A Day Late 2: Rebels
Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words.
Susan Ivanova, acting commander of the Babylon station, walked quickly towards the main Security offices. Garibaldi had sent her an urgent summons, and as much as it cut into her hectic day, she didn't want to ignore it. The last ten days had been the worst of her life, even worse than the month that preceded them. She had thought it would all come back together when John had miraculously returned from Z'ha'dum, alive, and ready to lead them into battle against their enemies. Unfortunately, he'd left almost immediately, to follow Delenn and to stop the fleet from attacking the Shadow's homeworld. Before he'd gone, he had spoken with what remained of the League worlds' representatives. They had been impressed, and seemed to be considering rejoining the Alliance Sheridan and Delenn had been assembling. A few ships had even returned, and combined with the two Minbari war cruisers, and the few White Stars Delenn had left; she'd begun to hope that the station would have a chance in any further attack.
Then the Shadow ships had arrived.
They'd appeared out of nowhere, three of them circling the station, screeching their battle cries or whatever that hellish noise was. She'd scrambled the StarFuries, and was ready to start the uphill fight, when a message had come in, broadcast without the benefit of the station's comsystem. They wanted to talk.
The voice of the Shadows slid down your spine like a cold knife just splitting the skin. She'd spoken to them from C&C, listening to their proposal with disbelief. They wanted to make her an offer. It was Sheridan they wanted; not the station, not the ships guarding it, not the people on board. They had followed him here, but the traces of so many ships entering and leaving through the gate had confused the trail. All they wanted was a direction, a pointer as to where to find the Captain, and in return they would guarantee the safety of the station and its inhabitants.
She's refused, of course. What she hadn't expected was the reaction of the others, especially that of her fellow officer and friend, Michael Garibaldi.
Michael pulled her aside, and said in an urgent whisper, "Susan, you've got to tell them!"
She'd stared at him a moment in shock, then whispered back, "Are you crazy? I can't just tell them where the Captain's gone…which would of course also send them after Delenn and the fleet! Besides, the Vorlons are blasting away at any allies of the Shadows…we'd be leaving ourselves open to their attacks!"
"I know that, but the Shadows are sure to guess where they went anyway. Why shouldn't we protect ourselves and the people here with a little information sharing? The Vorlon ambassador is off station right now, and this doesn't have to get back to his little spy Lyta. It's not like the Captain and Delenn have shown any great concern about what happens back here. We don't even know if they are coming back. Maybe they're taking off to hide out in Minbari space; the Minbari are mostly uninvolved in the war, aren't they?"
His voice had risen, and the crew was obviously taking in the discussion with interest. This had to stop before she had a split in the ranks to contend with. "Michael, stop this. That's an order! This is my decision, and there isn't time for discussion. There certainly isn't room for disagreement!"
She announced in a loud voice, "No deal."
"Very well," the voice sounded brusque and impatient. "We will leave you now, but the offer will remain open. If you would offer us assistance, or at the least no resistance, we would spare you."
The ships had simply blinked out of sight, leaving behind only a wavering after-image on the screens. A cold bead of sweat ran down her back, and she fervently prayed that if they did return, she'd have a little more firepower and a lot more support to fight them off.
Things had gone from bad to worse after the confrontation. The rumours concerning the offer of guaranteed safety, at least from one set of combatants, had spread through the station with incredible speed. It was obvious that half her staff disagreed with her, and all the civilians were scared witless and more than willing to deal with the devil. Small acts of sabotage and disruption sprouted up all over the station. Security was having trouble keeping a lid on things. Finally, after a spate of violent crimes in Downbelow spilled over into the main areas of the station, capped by a gang who'd obtained black market weapons holding a group of shopkeepers hostage for 24 hours, she'd been forced to declare martial law to regain control. It had worked, and the last few days had been more peaceful. Garibaldi had backed her in that decision. He'd had his forces suited up and armed within hours of her announcement, and had blanketed the station with them. It had given her some breathing space to deal with all the other problems that came at her from all sides now.
Susan sighed; it would be so much easier if John were here. Her job had always been implementation; he made the decisions and she made them work. Now she was playing both roles and it was taking a toll. She'd been relying on Garibaldi taking up some of the slack, but he'd been alternately sullen and withdrawn, and largely uncooperative, except in the implementation of martial law four days ago. He continued to downplay the amount of tension and in-fighting that had sprung up across the station, even among their own people.
Rubbing one temple, in an attempt to relieve the sudden headache that had sprung up behind her left eye, she wondered if she had time to stop by MedLab for some painkillers, and decided she probably didn't. She was still squinting from the pain when she turned the corner into the Security office and found herself facing three guards with drawn PPGs, aimed straight at her. Behind her, she heard the door close, and Garibaldi's voice say, "Sit down, Susan. Over there."
Crossing the floor to the chair in front of the viewscreens that covered the public areas of the station, as well as vital function areas, Susan sat down carefully on the edge of the seat. "What's going on?" Trying to lighten the grim mood of the guards, she looked at them and said, "You guys really want that extra vacation day put back in your contract, don't you?"There was no answering smile from either, and she turned her attention to Garibaldi. "So, you going to answer me, or do we play twenty questions until I figure it out? What is this all about?" Trying to keep a rein on her temper, she kept her voice low and conversational. They taught you all this in the Academy, but she was pretty sure hostage negotiation wasn't supposed to happen when you were the hostage.
"Susan, I'm sorry." Garibaldi's face was grim. "But you're getting us deeper and deeper into this mess, and I just can't stand by and watch it anymore. There are too many innocent people on this station, and we need to get them out of the line of fire."
"I'm doing everything I can to protect the civilians, Michael! More and more League ships have called in and said they are going to come back…the fleet is taking shape! It may even be ready when the Captain and Delenn get back…"
"That's exactly what I mean! Assembling the fleet here is painting a big fat target on the station. And when you all take off to carry out Mr. Back-from-the-Dead's plan; you'll leave all these people here, stuck, unable to get away. A few StarFuries and a random White Star or two won't cut it when the Shadows come calling. Not to mention the Vorlons!" Garibaldi leaned over the chair, his hands gripping the arms, his face inches from hers. "This is not…going…to work, Susan! It's crazy! We could barely stop the Shadows! How can we fight them both?" He pushed the chair away from him, sending her bumping against the far wall, and stalked about the room. "No, this station has to be taken out of bounds. The members of the League who rebelled against Delenn's fleet had the right idea. We need to be neutral in this. We've had an offer from one side; maybe if we go with that, we can convince the Vorlons we're sincere in staying out of the whole thing."
"Neutral!" Susan cried. "You're the one who's crazy! Neither the Shadows or the Vorlons have honored any protest of neutrality or non-combatant status. They've both happily slaughtered civilians with no mercy and apparently no concern! What makes you think they'll care about your 'neutrality'!"
"It's a better plan than poking them in the eye!"
"No, it's not!" Susan started to rise from the chair, but one of the guards gestured towards her with his weapon and she sank slowly back down in her seat. "And what about Earth? You think Clark will honor your position? Who's going to protect you from your own government?"
