neroon’s spies. Marcus knew Minbari tactics well enough to assume that the various Clans of the Warrior Caste had all quite a number of informants on Babylon 5. Knowledge was power, after all.
In any case, Rastenn had left quite early, and soon thereafter, Harry had been “beamed out”, in the middle of the lame joke he had been telling, and never came back.
Marcus knew that some sort of crisis had to be happening on the station. He had had his suspicions when the Voyager people had used their particle transporter to snatch Harry directly from his room. They didn’t flaunt their superior technology unless they absolutely had to - which, in Marcus’ opinion, was the intelligent thing to do. If they thought it was necessary, then something had to be up.
When Susan hadn’t dropped in at her usual time to visit him, Marcus realized that the crisis had to be a fairly major one. Susan never missed her appointments. She was as meticulously ordered and punctual as the station’s main computer. And the fact that B’Elanna Torres hadn’t come to visit him, as promised, after her duty shift ended, could only mean that they had a serious apocalypse coming. One that affected both Voyager and station personnel.
The medical staff couldn’t tell him anything, but that wasn’t really a surprise. Stephen had always complained that the MedLabs were the place where news arrived the latest. So he gad no other choice than to wait - with growing impatience - until someone would finally remember that he was still there.
He was ready to crawl up the walls when Dr. Hobbs finally came to his room.
“Your latest results are promising,” she told him. “I think I can release you in three days’ time. But until them… do you feel like socializing a little?”
“It depends,” Marcus replied carefully. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Commander Ivanova organized a formal dinner for Voyager’s senior staff,” Lillian explained, “and apparently, Delenn has somehow blackmailed the captain into participating. They would like you to be there, too.”
“What for?” Marcus frowned. “Do they need a guinea pig to show that they are not poisoning anyone?”
The doctor gave him a stern look full of reproval.
“I assume they want to discuss some serious issues in a private circle,” she said. “And since you’ve been a key figure in several recent events, thy need your input. Although,” she added thoughtfully, “it’s sometimes truly hard to withstand the urge to poison you.”
Laughing was still way too painful, Marcus decided. His mending ribs apparently preferred him in a more… dignified mood.
“Very well,” he said. “Could you have my uniform brought here? There might not be a dress code, but I seriously doubt that sleeping garments would be acceptable, even if I arrived in a wheelchair.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Londo Mollari was standing in front of the large mirror in his quarters, admiring himself in his best coat. Yes, he still looked dashing and dignified - and those who considered him and his position a joke and thought they could best him easily would experience the surprise of their lives - and not necessarily a pleasant one.
They thought him a broken old man; an aged predator with no teeth left to bite. Well, they were going to learn otherwise.
His plans had already been set to motion. Guards loyal to his House - men whose fathers and grandfathers had served House Mollari faithfully for generations - had been assigned to Refa’s entourage. The proof pointing in Refa’s direction has been gathered and recorded. G’Kar would play his part, as he had been promised a price he could not refuse.
Now all depended on his innocent, most faithful ally; an ally who had no idea how he would be used and why. To a certain extent, Londo even regretted having to do so; but there was no other way. Vengeance was coming within his reach, and he would not let it slip through his fingers again.
Right on clue, Vir came through the door, agitated.
“Londo!” he exclaimed. “I just heard! Lord Refa is…”
“Londo waved him off. “Lord Refa is here with Minister Virini. Yes, I know. I am on my way to see them. You will meet me there.”
“I will?” Vir repeated with a frown. “I’m not going with you?”
“Oh, you will,” Londo bared his fangs in a shark-like grin, making Vir cringe involuntarily. “After you’ve run an errand for me.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Voyager’s team of technicians finished their comm system check and let C&C to return to their ship. The Vulcan and the Bolian went straight back, that is; but Seven of Nine decided to take the scenic tour… or so it seemed. Strolling through the corridors of the docking area randomly, she finally stopped in the middle of one in a rather abrupt manner.
“Show yourself and state your intention!” he demanded coldly.