"Maybe we don't need protecting from Earth…or maybe we can play them all off against each other. I don't know!" Garibaldi said in frustration. Then he added with frost in his voice, "But I do know I don't trust Sheridan anymore, and I definitely don't trust that alien he brought back from Z'ha'dum. For all we know, that guy's the leader of the Shadows or…maybe he's their mortal enemy! Who knows? I don't like being kept in the dark, and I don't like being asked to take everything on faith. I'm not you."
Susan shook her head, and said, "No, you're not. What are you going to do?"
Garibaldi almost smirked at her. "I've got the only armed force on the station, and they're loyal to me. Well, mostly. A few we've had to lock up in the cells. It'd be easier if we did this with your cooperation…"
"When Hell freezes over." Susan was gripping the arms of her chair. This was a nightmare.
Garibaldi smiled grimly, "I figured that. Well, you can join them in the cells. I plan to call a meeting of the junior staff and explain the situation to them. Some will see things my way, hopefully enough to run the place. Then we'll send out messengers, to the warring parties, explaining our new position. We'll contact Earth too. I don't want to surrender our independence right now, but we can start negotiations to move that direction."
Susan stared at him. "This'll never work, Michael. John and Delenn will be back soon, with a fleet of ships to take it all back."
Garibaldi laughed softly, "I'm not you, remember? We've got a quarter of a million hostages here." He crossed his arms tightly and went on, "It's for their own good, really. They'll be safer this way. You're playing a weak hand, Susan. You couldn't keep the League here after Sheridan left before; you won't be able to now, not for long. The doubts will return long before Sheridan does. Besides, would he attack the station? Really?" He shook his head, "Not him. They'll have to find someplace else to play war. From now on, Babylon 5 is off limits to Sheridan, and everyone who follows him."
Delenn woke at an odd angle, tilted, but not the traditional 45 degrees. Her bed was both softer and harder than normal, agreeably warm, and rising and falling in a gentle rhythm which was echoed in her own heartbeat. She moved closer, pressing her body up against his, and shifted her head so she could feel his pulse, reassuringly steady, under her cheek. John had refused to even try the narrow tilted bed in her quarters, and they'd ended up sleeping on the floor.
In all honesty, the sleeping part had come much later in the evening.
After a sadly brief interlude to themselves, the interruptions had started. Progress reports on the repairs to her ship, and the others in the fleet, came in over the com. Ventarr's report on his ship had included a cryptic message from the alien Lorien, whom she had yet to meet. John listened to the message, and his face clouded over, becoming tense and stern. Her heart stuttered momentarily in dismay. He'd refused to discuss what was bothering him, forcing a smile and saying that he had better things to do at the moment. She filed away her questions for later, and happily let herself be distracted again.
The chime at the door had rung at one point, and when they opened it, they found only a tray on the floor, with two meals on it, and a note in Marcus' handwriting that read 'Room service. Courtesy of The Management. Don't forget to tip the staff!' John had laughed at loud at that, and she'd had to kiss him then, even before the door closed. She couldn't resist the way his face lit up, crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes, his lips curving upward and lifting her heart up with them.
There was another break when the healer arrived to tend to her hand. It hadn't taken long. Some of the cuts were deep, but it was too late to safely laser-stitch them closed. A kind of breathable glue was used to seal the wounds, which also let air in to aid in healing and prevent sepsis. John told her afterwards that they used to use something called butterfly sutures for this kind of injury. That somehow led to a discussion of butterfly kisses, and the subsequent demonstrations carried them along to the next interruption.
Finally it was late enough that she called the bridge and told them no more calls were to be put through for anything short of a Shadow fleet or a Vorlon planet-killer. John added under his breath that they had better be damn sure of either or preferably both.
Silence fell over the room, as Delenn walked carefully about the small space, lighting every candle she had. Shadows danced around her, and for a moment she shivered. Instantly John was behind her, his warm bulk a shield against her momentary apprehension. She leaned back into him, letting go of fear and pain and doubt, taking strength in his sheltering embrace. Turning in his arms, she lifted her face to his, meeting him halfway in a fierce kiss that burned with mutual desire. In between kisses, they removed each other's clothes, laying claim to each other with eyes and hands, fingers and lips.
John threw the softest of their clothing onto the floor, covering them with a silken white robe. He slowly knelt in front of her, kissing his way down her body, making her shake with the effort to remain standing under the ministrations of his hands and mouth. She leaned over to stroke his broad shoulders, and he turned his face up to capture a kiss. Her hair was falling all around him, and he took hold of her hands, gently tugging her down onto the floor beside him.
Increasing intense caresses swiftly gave way to all-consuming passion which threatened to engulf them both, and it took John some effort to pull back from her. He raised up on one elbow, facing her, and said, his voice ragged with desire, "I don't know all your traditions, Delenn. We've done this only once before, and that night…" He swore under his breath as pain filled her eyes. Cupping her cheek in his hand, and looking directly into her eyes, he said emphatically, "That night was magic. Don't let what happened afterwards take away the memories."
Tears wet her lashes, and she turned her face into his palm and kissed it.
He continued gently, "I just need to be sure you want this, now."
She stretched up one hand and lightly outlined his lips with her fingertips, "We made our own magic that night, didn't we?" Reaching around behind his head, her fingers meshed in his short, soft hair, and she pulled him back down to her, whispering as she did, "I am sure. This is what I want. Let us make some new memories."
As the light came up slowly in her quarters, indicating that a new day cycle was beginning, Delenn was still sure. It was not in keeping with Minbari traditions, but she was no longer wholly Minbari, and besides, she had come so close to losing him. She knew she was rationalizing what would be considered scandalous behavior by her clan and caste, but at the moment she no longer cared.
Previously, she had been determined to follow her traditions to the letter, so that no shadow would hang over her bonding with John. She had delayed and denied her own feelings until she no longer could. After succumbing to her own desire that second night of the sleep-watching ritual, the aftermath had almost seemed like a punishment, for that, and all her myriad errors. Now all that seemed irrelevant.
Deep in the night, he had told her what happened on Z'ha'dum; that he had fallen, and that he had died. The news had sounded like the deep tolling of a bell in her chest. She had forgotten to breathe as he went on, telling her of Lorien, and his efforts to bring him back and how he had clung to the thought of her…how she had brought him back to life, and to love. He had thanked her; and forgiven her, and she hadn't known what to say. She was the cause of his death, and his reason for living, all at the same time. It had all seemed too much to bear, and so she took refuge in physical expression of her love. Words were no longer adequate. It seemed best to say nothing at all.
There, she was crying again. It seemed involuntary, a reaction that she could no longer control.
"Hey, what's going on?"
His gentle query stroked her with a feather light touch. "I don't know. I seem prone to tears lately." She tried to sound a logical note, "It is not like me."
"You've been through a lot lately. Don't beat yourself up over it." John wriggled his arm out from under her, and luxuriously stretched both arms over his head. "Personally, I'm feeling pretty good this morning."
She ran her hand over his chest, and down his body, "You do feel good at that."
Laughing, he replied, "No one ever told me Minbari were so, um, insatiable. Sexually, I mean."
"Are we?" she answered, an arch look on her face. "Perhaps we should test this theory. I do not think it has been given enough attention in the past."
He rolled over to face her, and asked seriously, "What part of you hasn't gotten enough attention? Tell me; I can't believe I missed much last night."
She began to laugh, and continued as the door chimed. "I will make you a list for future reference. Now I have to find enough clothing to answer the door with propriety."