“Such aloof manners… such cool distance from all the mundane struggles of mankind!” a light tenor voice answered, and a bald-headed man in a long, black cloak emerged from the shadows. “Quite admirable, actually. But you do not need to worry about me; I mean no harm.”
“I am not worried,” Seven declared. “You are but a human; I am Borg. You are no match for me.”
“Oh, but appearances can be deceiving, can’t they?” the man said with a very satisfied expression. “Perhaps I am much stronger than I look. Perhaps I have hidden powers you can’t even imagine.”
“Unlikely,” Seven replied coldly. “If you believe that I cannot spot the implants under your clothes, you are mistaken. My cranial implants react to all sort of technical equipment embedded in human flesh - that is how Borg drones recognize each other.”
“Oh, but do you also know what they are capable of?” the man asked, irrationally amused by her answer. “Do you know the magic they can work?”
“’Magic’ is a mere product of immature human imagination,” Seven declared, “that can’t yet understand the hidden connections of science and natural law. Pretending that you are capable of wielding magic only proves your lack of true scientific understanding.”
“Does it?” he asked, even more amused than before. “Can science teach you the big secrets, the truly important ones? Can it teach you the fourteen words that make someone fall in love with you forever? Or the seven words that make them go without pain? Or what to say to a friend who is dying? Can science help you to rediscover dreams that life has stolen from you?”
Seven raised the eyebrow without the cranial implant.
“Love, as humans understand it is irrelevant,” she stated coldly. “It is merely a biochemical reaction, fuelled by the species’ reproductive instinct. Pain is also irrelevant - once its function for the individual’s survival is fulfilled, it will pass.”
“And what about death?” the man asked. “Is death irrelevant as well?”
“It is, if you are lucky enough to be Borg,” Seven replied calmly. “If you are part of the Collective, your memories, your individual distinction are added to the whole. What happens to the hull you inhabit,” she made a sweeping gesture down her body, “no longer matters. It is part of the whole, too, and utterly exchangeable.”
The man gave her a strange look. “Is that what you thrive to achieve?” he asked.
“That is what has been taken from me,” Seven answered matter-of-factly. “I understand that Captain Janeway believes she has ‘helped’ me to regain my individuality. That her intentions were what humans call ‘noble’. But in the end, intentions are irrelevant, too. What counts are facts. And the fact is that she has taken me from the Collective where I had my place and my purpose and forced me to lead a life that has long become alien to me.”
“Do you resent what she did?” the man asked.
“What I might feel about it is, too, irrelevant,” Seven replied with an elegant shrug. “This is my life now, and I have to learn how to live without hearing the others in my mind.”
“It must be a lonely existence,” the man said.
Seven shrugged again. “It is what it is.”
“But it was not your choice,” the man said.
“Neither was being assimilated by the Collective,” Seven pointed out logically. “In that, Captain Janeway was right. She believed that she has ‘rescued’ me from being part of a hive mind where individuality has no place. She never asked herself - or me - whether I wanted to be rescued. She has made that choice for me, just as the Borg had done when I was a child.”
“But if you had a choice,” the man said, “which way of existence would you choose?”
“Contemplating impossible choices is irrelevant,” Seven replied.
“Perhaps,” the man said. “Perhaps not. Since you are an individual now, it gives you the questionable privilege to make your own decisions. And so I ask you again, Seven of Nine, you who once used to be a human child - which way of existence do you choose?”
Seven considered the question for a moment. “I would choose not to be alone,” she finally said.
The man bowed to her in a somewhat theatrical fashion. “Then, maybe, there will be a way for you - one that you can accept as your own.”
Seven raised the unimplanted eyebrow again. “You are a peculiar creature.”
“Why, thank you!” the man actually seemed pleased. “I have been called many things in my life, but peculiar… this is a first!”
Seven had had enough from his mind games.
“You will give me your designation and your function on this station,” she demanded forcefully. “You will tell me now!”
The man shrugged. “Why not? My name is Galen - and I am a friend. That is my only function - though some people seem to think that it is enough.”
“A friend of whom?” Seven asked.
“Of all who wish to survive the upcoming great storm,” the man named Galen replied. “Take care, Seven of Nine from the starship Voyager. We shall speak again, when the time is right.”
With that, he bowed again and merged with the shadows. Seven scanned the area with her tricorder, but there were no readings whatsoever that could have proved that he had been there at all. Not even the usual residues that would have been by a holographic projection.
It was apparent that the man - assuming he had been real, not just the product of a malfunctioning crania implant - knew a method to blind the tricorder. Deciding to search the station’s database for people like him, Seven turned on her high heels and went back to Voyager. She had been up and about for thirty-eight standards hours. It was time to regenerate.
She stepped into the small chamber in the cargo bay and initiated the regeneration cycle. Her body and mind went into dormant mode immediately, so she could not longer see Galen, who stepped out of the shadows to watch her for a while.
“Yes,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Perhaps your way is the one that can save us all. I believe you will serve nicely as the nexus.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Once again, Rastenn of the Star Riders had donned his Warrior Caste disguise before going to infiltrate the diplomatic section of Green Sector. Even with all those Minbari priests, clerks, Rangers and spies around Delenn coming and going all the time, a warrior would have drawn unwanted attention. And attention was the last thing he would want when trying to outsmart the ruthless, paranoid and very experienced Centauri agents.
His task was particularly difficult today. Minister Virini and Lord Refa, two Centauri dignitaries who had arrived to Babylon 5 somewhen during the day, had been known as two of the major war-mongers at Emperor Cartagia’s court. Whatever they were up to, it would affect other people as well - especially as Refa, too, had been seen in the company of that human Shadow agent, Morden.
So when he had seen them coming through Customs, Rastenn knew at once that his uncle would like to learn as much about their agenda as possible. It was a risky thing, as Centauri had no problems whatsoever with killing suspicious people on the spot - or capturing and torturing them, for that matter - but Rastenn was a trained warrior and an experienced spy. Besides, he hoped that he could still count on Vir to help him.
Hacking into the station’s computer to find the quarters assigned to the Centauri nobles had been the easy part. Staying out of the eyesight of the numerous guards had been an inspiring challenge, but he knew he’d be able to do so, in the end. Part of his extensive training had been to learn how to shield his mind, so that the telepaths Centauri nobles usually took with them to their travels would not be able to sense his presence.
All those minor tasks achieved, he was now lurking within eyesight to Minister Virini’s quarters, trying to figure out a way how to infiltrate them. That was a hard one, and he’d already spent there some time, wracking his mind over the problem, when the door opened and Londo and Vir stormed out.
The younger Centauri began to argue with his boss as soon as they were out the door. Fortunately, High Centauri was one of the languages Rastenn had learned during his training.
“I don't believe this!” the young aide ranted. “Is that why you're doing this? To win favour at the Royal Court? How can you do this to me?”
Londo stopped and tried with a gesture to shut him up, but it doesn't work. Vir simply continued to rant, regardless of who might have overheard them.
“To have G'Kar imprisoned or killed just to - to elevate your position?” he asked accusingly.
Now the Centaury ambassador was getting truly angry. “You're young, Vir!” he snapped. “You don't understand, but you will!”
With that, Londo continued down the corridor. Vir puffed under his breath for a while to vent a little steam before he could bring himself to follow. But in the end, he did follow - as always. Unlike any other people who had ever anything to do with Londo Mollari, his devotion seemed to be unwavering.
As soon as they were both gone, one of the guardsmen standing at the door of Minister Virini’s quarters left his post and hurried off in the opposite direction.
That left Rastenn with a difficult choice. He could go to the former Narn ambassador and warn him that whatever ambassador Mollari planned was a trap. Or he could follow Londo and Vir and try to figure out what it was exactly that Londo planned. What little he had heard didn’t sound good - and if Vir was so upset about it, perhaps Rastenn didn’t know half of it yet.