"The door demands propriety?" answered John, as he fished through the pile of clothing for a outer robe for her to don. He stood, and held it for her to put on, and whispered in her ear, "Don't let them know you're wearing nothing underneath; it'll be our secret."
She started to protest, then blushed as she realized he was teasing, and walked towards the door. She seemed unable to stop smiling this morning. As she neared it, she called back, "Perhaps you should look to your own propriety?"
He grabbed the rest of the clothes on the floor, and disappeared into the bath. She was still laughing as she opened the door. It was a messenger from Ventarr's ship. Lorien had been brought on board, and wished to speak with Captain Sheridan.
They gathered around the oval table in the small conference room; Delenn noted that John was sitting next to Lorien, and conferring closely with him while the other took their seats. Ventarr had accompanied Lorien, and Marcus had joined them.
John spent little time introducing and explaining Lorien to the others. The discussion ranged from how much more time was needed for repairs, how long it would take to return to the station, and speculation on how the fleet that Susan was in charge of assembling was coming. The ideological basic of the conflict was revealed, with some skepticism voiced by both Ventarr and Marcus as to whether this was truly the root of the matter. Delenn sat in silence, watching and listening rather than speaking. It was somewhat intimidating to be in the presence of what appeared to be the first First One, and she studied him covertly, wondering what was his true purpose. She flushed when the alien's yellow eyes met hers, holding his glance steady while she looked down in embarrassment.
John noticed Lorien's gaze and looked at her questioningly, "Did you have a question, Delenn?"
Hesitating for only a moment, she said, "I have nothing but questions, it seems. Why is Lorien here? What does he propose to do regarding the war?" She looked at John, possible implications tumbling through her head.
"He is…important to my plans. I can't go into more detail at this point. You'll have to trust me on this," John replied, confident in her backing, and that of the others.
Ventarr nodded his assent immediately.
"Good enough for now," Marcus said, "But we'll need a little more detail when it comes to actual strategy, you know."
"When we get back to the station, Marcus. We need to get everyone together quickly. There isn't much time," said John.
"Yes, quite," said Marcus shortly. He added, with an intense look, and an odd tone in his voice. "Time is of the essence, Captain."
John gave the human Ranger a sharp look, then shared an enigmatic glance with Lorien. These exchanges caught Delenn's attention, and increased her uneasiness. There was something going on that was being left unspoken; some knowledge that Lorien, John, and Marcus shared. A chill ran down her spine. She'd told Jeff Sinclair once about that feeling; the feeling that someone was walking across your grave. She didn't like it, and she disliked even more the idea that they were hiding something from her.
There was a chime from the wall monitor. Marcus stood, and walked over to answer the call. The communications officer announced that a White Star had been sighted, and was bearing a message from Babylon 5. It would arrive within the hour.
Zack Allan rubbed his eyes as he walked into the mess hall. It seemed months ago that the Captain had gone to Z'ha'dum and disappeared. It was only two days since Chief Garibaldi had taken command of the Babylon station from her, and he'd been working for 36 hours straight. He was in desperate need of some caffeine. Looking around, he spotted Lou Welch sitting by himself at one of the round tables. He made his way through the thin crowd of off-duty crew members. Some of the pilots and junior command staff stared at him hostilely, their eyes burning a hole in the back of his EarthForce jacket. He'd been wondering why he bothered to put on the uniform anymore; he'd participated, however reluctantly, in a mutiny.
Of course it wasn't his first mutiny; that had been under Captain Sheridan, when they'd declared independence from Earth. They'd kept the uniform, and ranks, and chain of command then as well. The suspension of their pay hadn't been pleasant, but the Captain and Ivanova had busted their asses to get traffic moving, and credits flowing into the station again. Meanwhile, they'd set up a system of chits that covered most basic expenses. A lot of the guys were worried about their pensions, invested back on Earth. The ones who had family back home that they sent money to were even more upset. Still, they'd all pulled together. A few resigned and left the station, but most had stayed. They'd filled in the gaps in Security with the Narns under G'Kar's direction.
"Hey Lou," he said as he reached the table. "How's it going?"
"I'm alive and kicking, Zack. What more could a guy want?" answered the crusty older man.
"A guy could want some proper coffee. Remember coffee, Lou? Hot and black and strong enough to jump start the dead?" Zack laughed bitterly. They hadn't seen coffee in years; it was still a rare delicacy on Earth, and you just couldn't get it out this far. Tea just didn't do the job for him.
"Yeah well. I couldn't afford the good stuff even when it was around," Lou gestured to the seat next to him. "Pull up a chair."
"I'll just go get something to drink. Be right back." Zack ambled over to the row of urns set up on the side. He picked a dark fermented tea with a jolt of extra caffeine added. It was the best he could do. Sighing, he walked up to the counter to look at what passed for sandwiches. These days it seemed the best he could do wasn't near good enough. Before he'd went off-shift, he'd tried talking once more with the Chief.
"Zack, I tell you I know what I'm doing, and I'm getting kind of tired of telling you that over and over again." The frustration, bordering on anger, pulsed through Garibaldi's voice. "It's under control."
"It is not under control!" Zack tried to modulate his voice, lowering it to a confidential sympathetic tone. "The Narns are getting restless. They signed up to do security, and are following G'Kar's instructions to follow your orders, for now. But they know something's wrong…they know Ivanova was left in charge. They keep asking when she's coming back, and when G'Kar's coming back. They've heard the rumours about Sheridan's return, too, just like all the others…"
"Well, you can just stop those rumors for one thing. We don't know who, or what, came back from Z'ha'dum!"
"I know what I saw. And I know Ivanova believed it was the Captain."
"She'd have believed anything by then. She was desperate. I think she suspected something was wrong; look how fast she got him off the station!"
Zack ran his hand through his hair, and tried again. "She believes…" he stopped at Garibaldi's suspicious look, "I mean, she believed it was him." He had to be careful; he was not supposed to be in contact with the Commander. "Look, what are we going to do about the ships that keep coming in to join the Captain's fleet?"
"I don't know." Garibaldi slumped back into his chair. He'd kept his office in the Security Office. He had designated some of the command staff on his side to run Ops out of C&C. He hated going up there; it reminded him of simpler times. He exclaimed, "They keep asking to come! They've heard the stories, and now they want to join up. From what I've heard, Susan and Delenn couldn't pay them to stick around before!"
"That's always the way, isn't it?" Zack said sympathetically. He hesitated, then plunged back in, "Rumor has it that Earth has been in contact with you."
Garibaldi's eyes narrowed, "There are entirely too many rumors on this station. Yeah, they have. What of it?"
"You know what would happen to Ivanova if you let them back in here?"
Garibaldi looked uncomfortable. "I won't let anything happen to her, Zack. That's not what this is about."
Zack lost it at that. "Yeah, well, what is it about? It's not about the war, it's not about Earth…you told me you agreed with the decision to declare independence, to fight back against Clark! Now you're negotiating with him? What makes you think you'll have any say in what happens to any of us! Sheridan, Ivanova, me, you, anybody!"
"You've had your say. Again. Now get out; I've got work to do." Garibaldi said coldly.
"I'm going. I just can't get over the feeling that you're making a mistake. I just…"
"I said get out of here. Do I have to call someone to escort you?"