Deciding that more detailed knowledge would give him a better opinion to make the right choice, Rastenn followed the two Centauri, careful to remain covered all the time.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The official dinner, organized by Ivanova, had been set up in the middle of the chapel, with Brother Theo’s consent, meaning that the leader of Babylon 5’s Cistercian monks was also present. Sheridan seemed to have recovered a little from his exhaustion and welcomed his guests with genuine delight. Delenn and Ivanova, sitting on his left and right, respectively, exchanged satisfied little grins, seeing that their plan to dig him away from his concerns for a while has worked out quite nicely.
The senior officers of Voyager had chosen to come in civilian garb, which offered the Babylon 5 crowd fascinating insights into the clothing fashion of an alternate future Earth. Captain Janeway looked particularly elegant in her cream-coloured, three-piece trouser suit, with the matching silk blouse, and her long hair in a loose French twist. Commander Chakotay in light grey looked equally appropriate, although, as Lieutenant Paris commented, that kind of high-collared suit jacket he was wearing had been out since the 22nd century. Paris himself came in a Hawaii shirt that was so brightly coloured that it hurt the eyes, and Lieutenant Torres was wearing something matching in style while a lot less colourful. Young Ensign Kim was clad in a rather traditional fashion, like Chakotay, and seemed to feel a little out of his element among all those high-ranking officers.
The senior staff of Babylon 5 - wearing their black uniform - looked like a flock of ravens next to them... with the sole exception of Lillian Hobbs, who adamantly refused to come to dinner in uniform. Especially as this whole issue had ruined her long-planned date.
“Private life isn’t something we’d have a lot of on Babylon 5,” she explained, pushing in the wheelchair of Marcus, who’d put on his Ranger uniform to honour the event.
Harry and B’Elanna - who was still recovering from the thorough dressing down she’d received from Chakotay and was avoiding the executive officer’s looks as well as she could - promptly made place for the Ranger between the two of them. They were eager to learn more about the fine points of a Ranger’s life; Harry out of romantic interest, B’Elanna because she wanted to compare them with the life in the Maquis.
Sheridan introduced Brother Theo to the Voyager officers, explaining them that the old monk was the one who was coordinating the gathering of vital information back on Earth, with the help of his fellow clerics from several different confessions.
“His work is of the greatest value for us,” Babylon 5’s captain added. “With all our ties with EarthGov cut off, and ISA putting out nothing but propaganda, we can’t get reliable news about what’s going on on Earth.”
“I assume EarthGov propaganda doesn’t speak too friendly about you,” Chakotay said from where he was sitting next to Dr. Hobbs.
“No,” Ivanova replied darkly. “Usually, they say that we’re a bunch of renegades… or, better yet, that we’re pirates and traitors, working with aliens to subvert Earth.”
“And people are actually buying that crap?” Paris asked, his sympathies clearly lying with the Babylon 5 crowd. It didn’t surprise anyone who’d known him for a while. He did have his own problems with authorities, starting right away with his father.
“Well, the fact that they’ve fired on their own ships might have to do something with that,” Janeway commented.
“We didn’t start it,” Sheridan said tiredly. “They were the ones who fired at us first; the ones who tried to take over the station and give it to Night Watch and other paramilitary organizations to use it for their own purposes, regardless of the wishes - or the safety - of a quarter million people living here… most of whom aren’t even human.”
“I understand that,” Janeway replied. “I’m not sure the average Earth citizen does, though. Especially when they’re not given the whole truth.”
“Just like the average Starfleet officer doesn’t understand why the Maquis don’t accept the Federations/Cardassian treaty in our time,” Chakotay pointed out. “All they know is that there was a treaty that had finally ended the hostilities with Cardassia - and now some insignificant border zone colonies are endangering it… and the peace of the entire Federation.”
Janeway shot him an exasperated look. “This is not exactly the same, Commander!”
Chakotay didn’t even flinch under her reproving glare. “Looks pretty similar to me, Captain,” he replied. “But that is our problem, and irrelevant right now, as we, too, are efficiently cut off from home.”
“For the moment, perhaps,” Janeway said. “But I’m still hoping that he… how do you call it? That mysterious construction under the surface of Epsilon 3?”
“The Great Machine,” Ivanova supplied helpfully.
Janeway nodded. “Yes, thank you. I hope it would be able to open for us a way home, as soon as things have calmed down here.”
“So do I,” Chakotay said. “I want to get home as much as you do, Captain. But I’m afraid things won’t be calming down here quite yet.”
“No, I don’t think so, either,” Brother Theo said, his usually so jovial, round face darkening with concern. “At least no on Earth. The real problem back home is that folks have been conned into thinking they can’t change the world. That they have to accept what is.”
“But isn’t that what priests have preached for over two thousand years?” Harry Kim, who happened to be a practicing Christian, asked in confusion. “That we have to take everything from God’s hand with gratitude and grow under the burden?”
Brother Theo gave him a reproving look.
“If that would be the essence of Christian beliefs, young man, our Lord would not have died on the cross,” he replied tartly. “But He knew that the world is changing every day; and that we need to change with it. Because if we allow others to do all the changes, we will be responsible for the direction those changes take. Even if we had only been sitting on the sideline and watching.”
“And that is only the situation back on Earth,” Sheridan added. “We’ll have to deal with that, eventually. But our first, most urgent concern right now are the Shadows.”
“I heard they are on the move already,” Chakotay said. “I assume you are certain that sooner or later they will be targeting the station, too.”
Sheridan nodded. “The problem is, their tactic just doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “They keep attacking random targets, in a completely illogical manner. I can’t find any pattern in their attacks. It’s… it’s frustrating!”
“I’m sure it is,” Chakotay said. “What happens once they are engaged?”
Sheridan shrugged helplessly. “Then their tactics are very successful… not to mention devastating. It’s a contradiction.”
“Perhaps,” Chakotay allowed. “Perhaps those random attacks are logical in some way, though, and you just haven’t yet figured out how.”
“That is exactly what I told him when I found him sitting in the war room, thinking logically about illogical possibilities,” Delenn declared with twinkling eyes.
“Or thinking illogically about logical possibilities,” Ivanova added.
The two women exchanged sly grins again, congratulating each other for the obvious success of this particular evening.
“Perhaps what you need is a fresh perspective, Captain,” Ivanova continued; then he turned to Chakotay. “Commander, Garibaldi tells me that you used to lead seminars in advanced tactical training for Starfleet officers once. Is that true?”
“That was years ago,” Chakotay replied, “and in a very different context of galactic powers. But yes, it is true.”
“You did?” Sheridan asked, his interest suddenly piqued. “Would you mind to go through the intel with me then? Perhaps Susan is right and a fresh perspective will be helpful.”
“I can’t guarantee anything,” Chakotay replied with a shrug. “I’m not very familiar with the situation. But we can give it a try.”
“Commander,” Janeway intervened, disapproval clear in her voice, “I thought we agreed not to interfere with the natural development of history in this universe.”
“No, Captain,” Chakotay corrected. “We agreed not to take sides in the internal conflict within the Earth Alliance, and I still stand to that. But I can’t just lean back and watch as these… these Shadow things flatten entire planets and massacre helpless people by the millions, if there is the slightest chance to help prevent genocide. I’m sorry, but that just wouldn’t do.”
“The Prime Directive…” Janeway began, but Chakotay cut her off.
“…doesn’t apply here. We’re not speaking about some primitive pre-Warp civilization here… although, frankly, I’ve always found it horribly hypocritical to leave such cultures without help because the Prime Directive. This is a situation no Starfleet regs can give us clear guidelines how to handle it. This place… this reality might very well become the only one we’ll know fort he rest of our lives. And that makes it our responsibility, too.”
Janeway shook her head. “I can’t condone this, Chakotay.”
“By all due respect, Captain, you can’t prevent me from doing so, either,” Chakotay replied, now a bit more forcefully himself. “You can throw me out of Voyager, of course; but I think you know as well as I do that in that case I won’t be leaving alone.”
Janeway stared at him as if he’d hit her in the face - and quite hard, at that.
“Chakotay, why are you doing this?” she asked, visibly shaken. “I thought we had an understanding.”