Zack looked at him. "I don't know you anymore, you know? The Captain came back, and it was him, you could tell. You came back, and, well, you've changed. The sad thing is, you don't even see it."
He'd left it at that, his suspicions unspecified, but his attitude clear. He wondered if he'd be relieved of duty, but decided that they were too short of men for that to happen. Still, he wouldn't be surprised if he pulled guard duty at the incinerator for a couple of weeks. Returning to Lou, he sat down with the steaming cup held between his two hands. Lou seemed lost in his own thoughts, so Zack drank in silence, continuing to wonder at how his world had changed.
It had all happened so quickly, that was what got to him. The Shadow attack and the Chief's disappearance, the loss of the Captain…it was a terrible time for everyone. Then Ivanova straightened up and started running things, and Delenn got the fleet ready to go, and he'd found the Chief. Then the Captain came back, which should have made everything all right again, or as right as it could be in the middle of a war, but he left again right away, and it all went straight to hell.
"Hey Lou," asked Zack, "What do you think about all this?"
"What, the Chief taking over? I got no problem with it. He's always been my boss in this job. The brass do what they do; they tell him and he tells me. If he says Ivanova's off her rocker, then better he tells us what to do."
"Did you hear anything about the Captain coming back a little while ago? It was all over the station." Zack carefully left out the information that he had been one of the security party that had greeted Sheridan and Lorien on their arrival. The others in the group had stopped talking about it; no one likes to be constantly ridiculed.
"I hear a lot of things. I believe what I see, and I didn't see the man return. Besides, all the aliens say it…'no one returns from Z'ha'dum'" He said the last in a loud spooky voice. "So it don't seem likely, does it?"
"No," Zack said softly, "It doesn't." He got up to leave, saying a quick good-bye to Lou. As he walked out of the mess he said to himself, "But I know what I saw, and what I saw was Captain Sheridan. Ivanova was right about that. I gotta do something. I just don't know what I can do." He walked away, hands clenched tightly, hidden in his pockets.
After the messenger from Babylon 5 had delivered the latest news; of the visit from the Shadow ships ten days prior, the deteriorating security situation that had led to the imposition of martial law six days ago, and the coup against Ivanova just two days ago; they gathered in the small conference room off the main bridge. Ventarr had returned to his ship. Lennier had released himself from the small medical facility, and was sitting in a chair, his jaw tight against the pain he still felt. Marcus stood by the door, absently opening and closing his denn'bok. Those who knew him realized he was on the verge of exploding. Delenn was seated across from Lennier, her eyes fixed on some mental picture in the middle distance. John paced up and down, his hands clenched into fists. Lorien stood to one side, calmly observing the others.
"What the hell does Michael think he's doing?" John said, for the fourth time.
"We cannot be sure. The messenger had only the barest of details," Delenn said calmly. "All we know if that he has taken command of the station. He requested the two White Stars and Minbari warship remain, but at a distance. He has declared neutrality in the conflict with the Shadows and the Vorlons. And he has approached the Earth government, requesting talks on the status of the station."
"But what was he thinking? He can't negotiate with Earth!" And he certainly can't negotiate with the Shadows or the Vorlons!" John leaned on the table, his hands flat as if he was holding it steady.
"We don't know what he thought. I, for one, don't care what he thought. I am not even sure he is capable of thought." Marcus' voice was icy. "The question is, what are we going to do about it?"
"The messenger also brought the news of the Centauri Emperor's demise, and the subsequent liberation of Narn," pointed out Lennier.
"That is true. Since we are decided against the direct attack on Z'ha'dum, and Babylon 5 is off limits at this time, perhaps we could go to Narn. It would be good to hear G'Kar's impression of this turn of events," said Delenn.
Marcus said flatly, "I am going back to the station."
Delenn nodded, "I rather thought you would. We need to have someone there."
"I am not going there to spy, or to carry messages, or to try to work things out with Mr. Bloody Garibaldi," declared Marcus. "I am going to find out what's happened to Susan." He stopped the movement with his pike, and concluded, "If he has harmed her…"
Delenn rose, and placed her hand on his, "There will be justice if there is need for it. You had better go back with the messenger as far as you can, then get onto the station in your own way."
"We walk in the dark places…" Marcus said, looking into her eyes, and seeing only concern and understanding.
"You will find her. Use your own judgment as to what to do next. Are we agreed?" She looked around the room. Lennier nodded, but John was staring off into space, as if transfixed by a thought.
"Negotiation…neutrality…" they heard him say softly. He exchanged a quick glance with Lorien. "We need to talk about those Shadow ships. Are they the same ones who attacked us? What are they up to?" Then, he went on, "What are you waiting for, Marcus? Go find her, and make sure she's all right. I have a couple of ideas, but I need to speak to Lorien first, and then to G'Kar. We'll meet at Narn."
Stephen Franklin put the finishing touches on the ligatures holding the Pak'mara's jaw together. "You'll have to eat liquids for a while. Do you have something like straws?" He help up a plastic tube in front of the alien's eyes. It nodded slowly. "Use them, then. Don't try to move your jaw for four days." At the look of panic on the alien's face, he said soothingly, "It won't be so bad. I can give you a liquid diet designed for your people…" The Pak'mara shook his head violently, then made a noise clearly indicative of pain. "All right, then. You'll manage. It's only a short time."
The alien nodded and clumsily stood and shuffled out of MedLab. One of its friends waited outside to escort it home. Stephen smiled; it was another job well done. Then he looked around and saw that there were no patients waiting for once, and removed his scrubs hurriedly. He called out to the orderly, "I'm off. Link to me if there are any emergencies!"
"Have a good evening, Dr. Franklin!" the orderly called back.
Stephen headed straight for the maximum security cells where Susan Ivanova was being held. He had clashed with Garibaldi over his takeover of the station, but had reluctantly decided his duty to his patients took priority over political maneuverings. He was still aghast at Michael's stormtrooper tactics, but at least his position of neutrality in the conflict gave him room to insist on his access to prisoners. He checked on Ivanova once a day, just to make sure she was being treated properly. She was furious with him, of course, demanding each visit that he take some step to return the station to her control. He'd given up explaining his position to her, instead letting her vent her frustration at him, and making sure she was all right. Those were currently his only goals.
This visit was slightly different than the rest. Susan seemed subdued, almost resigned. He hated to see her like that, and wished fervently that there was more that he could do.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his face creased with concern.
"By my calculations, John and Delenn will be here soon. What if they are walking into a trap, Stephen? They'll find out the situation before they come aboard, from the Rangers and the Minbari. But I don't know what Garibaldi has done. Is he in contact with Earth, with those Shadows that visited us before? It could end up in a firefight. If they're both killed, it's all over. I don't know why I can't convince him of that. He really has bought into this neutrality idea. Like the Shadows and the Vorlons are still playing a game with rules and laws."
"I know, I know. I'm just not sure what we can do!" Stephen replied in frustration.
She looked at him, her eyes alight with determination. "Get me out of here. Let me try and rally the pilots, and the junior command staff. They'll listen to me; I know they will! If you'd just…"
Stephen shook his head. "I think Garibaldi's people will take you out. Things are that tense. You're right; there's dissension out there. Not everyone buys into Garibaldi's leadership, but they've got the weaponry locked up! What can we do? There isn't time for a guerrilla movement to form, or become effective. If the war is coming to a head out there, then by the time we got people organized, and began resisting, it'll be too late."