“We did - and we still do,” Chakotay answered. “I’m sorry if you have to believe that every time I disagree with you I’m turning against you. I am not. But there are certain things I can’t allow to happen with good conscience - and not helping all those endangered people is one of those things. I might not be able help much; I might not be able to help at all. But I have at least to try - or I won’t be able to look into the mirror anymore.”
There was a long, tense silence around the dinner table; the Babylon 5 people realizing that this was a conflict between captain and executive officer that had been a long time coming, and that the confrontation might be changing a great many things in Voyager’s command structure. Finally, Sheridan cleared his throat and asked with forced brightness.
“By the way, where the hell is Garibaldi? I thought he wanted to join us for dinner - if only to criticize the skills of the cook from the vantage point of a self-declared gourmet chef.”
“That I had,” the security chief replied, coming through the door just on clue, “but I was delayed… by G’Kar.”
“Oh?” Delenn frowned; G’Kar’s actions, despite the Narn’s unwavering loyalty to their alliance, could be somewhat… eccentric at times. “What did he want from you?”
“Oh, nothing major, just a little favour,” Garibaldi slumped onto the empty chair next to Ivanova and eyed the presented dishes with a suspicious eye. “He needed something smuggled into the Narn homeworld, that’s all.”
“And what would that be?” Sheridan asked, clearly a little worried. “I hope not some weapons of mass destruction. Another Narn-Centauri war would be the last thing we could use right now; not to mention that the Narns wouldn’t have a rat’s chance in an open confrontation.”
“Nah,” Garibaldi replied; then he took a spoon and began to eat rather speedily as if he’d wanted to catch up with the others who were already at the second course. “Just himself.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Rastenn had no difficulties following Vir to the transport tube undetected. The young aide was upset and distracted and obviously paid his surroundings very little attention. He didn’t even give the Centauri guardsman already in the car as much as a glance when shuffling in.
Rastenn, on the other hand, did recognize the guard as the same one who’d been standing at Minister Virini’s door just a few moments ago and didn’t believe in a coincidence for a second. He didn’t like how this was going; and even less so when he spotted the communicator in the guard’s hand, and how the man was fingering a button in the very moment Vir joined him.
This looked awfully like a trap, but Rastenn knew he wouldn’t be able to rush into the transport tube in time. He needed to find another option.
Very few people knew about the emergency stairways of Babylon 5, hidden in the maintenance tunnels, but they did exist, of course. Maintenance crews had to get from one level to another in case the transport system was malfunctioning, Fortunately for Rastenn, the spies of the Star Raiders had not only mapped all those stairways years ago, the data he’d secretly copied in Sheridan’s office two weeks ago had also contained the access codes for the maintenance crews, and he had both maps and access codes imprinted into his near-perfect memory.
Taking the educated guess that Vir was returning to his own quarters, Rastenn took the closest such stairway and rushed to the right Green level. He found it an unusual way of getting from here to there - not to mention tiring - but he was a warrior; and he was young. He could do this.
And in fact, he almost made it in time. He arrived in the very moment when Vir stepped out of the car - just to see four dishevelled types rush him back into the car, right into the grasp of the guardsman. The tube doors closed behind them at once.
Rastenn hit the bulkhead in anger and sheer frustration. He only missed them by ten seconds or so! Then he took a few deep breaths to calm down. If he wanted to help Vir, he needed to think.
The four types seemed like the usual folks who populated DownBelow - people who had come to Babylon 5 in the hope to find their luck… and failed. The humans called them “lurkers”, and it was a known fact that they would do just about anything for money.
So the question was - who could have hired them in the first place?
Rastenn let the events of the last hour go through his head again and believed to have found the only possible answer: Lord Refa. The Centauri nobleman had visited Babylon 5 repeatedly during the previous months, and it was no secret that he and Ambassador Mollari were embittered rivals. Considering Lord Refa’s high position in the court of Emperor Cartagia, it was not hard to determine which one had had the luckier hand lately.
However, the short argument Rastenn had overheard between Vir and his employer revealed that the ambassador must have found a way to elevate his position in the Royal Court again - most likely to Refa’s disadvantage. That was something Lord Refa would not like. But to thwart Londo’s plans, he had to know what exactly those plans were, had he not?
The key to this knowledge was obviously Vir. Vir, who was privy to most of his employer’s plotting and planning… and who was unwaveringly loyal to the scheming ambassador.
In Rastenn’s opinion, that was an admirable loyalty wasted on an unworthy person, but if Lennier was right, Vir obviously considered it the calling of his hearts to take care of Londo Mollari, and who was he to interfere with someone else’s calling?
Which did not mean that he would be sitting idly and letting the idealistic young Centauri - and was that not a contradiction in itself? - getting killed, or at least seriously hurt, as a result of said misplaced royalty. He was gong to rescue Vir… if he could only find him in time.
As it stood beyond doubt for him that Lord Refa had been behind Vir’s abduction, the courtier would probably want to speak to the young aide - preferably somewhere private. Rastenn went to the next computer terminal to find out where Lord Refa’s quarters were. That was where he would start; and hopefully, Refa would lead him to the place where Vir was being kept.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Garibaldi’s casual declaration about G’Kar’s plans caused a mild shock by Babylon 5’s command staff.
“Is he bloody insane?” Marcus demanded. “There’s a standing warrant for his arrest back on Narn. If he goes home, he’ll be stuck in prison - if he’s very, very lucky. Shot at first sight would be more likely, in fact.”
“I told him the same thing,” Garibaldi shrugged, “but he didn’t listen - nobody ever does. All he said was that he had to go, no matter what the risks were.”
“Why?” Ivanova asked incredulously.
Garibaldi rolled his eyes. “I have no idea! ‘A personal matter’, he said. He left half an hour ago.”
“For Narn?” Sheridan asked with a frown. “What ship would still choose that route since the planet has practically been levelled by the Centauri?”
“The Rangers can bring him in quietly,” Marcus said, “and wait for him in a hidden place until he returns. It is doable. But once there, he would be on his own. We are not allowed to interfere.”
“You guys can really smuggle him in?” Tom Paris looked at the Ranger with newly born respect. “That would require some damn fine piloting, if the reports I’ve seen so far are accurate - and a great deal of madness to try doing so in the first place.”
“We are Rangers,” Marcus quoted the Anla’shok mantra with a shrug and a smile. “We walk in the dark places no others will enter. We stand on the bridge and no one may pass! We live for The One, we die for The One,” he added, smiling at Delenn, who smiled back at him.
“Yeah, but do you have to die stupidly?” Paris grumbled, the cynic in him not quite buying into the whole Ranger philosophy.
“Stupidity,” Marcus replied in a dignified manner, although his eyes were twinkling, “is entirely a matter of perspective. One person’s madness is another person’s great revelation.”
“But most likely the same madness anyway,” Brother Theo commented, and everyone laughed.
“Speaking of which,” Brother Theo added, “we have a delegation of the True Gospel Mission Baptist Church visiting right now; in truth, they were the ones smuggling in all those data crystals from home. They wish to offer an open church service for everyone who might be interested - to show the aliens a more… joyous alternative of Christian beliefs, as they said.”
“You wouldn’t mind…?” Sheridan asked. Brother Theo was a useful ally whom he didn’t want to antagonize.
The old monk shrugged. “The chapel is for everyone, and far be it from me to prevent any interested aliens from getting the shock of their lives,” he replied. “You might warn those of sensitive hearing to take earplugs with them, though. Members of this particular church interpret the Scripture’s encouragement of 'making a joyful noise unto the Lord’ quite literally I’m afraid.”
Everyone laughed again. It was hard not to do so. Bother Theo had an almost infectious way to take everything with a pinch of good humour.
“Well, I think it’s a good idea,” Sheridan said. “We all can use a little joy right now, even if it’s the… erm… noisy version of it. What about your crew, Captain?” he looked at Janeway. “Would they like to attend, too? We’re a little tight for space right now, but if they use the chapel, a few dozen people more won’t count, I think.”