"I've got a plan. If you'd just help me get out of here…"
Stephen shook his head, and stood to leave. "No way. I'd just get both of us killed. Let me try to get things set up outside, then I'll work on getting you out of here. You have to have somewhere to go, after all…"
She started to speak, but he interrupted her, "That's my final word for now. You're safe in here. Garibaldi's not going to hurt you." He turned at the door, and said, "I'll see you tomorrow."
Susan went back to her cot, sat down, and slumped against the wall, "I'm not going anywhere. Apparently."
Stephen said good-bye to the guard at the end of the maximum security corridor. There were two guards stationed there, but none outside the cell door. Automated systems kept an eye on the cells, both inside and out. As he walked back to his quarters, he thought about the chaotic events of the last few weeks.
Looking back, he thought that the riot in the Zocalo when Delenn was attacked was the first sign that things were going badly wrong. It had taken almost all of Security's forces to stop the fighting. Afterwards, everyone was on edge, and the air was thick with tension. After the Captain had returned, then left again, Ivanova had held it together for a little while, but the incidents got worse and worse; open looting of a row of stores in Downbelow, muggings in the Zocalo, sabotage, and fighting…fighting broke out all the time. It didn't take much to set people off. It was almost a relief when she'd declared martial law, and Garibaldi could break out the heavy weaponry and impose a curfew.
He'd been so busy in MedLab, he hadn't realized how unhappy Garibaldi had been with the direction Ivanova had taken. After the declaration of martial law, the Security chief had apparently met with other disaffected officers, and trusted members of his own team. He quickly got a critical mass of people standing behind him, or at least willing to stand aside; then he took control of the armory, locked down the StarFury bays, and imprisoned Ivanova. Personally he'd been impressed by how smoothly everything had gone; he'd always known Garibaldi was good at operational procedures, but this was on an entirely different scale, and it had gone off with only a few hitches.
Luckily, the Rangers and Minbari war cruisers Delenn had left behind were too cautious to intervene. Their orders had been to guard the station from attack, not to get involved with station politics. They were unhappy with the way things were, but with all the civilians aboard there wasn't much they could do without making things worse. So they waited, like everybody else, to see what would happen when their leaders returned. If they ever did.
When he got back to his quarters, he wearily opened the door with his identicard. Calling out 'Lights' as he entered, he was surprised when the room remained dark. There was one light visible; an emergency strip over the counter in the kitchen area. Straining his eyes to see, he didn't see anything before a hand was clamped over his mouth, and another pinioned his arm against his body to prevent him accessing his link.
"Hullo, Stephen."
He knew that voice.
"So, if I let you go, will you call Security? Or will you hear me out?"
Stephen tried nodding, although it wasn't exactly a yes-or-no question.
The voice continued, "Oh hell, let's live dangerously, shall we?"
He was released, and he turned quickly to face Marcus, who had his hands out and open.
"No weapons. I just want to talk."
Stephen nodded, "I would guess you would. Come on, sit down. What did you do to the lights?"
"I'm afraid I hit the panel quite hard with a stick. Don't think they'll be working for a while. Knew I should have studied electronics in school."
Marcus took a seat on the couch, leaning forward, and earnestly asked, "What the hell is going on here? Has Mr. Garibaldi gone mad?" His face anxious, he continued, "And how's Susan?"
"She's fine. I just came from her."
"Where is she?" Marcus' voice was grim.
"She's being held in the maximum security cells. She's fine, really. Frustrated, furious, but fine." Stephen said placatingly.
"Good." Marcus said shortly. "Now tell me everything. Who, what, and for God's sake, why?"
Stephen gave a brief outline of Garibaldi's reasoning, his resources, and his allies. He also went into the lines of resistance, and how the Security chief was finding wrenches thrown into his plans by those who didn't agree with his methods, his goals, or both.
"And what about you, Doctor? Where do you stand in all this?" asked Marcus, his voice deceptively calm.
"I'm staying out of it, Marcus. I have people to take care of, patients who rely on me. I have to be able to do my job, no matter who's running the place." His explanation sounded weak, even to him.
"All right. I guess I can see that." Marcus thought for a moment. "I need to see her."
"What about the Captain and Delenn? What are they going to do?" asked Stephen.
"They won't be coming back." At Stephen's look of surprise, he nodded, "Not yet anyway. We can't risk the people here." He continued, "After we heard what happened, Sheridan began contacting our allies in the League, letting them know that they're looking into alternative bases for the fleet. There's still a war to fight, you know." He considered the options, and said, "Let's go talk to Ms. Alexander. I need to get Susan out of jail and off this station, and I have an idea Lyta can help."
Lyta was at the moment occupied with trying to use her small cooker, which was stubbornly refusing to heat. All she wanted was to boil water for tea, was that too much to ask? Her room had been stripped to the bone on the new Kosh's orders, but she'd kept the basic cooking supplies and a small stock of luxuries. Bitterly, she wondered when she'd come to think of a cup of tea as a luxury. Zack was stopping by at the end of his shift to see if he could get the thing to work. She smiled to herself; it seemed unlikely he'd be able to fix it, but it had been sweet of him to offer. He been stopping by quite a bit lately. The poor man was torn in multiple directions at this point; loyal to the man he thought of simply as 'Chief', but also to Commander Ivanova, and Captain Sheridan. She knew he'd been sneaking into the cells to talk to Ivanova, trying to let her know she wasn't forsaken, but the woman wouldn't say much to him. Lyta couldn't blame her really; Ivanova had no way of telling who was truly loyal and who wasn't. She knew Zack had talked to Garibaldi, over and over again, but the man was adamant in his position. Zack had told her he suspected Garibaldi had gotten in too far, too quickly. Even if he wanted to, there was no easy way to back out of the situation.
When the door chimed, she called out 'Open' expecting to see Zack, and hoping they could go get some dinner. It seemed unlikely she'd be able to even heat something up here.
"Lyta?"
She didn't even turn around since she recognized the voice. "Hello, Dr. Franklin. You caught me about to go out and get something to eat…" She heard the door close and snapped off the control, saying, "This thing is never going to work." Turning she saw Stephen, and Marcus Cole, standing in her living area. "Marcus?" she said, then, "What are you doing here? This isn't a good place for you right now, did you know that?"
"How are you, Lyta?" Marcus looked around the spartan room. "Downscaling, are we? That's all right, I was never much of a one for lots of possessions either."
"Stephen? What's he doing here? Have you told him what's happened?" asked Lyta.
"He's come for Ivanova," answered Stephen.
"Oh well, that's all right then," Lyta said incredulously.
"And you're going to help me!" Marcus said winningly, flashing her a brilliant smile.
Lyta just stared. The door chime again, and she jumped at the sound. "I hate to tell you this, but that's probably Zack. I was expecting him."
Marcus was suddenly deadly serious. "Is he all right? Whose side is he on?"
Lyta answered swiftly, "He has doubts, but he's been going along with Garibaldi. He keeps trying to talk him out of the whole thing, but Michael's not budging."
"Instant decision time then. Will he turn me in, or shall I hide in Lyta's closet?" Marcus glanced around the small room, and asked, "You do have a closet?"
Lyta shook her head, "Zack's okay. I think he's okay." Her voice trailed off, and she looked at Stephen doubtfully.
Stephen shook his head, "I don't know the man all that well, but he sure helped out with getting rid of Nightwatch."
"It seems it's my night for taking chances. Open the door then. Let us test the mettle of the man," said Marcus.
Zack reached Lyta's quarters, and hit the door chime to let her know he was there. He had no idea what to do about her kitchen problem; he figured he'd take her out to dinner, and lean on one of his buddies in maintenance to move her up the to-do list. There was no immediate answer, and he wondered if she'd gotten called out to attend to Ambassador Kosh. Damn, he hated when that happened. She always looked so tired and worn out afterwards.
While he waited, Zack slumped against the opposite wall. He was exhausted himself. The argument he'd had with Garibaldi just before he went off duty hadn't helped his mood. It felt increasingly futile. The station was splitting in half over this. About a quarter of the security staff had refused to work with Garibaldi, leading to double and even triple shifts. A few had left the station, a few had reacted violently and were being held in the cells; but most were taking a wait-and-see attitude. They wouldn't work for the Chief, but weren't acting against him either. At least he didn't think they were. There were certainly small acts of sabotage and disruption that could possibly be traced to disaffected security or command personnel. The aliens were leaving in droves, and the human merchants and traders were clamouring for a return to EarthGov rule. He hit the chime again, and this time the door opened. He walked in, and saw Lyta standing in the center of her room with Dr. Franklin.
"Hi, Doc.."
He barely got the words out when he felt something hard poke him in the middle of the back.
"Sit down, Mr. Allan. We need to talk."
There was no mistaking that accent. He crossed the room and sat, shooting Lyta an accusatory look.
She said quickly, "It's not what you think, Zack. Marcus isn't going to hurt anyone."
"Well, I wouldn't exactly say that, Ms. Alexander. It all depends on who gets in my way, and exactly what has happened to Commander Ivanova," said Marcus.
"I told you she was all right…"
"She's fine! I just saw her yesterday…"
Zack and Stephen spoke at once. Marcus just looked at them, and they stopped talking. He had a way of looking at people that was frightening in its intensity, with a hint of instability thrown in. You never quite knew how Marcus might react to a threat or challenge to something or someone he cared for.
"Are you up for a little jailbreak, Mr. Allan?" Marcus asked, seemingly calm.
Zack looked at the solemn faces around him, and burst out, "Yeah. Yeah I am. Ivanova doesn't deserve this; she was doing a good job. The Captain left her in charge. The Chief is wrong; I hate to say it, but he is."
Lyta spoke up hesitantly, "You said you have a plan, Marcus?"
"I do," he said softly. "And all of you can help. First, I need a ship…"
Susan heard the noises outside her cell door and wearily leaned back against the wall. It was probably Zack again, coming to cheer her up, or Stephen, to give her false assurances that everything would work out. Neither of them were willing to do anything, of course, just talk, talk, talk. She'd come up with plan after plan, but they had all foundered on the fact that she couldn't get out of this cell. She knew that they'd set up Security a little too tightly; there should have been a secret tunnel or escape hatch or something. It was a flaw, and if she ever got out of here, she'd see that all the prisoners who were unjustly imprisoned were put in cells with trapdoors.
The door flew open, but instead of the normal guards or one of her two allowed visitors, it was Marcus. Without stopping to think, she flew into his arms and hugged him fiercely. He almost dropped the pike he was holding in surprise. Instead his arms closed around her with a mixed sense of relief and protectiveness.
"Susan?" he said, not wanting to say too much for fear she'd come to her senses. "Are you all right?"
For one brief instant, he thought he heard a sob. Then she looked up into his face, her eyes suspiciously bright and her lashes damp. He'd almost forgotten how beautiful she was.
"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded, as she stepped back out of his embrace.
He smiled and said, "I got here as soon as I could. Want to go for a walk?"
"Love to." She furiously dashed away a few remaining tears. "Got any particular destination in mind?"
"A stroll along a beach by moonlight would be nice, but I rather think we'd best head straight for maintenance bay 2B. I've got a Thunderbolt standing by; it was in being repaired, and Zack's arranged for the security detail to disappear for a little while this evening. Care to take her for a spin?"
Susan was already on her way out the door. She paused when she noticed two guards, slumped on the floor at the far end of the corridor.
"They're just sleeping. Stephen gave one an injection, and I put the other one out."
Susan whipped her head around to see Lyta Alexander standing in the shadows.
The telepath gestured to them to be quiet, and said, "Stephen thought he heard someone coming. He'll delay them as long as he can. You've apparently contracted a contagious disease, Commander. We'd better get going before they think to check the security cameras."
The three of them raced down the hallway in the opposite direction from Stephen. They heard him declaiming, "No, you'd better not. It's terrible the way she's swollen up. I've sent for a stretcher team to transport her to MedLab. If we don't relieve the pressure…"
"What?" Susan muttered, "Will I explode?"
"Well, that would be in character, wouldn't it?" Marcus said, prepared to duck. He was not expecting her brilliant answering smile, and wondered if the loopy grin on his face would ever subside. He was so very glad to see her, and to see that she was alive and full of defiance. "Let's get to the ship."
Marcus knew the backways of the station very well and led them straight to the bay where the Thunderbolt awaited them. Zack was waiting, and told them they had about ten more minutes before the security people he'd relieved to go for a break returned. He blushed as Susan thanked him.
"What are you going to do now, Zack? Garibaldi will know you were in on this," asked Susan.
"I'm going to a place in Downbelow where a guy can disappear if he wants. Doc Franklin and I figure we can set up a resistance of some kind; prepare for when this situation goes to hell as it surely will. I just wish I'd had more time to talk to the Chief. I know he's regretting this; I know it."
"Maybe. But now it's out of his hands," replied Susan grimly. "I won't be far away. I'll find a way to keep in touch."
Marcus looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean? You're coming with us! We'll meet up with one of the White Stars protecting the station, and hitch a ride back to the fleet."
"No," said Susan briefly. "John left this station under my command, and it's my responsibility. I can't abandon it."
"But it's not safe for you here! Why would I bother to free you just to let you get captured again? You can't be serious!"
She took Marcus by the arm and pulled him away from the others. "Let Lyta and Zack say good-bye in peace." She kept one hand on his arm, and said definitively, "I can't abandon the station, Marcus. I've had a lot of time to think about this. I'm going down to Epsilon Three. Draal can fend off Garibaldi, and I can concentrate on re-taking the station. It'll work even better with Zack and Stephen on the inside. I don't think Garibaldi will retaliate against Stephen; he needs him too much. You work on the big picture with the Captain and Delenn. I'll be back running things here long before you return." She looked over to where Lyta and Zack were saying an awkward good-bye. "I can understand why Lyta has to leave; we can't risk Kosh finding out what we're up to. But Zack's taking it hard."
He's not the only one, thought Marcus, a lump rising in his throat. "You're sure?"
"I am," she said, then added hesitantly, "You…are coming back?"
"Yes, I'm coming back." For you, he added to himself. He took a chance, and laid his palm gently against her cheek, his long fingers brushing at strands of her hair that had tugged loose. "I'll miss you."