“Some of the human crew would doubtlessly want to,” Janeway said thoughtfully, and so would I, to be honest. It would be a taste of home - something we haven’t had for over two years.”
“Your homes must be fairly noisy places, then” Brother Theo commented sarcastically - then he flashed at her a grandfatherly smile. “But you’ll be most welcome, of course. The service will take place tomorrow, at twenty hundred hours.”
“I can take over Gamma shift, Captain,” Chakotay offered. “I assume Tuvok would find such a ceremony… fascinating.”
It was the Voyager crew’s turn to burst out in laughter now; their hosts exchanged blank looks.
“Never mind,” Paris chuckled. “You’ll understand once you’ve spent more time in the company of Vulcans.” He looked at Chakotay in askance. “And you really don’t want to be there, Commander? No nostalgic feelings whatsoever?”
“I’m not from Earth to begin with,” Chakotay reminded him, “and I’m not even nominally Christian. I can take my spirit walk whenever or wherever I want. You go; you’ll need it more than I do.”
“Well, if you think so,” Paris said doubtfully.
Chakotay nodded. “I do.”
“We should get back to Voyager, then,” Janeway said. “It’s getting late, and most of us are on Alpha shift tomorrow.”
“Which means - what exactly?” Sheridan inquired.
“It’s the first duty shift of the day, which is from oh-six-hundred to fourteen hundred hours,” Harry explained readily. “Usually, the senior officers are on duty during alpha shift, with one replacement crewmember each, in case of emergencies. Beta shift is from fourteen hundred to twenty hundred, and Gamma shift is the dog watch - it lasts all night.”
“Ensign, I don’t believe Captain Sheridan wanted such a detailed answer,” Janeway said. She didn’t add that the duty roster of the ship was not the business of outsiders, but the warning was clear enough.
Harry blushed in embarrassment. Even after more than two years in the Delta Quadrant, he sometimes turned back into an over-eager cadet. As Paris had put once, he just couldn’t stop babbling, and although he knew Tom hadn’t meant it to be a reprimand, he also knew that it was a habit he had to break eventually.
“There’s nothing wrong with a detailed answer,” Marcus intervened smoothly on his behalf. “Details are good - they make senior officers happy. Especially when ordered neatly in a properly written report. Fortunately, the Rangers are not required to fill in written reports,” he added, and the others grinned involuntarily.
“That’s it: you belong back to the MedLabs,” Dr. Hobbs declared sternly. “You’re having too good a time - it can’t be healthy for your recovery.”
The others laughed again. Harry and B’Elanna offered to help wheeling Marcus back to his sick room, but Chakotay waved the offer away.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “Dr. Hobbs and I have things to discuss anyway.”
Sheridan glanced at the lady doctor who looked particularly lovely in her prune-coloured skirt and jacket, and realized for the first time that there was something going on. He broke into a grin that nearly split his face in two.
“Discussing things; that’s what they call it nowadays?” he drawled. “I must definitely lack a private life being so far behind the current vernacular in euphemisms. Well, have a good time, you two.”
“Thank you, Captain, I’ll do my best,” Chakotay replied, completely unfazed. Then he looked at Janeway. “I’ll see you on the bridge, Captain, around the end of your shift.
Janeway nodded in agreement, and shortly thereafter the Voyager officers left the chapel to return to their ship, Lillian and Chakotay were the next to leave, pushing Marcus’ wheelchair in front of them.
“They’d make a nice couple,” Garibaldi commented. “Too bad that the whole thing has no future - what, with them belonging to different universes and stuff.”
But Brother Theo shook his head thoughtfully. “Who knows, Mr. Garibaldi, who knows…? Our Lord leads us on strange paths sometimes. Well, good night, everyone. I still have Compline to pray with my brethren, and tomorrow there will be more work.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In the diplomatic area of Green Sector, Rastenn of the Star Riders was hiding in a maintenance tunnel opposite Lord Refa’s quarters and waited, with the patience only a sphinx - or a very determined Minbari - could maintain.
Part 05