She was standing so close that a half step forward would put her in his arms again. He could feel her pulse under his hand, quick and light. She looked up at him with lips parted; her expression was half wary, half expectant. He waited a heartbeat too long before pulling her close. Zack interrupted them with a shout.
"The guards are coming back! You guys get out of here now!" He pushed Lyta towards the open door of the ship.
Marcus grabbed Susan by the hand and ran into the ship, with Lyta close behind them. Zack had already disappeared. It was only seconds before they were in the pilot and co-pilot's seat. There had been a moment of jockeying, before Marcus said gallantly, "Commander's prerogative," and relinquished the pilot's chair. Lyta strapped herself into one of the two seats in back, and wondered what in the world she was doing there. Susan entered the access codes to open the bay doors, fired up the ship, and flew it out into space. She entered her command code into the call signal emanating from the Thunderbolt, so that her StarFury pilots would know she was aboard, and hopefully, not fire on her, even if ordered to. Opening a channel to Draal's frequency, she hailed the planet, and received permission to land. She smiled in quiet satisfaction; she was finally on her way to getting her station back.
G'Kar paced the conference room on Narn impatiently. It had been a difficult task to make it ready for such important visitors. The destruction on his planet had ranged from the catastrophic bombings of cities to the trivial petty destruction of public buildings and offices. They'd been hard-pressed to even locate enough matching chairs to surround the heavy ironwood table.
Still, it was ready. Wine was available, and water for the Minbari. He's spent the morning arguing with the Council of Elders about the composition of the new Kha'Ri. The younger hotheaded leaders who had led the resistance against the Centauri were demanding more than their share of representation in the Narn Parliament. They were determined on a course of revenge, and he wanted no part of it. At least they had confirmed his reappointment as ambassador to the Babylon 5 station. He had heard disturbing rumours from his old home, and he was anxious to return and determine for himself what was going on.
Finally, he heard noises in the corridor, and going to the heavy studded double doors, he threw them open in welcome. Sheridan and Delenn were walking towards him, arm in arm, followed by Lennier and a tall unfamiliar alien. Behind these came a Minbari and a human Ranger, and a cohort of Narn guards. He hurried out and took Sheridan's outstretched hand between his own, shaking it heartily, "My friend, I am so glad to see you. What is it one of your writers said? 'Rumours of your death appear to have been greatly exaggerated'? I was never happier to see such rumours dispelled!" He turned to Delenn, and greeted her with arms crossed on his chest and head bowed in respect, "You are looking lovelier than ever, Delenn."
She bowed slightly, then asked in some distress, "But what has happened to you? Are you injured?"
He pointed to the bandage covering his missing eye, "I had a little trouble on Centauri Prime." He bowed his head to Lennier, and then said to the him and the others, "You are all most welcome." He gestured towards the open door, "Come in and be seated. We have much to discuss."
After introductions and the initial briefing by John, G'Kar filled them in on the events on Centauri Prime and on Narn. He found himself contemplating the alien Lorien, who had been named, but not explained. "And you, sir? Are you an ally in this business, or merely an interested party? What is your role?"
"I…observe. Consult, perhaps a little. I have some knowledge of your so-called enemies," answered Lorien calmly.
"Ah," said G'Kar, awaiting further illumination. When none was forthcoming, he went on, "You may of course gather the fleet and other League ships here. You must be aware, however, that Narn is in no condition to support troops, or to provide supplies or manpower for ship repair or maintenance. We have much work to do here. The sooner you can relocate to Babylon 5 the better."
"Hopefully Marcus will learn more of the situation there. The more information we have on Garibaldi's plans, the sooner we can remedy that unfortunate situation," Delenn said sharply. "He is supposed to meet us here, and bring Ivanova if he is able."
"I will be returning to the station shortly. I am most distressed to hear this news about Mr. Garibaldi. I will speak with him as soon as I get back. There must be some reason behind this…defection," said G'Kar.
John grunted, "I can't think of any. What I would like to know is why there has been this lull in attacks? Both the Shadows and the Vorlons are holding back…what's stopping them continuing to fight their proxy war?"
Lorien stroked his chin, and said, "I think they may be looking for me…and for you perhaps. We are both important to them at this juncture."
Silence fell over the table at that suggestion. No one could think of anything to add.
Delenn spoke again, "I have been considering our logistical situation, and I believe we must consider alternatives to Narn, and to Babylon 5 if it remains outside our control. There is a Minbari colony world on the edge of Narn space that would suit our needs. I would need to speak with the Grey Council to get approval for our entry into Minbari space."
Lennier spoke up, "I do not believe they would be amenable to this request, Delenn. They have shown no interest in fighting this war. That is why the Council was broken in the first place, as you well recall."
She nodded, but said, "That was then. The Shadows have attacked several of our outlying colonies, and the Warriors have fought them. They have stayed out of the larger war, but perhaps they now understand the true nature of the conflict. I would also like them to know of the Vorlons' involvement in the struggle, and their use of planet-killers. This is the central battle of our age against the darkness. It grieves me to see our people remaining on the outside in this."
The captain of the Minbari war cruiser who had accompanied them spoke then, "Are you sure you would be safe, returning to Minbar?"
"Of course. The remnants of the Council may not like it, and they are free to disagree with me, of course, but they would do me no harm," answered Delenn.
Lennier exchanged glances with the human Ranger. She said, "Entil'zha, they have tried to harm you in the past, or at least they sent a representative to do so."
John said uneasily, "There was that incident on the station, during your installation as Entil'zha…"
Lennier nodded, "Even if we believe that Neroon acted on his own; I do not think we can assume the new Council follows the dictates of Valen."
"It is my decision. I will take one of the Minbari war cruisers, and an escort of White Stars if it makes you feel better." Her voice was growing icy, and the others at the table hastily agreed that would be adequate. John was still looking at her, but she stared back with no signs of backing down.
G'Kar stood, and said, directing his words to Sheridan and Delenn, "I will have you escorted back to your ships if you like, but I would enjoy your company at dinner tonight. We still have the rudiments here; it will not be a formal affair of state, but simply old friends enjoying each other's company."
John smiled and accepted for himself, looking at Delenn, who nodded her agreement.
As they left, John lingered behind to catch Delenn. He waved Lorien on ahead, but the alien stayed in earshot.
"Are you sure this is a good idea? Your leaving right now?" he asked.
"The colony would be a good place for us. It is sparsely populated, but has a functional spaceport and maintenance facility. We cannot impinge on Narn hospitality; they have enough worries. And if you and Lorien are a target, we would endanger these people. I have enough Narn blood on my hands as it is." Her voice was strained. She had watched the approach to the devastated planet from the White Star's bridge immersed in sadness and guilt. Narn had been an early sacrifice in the Great War; one that she and Kosh had reluctantly made.
John nodded unhappily. "You have a point." He took her arm and said, "I just wish you didn't have to go."
"John," she said hesitantly. "Can you tell me why Lorien stays so close to you? He has barely been out of your sight since that first night after you returned. What is his connection to you? I know he saved you after your…fall." She swallowed hard, it was still difficult for her to discuss this. "But why so close? He is always watching you, as if he is waiting for something to happen."
"No reason," John said shortly. "He's just curious about the younger races, I think. He's been isolated for a long time."
She looked at him, a sense of distrust dawning in her. "You're sure that's all it is?"
"Yes," John snapped. "Don't you believe me?"
"I would never suggest you were dishonest," she said in distress. "I hope you do not think that." She went on, carefully picking her words, "I thought perhaps you were omitting something, that is all."
"Well, I'm not. Now, can we get back to the first topic? When do you have to leave?"
"Tomorrow morning, I think. There is no time to waste. It will take a week to go and return, and we have no idea how long this lull in the fighting will last."
"I'll miss you," he smiled at her a little sadly, wondering if he was doing the right thing in concealing his limited lifespan from her. It was sad comfort to think that he might never have to tell her; that either or both of them might not survive the war. At this point though, he literally couldn't stand to cause her more pain than he'd already put her through. Besides, she had enough to worry about.
"You can show me tonight how much you'll miss me."
Her voice had that lilt in it that he loved. "First, let's brief the other captains, and then we have dinner with G'Kar. There'll be plenty of time after that for me to show you… everything you need to know."
"I'll look forward to the demonstration. I'm sure it will be both educational and illuminating."
Lorien was staring at them in fascination. "Excuse me," he said. "Am I correct in assuming that indirectness is an integral part of your mating rituals?"
John burst into laughter at the question, and even Delenn had to smile. Neither answered him though.
"Zathras!"
The shout echoed through the cavernous corridors. A hunched over alien with a fox-like face came scurrying out of a side tunnel and ran towards the voice. "Coming! Zathras is coming!"
"There you are!" The glowing form of a stout elderly Minbari male appeared in front of Zathras. "We have company coming…we'll need some rooms prepared, within the complex, suitable for human occupation. And I'll need to speak to those people on the station. Is the holo-communication system operational?"
"Yes, Draal. Zathras fixed three weeks ago. Ready to be used."
"Good. I'll speak with our guests first. Then I'll explain some matters to this Mr. Garibaldi person." He walked off a short distance, then disappeared.
"Make room ready. Make holo-device ready. No, that already done. What are humans' needs? Food, water, sanitation. So little time, so much to do." Zathras hurried off, still talking to himself.
After the Thunderbolt had landed, Marcus, Susan and Lyta made their way to the heart of the Great Machine to greet Draal. He already knew most of their story from monitoring communications to and from the station, and was most upset. He had given his support to Sheridan, and pledged to help protect the station. He had accepted refugees, and let them set up a temporary medical facility on the planet surface. Commander Ivanova he knew and respected, and she was an acceptable surrogate. This Mr. Garibaldi, however…him he did not know, and the man's actions so far were not promising.
"Commander!" Draal beamed as he greeted Ivanova. "And who is this with you?"
"This is Marcus Cole, and Lyta Alexander. They both helped get me off the station. Can I stay here, Draal? I don't want to cause you any trouble, but I need to stay close by and work on getting control of the station back."
"Of course you may. No one will bother you here, and you can communicate freely with anyone you like up there. Will you all be staying?" Draal asked.
"No," answered Marcus shortly. "I have to get back to the fleet."
"You must convey my greetings to Delenn, Ranger. It has been too long since we have talked. What of you, Ms. Alexander?" queried Draal.
"I…I don't know," Lyta confessed. "I had to leave, but I have nowhere to go."
"We can always use more telepaths on the ships, Lyta. You're welcome to come with me," said Marcus.
"All right. I'd like to help," Lyta said gratefully.
"That's settled then. Zathras will take you to your quarters, Commander. I will speak with this Garibaldi person now, and explain matters to him. There will have to be new arrangements. I'll ensure your safe passage, Ranger, but you had best leave soon. Say your good-byes." He looked at Susan, and said, "I will join you in a short while,' then disappeared.
"I can't stand it when he does that," Lyta murmured. "It's like the Chesire Cat, nothing left but his smile. I'll head on back to the ship now. Good-bye, Commander, and best of luck."
"You, too, Lyta, and thank you," answered Susan.
Marcus watched the slim redhead walk back towards the docking bay, and remarked casually, "Nice of her to leave us alone."
"Tit for tat. We did the same for her and Zack," said Susan.
Marcus raised one eyebrow questioningly, "Are we like Lyta and Zack? They seem a bit more than friendly to me."
Susan exhaled forcefully, "Don't push it. I wanted to thank you for coming, and getting me out of there."
"Anytime," Marcus answered jauntily. "At your service-one Ranger, available for rescue, transport, anything. Anything at all. Anything you want." His voice tapered off wistfully.
She started to say something, but instead turned to leave. His face fell; he'd hoped to score some points with his recent actions, but it seemed nothing he did could break through her wall of reserve.
"Aw hell," she said. Turning back, she grabbed him by the shoulders, and thoroughly and passionately kissed him.
His arms tightened around her, and he wished fervently that he didn't have to go. The kiss deepened, her hands ran through his hair, and he was just deciding that the war would carry on just fine without him when she broke away.
She said nothing, just looked at him, eyes wide, her expression an unspoken tangle of deep emotion. His head was still spinning as she walked off.
She called back over her shoulder, "You come back. That's an order."
Delenn had left early that morning, on board White Star 11. Her last night with John had been subdued. She was still feeling unsettled by the First One's scrutiny, and had to fight back the strong feeling that John was hiding something from her. Having practically accused him of concealment, which he had denied, she was still perilously close to suspecting he was not speaking the truth. It was very upsetting, and she was almost glad they were to spend this short time apart. Almost, but she couldn't find it in her heart to truly be happy in their separation.
She was waiting for Lennier in her quarters, but he was uncharacteristically late. In her agitation, she decided to walk towards the bridge and perhaps meet him halfway. She was almost there, when she felt the world slip sideways. Clutching at the wall, she tried to regain her balance by concentrating, but it didn't seem to stop the spinning. She closed her eyes, and the feeling lessened. Straightening, she walked slowly ahead, only to have her knees buckle under her.
Lennier was hurrying down the corridor when he caught sight of Delenn staggering against the wall. He ran towards her and got one arm around her before she fell. Her weight sagged against him for a moment, then she regained her balance and stood up straight.
"I just felt dizzy, Lennier. It has passed."
"We should go to the medical facilities. Just to check."
"I am fine."
"Then I will call them myself, and have them examine you on the bridge."
She smiled, realizing he would not back down, and said, "Your concern is appreciated. We will go, but I am sure it is nothing."
Lennier waited in an outer room while the Minbari healer examined Delenn. A human physician was called in to consult. Lennier supposed that was due to her unique physiology.
She came out after a short while, her face carefully neutral, and turned to face the two physicians. "I ask that you honor my request to tell no one of this incident. You have determined I am not ill, or injured, and that is all that is necessary." She smiled reassuringly at Lennier, "They say I am fine. We will speak no more of this. Come, we have work to attend to."
He bowed, and followed her out, not comprehending, but content that she would not say she was well if she was not.
The human physician looked at the Minbari and said, "Will she be all right? I've never dealt with anything like this before."
"She has asked us not to speak; and the code of privacy prevents us in any case." The Minbari healer continued sorrowfully, "If this became known on Minbar, her very life might be in danger. Entil'zha med melira'fel, and the storm of war is upon us. She has to consider many conflicting priorities. I do not envy her."
The human stared after Delenn. "Me either. It's a hell of a time to be pregnant."
