"Delenn, we need to call security. He could already be on the station for all we know. Your life could be in danger at this very moment." Marcus hoped fervently that the lesson Delenn had apparently learned the last time her life had been threatened was continuing to stick. Someone needed to know. And that someone was probably security.
To his relief, Delenn did not argue with him. "Yes. Use my computer console to send a message to Mister Allan while I call Vashaer. He needs to know about this."
Marcus jumped to carry out his orders. As he was transcribing a description of who the Chief of Security needed to be on the lookout for, Delenn ordered her BabCom unit to connect with the Shai Alyt. The extensively blue-marked Minbari's face appeared on the screen within a second – it was as though he had been sitting by the console awaiting the call.
"Delenn! Thank Valen you called me. I…"
Delenn had no time for even the briefest of pleasantries. "Shakiri is the bomber. He destroyed the Temple of Varenni." Her tone was restrained, but Marcus could see in her smoldering gray eyes a barely contained a simmer of determination and anger.
Vashaer looked taken aback. "Yes, that is what I wanted to speak with you about. How did you know?"
"He threatened me for the second time in a message. It was anonymous, but its contents provided the evidence I needed. The message read, 'Now you will know how it feels to have your empire crumble around you.'
Vashaer looked even more tired to Marcus than he had during the last call. But this time, his exhaustion was mingled with disgust and worry, the latter of which he was clearly attempting but failing to conceal. "It is no surprise that he considers the new government a mistake. And it is equally unsurprising that he is targeting you specifically. You humiliated him at the Starfire Wheel."
"He humiliated himself," returned Delenn sharply. "The Starfire Wheel proved that he does not have a heart worthy to lead. Surely you must see that, Vashaer."
"I do. And I do not question what the Wheel has shown us. All Warriors strive for death with honor. We die for our people – for all Minbari. But the Shai Alyt lives and dies to serve their people – the Warrior Caste. Shakiri was given this opportunity, and he did not accept it."
"I do not doubt that cowardice such as that is not looked very highly upon within the Warrior Caste," postulated Delenn. "Especially not from your leader."
Vashaer emitted and long and very tired sigh, his shoulders drooping as he exhaled and then neglecting to perk back up again. "The incident at the Starfire Wheel resulted in our entire caste turning their backs on Shakiri. He went from a respected leader to an outcast in the matter of a single day. I know that is not an excuse for what he did, and I am not trying to defend his actions. He does not deserve to be Shai Alyt." Marcus detected a momentary flash of bitterness from the otherwise primarily stoic Minbari before the same weariness replaced it, this time with a hint of sadness. "But Delenn, since you have been caught up in all of this, I feel obligated to tell you something about Shakiri you do not know. I am afraid I did not learn of it until a mere few hours before you engaged the Starfire Wheel."
Delenn furrowed her brow but did not speak, allowing Vashaer to continue.
"Shakiri…he is not well, Delenn. Something in his mind is damaged. I believe it to have been a result of this war. He was so infuriated by the Religious Caste challenging the Warrior Caste, and he was obsessive about putting them in their place and showing them that military leadership was what Minbar needed. He kept saying…" he broke off for a moment and shook his head in disgust. "He kept saying that if they did not go back to the temples where they belonged, he would make them regret they ever left them."
Marcus watched Delenn's hands curl into white-knuckled fists at her sides, out of Vashaer's view.
"So he destroyed one of our people's oldest and most significant temples?" Her voice trembled nearly unperceptively. Marcus wondered if Vashaer was able to pick up on it. "I cannot say that makes sense to me."
"It does not make sense to me, either. But Delenn, that is just the thing – to him, it does make sense. Just before the Religious Caste was scheduled to surrender, Neroon came to me. I do not think I had ever seen him look shaken before. He told me he believed Shakiri had truly lost his mind, that he had abandoned the true purpose of the Warrior Caste – to fight and die so that others may live. He planned to slaughter your caste until you surrendered, Delenn. There was to be no preservation of life, not until he got what he wanted."
"Power," murmured Delenn. She was a shade paler that normal.
"Yes," affirmed Vashaer. "To his credit, I think he truly believed it would be better for all Minbari if the Warrior Caste had absolute control – that we could more effectively protect our people if we did not have to equally respect the wishes of the other castes. But the price he was willing to pay…it was far too high to maintain the illusion that he was sane. And everything that has happened since then – his humiliation at the Starfire Wheel, what he perceived as betrayal by Neroon, the formation of the new Gray Council with emphasis on the Worker Caste rather than the Warrior Caste, and particularly the widespread ridicule he has experienced from the public of all castes – has undoubtedly only served to make things all the worse." Vashaer lowered his eyes, his voice quieting. "I know he has done terrible things, and all of this must make him seem to you like he is pure evil, but I can assure you that he was not always this way. In his heart, Shakiri is devoted to our caste and to all Minbari, just as you are. He has been a mentor to me for many years. I've learned from him and respected him, and to see him become this…this hollowed fragment of what he was, of the Shakiri I know…it has not been easy."
They were both quiet for a moment, Vashaer looking grieved, and Delenn, deep in thought. After a time, she spoke, her voice low and quiet.
"I might not be able to relate to precisely what you are going through, Vashaer, but I do know what it is like to lose a mentor. To have more responsibility than you feel ready for thrust upon your shoulders with no prior notice while you are reeling with loss is one of the worst feelings I have known. I am sorry you are having to endure this during what is already a difficult time." She straightened up and squared her shoulders a bit then, her voice increasing slightly in volume and firmness. "But unfortunately it does not mitigate anything that has happened."
Vashaer gave a heavy sigh. "You are correct, of course. Shakiri is the most skilled of all the Warrior Caste, and in his current state he is extremely dangerous."
"And he is coming here," murmured Delenn, more to herself than to the Minbari on the screen. She then paused abruptly, going still, her body rigid. "Vashaer, you said the reason you wanted to talk to me was because you had discovered that Shakiri was the bomber. How did you know?"
Vashaer pressed his lips into a thin line. "Because he sent me a message, as well. Like yours, mine was an anonymous text only message, but it held very telling clues that convinced me of his identity beyond a shadow of a doubt."
"What did it say?"
Vashaer hesitated, looking to Marcus and appearing as though he might protest, but then he pressed a button on the screen on his desk and read from it. "You are not worthy to hold the title of Shai Alyt. A Shai Alyt pursues the life of a Warrior above all else, values the values of a Warrior without stipulation. A Shai Alyt does not cater to the whims of the Religious fanatics or naïve Workers – he understands that the way of the Warrior is superior to their ideologies. My work at the Temple of Fools was just the beginning – soon, all will see that Minbar truly belongs to the Warriors. And the people's beloved Delenn will be the one to show them."
Marcus felt himself tense, even though he was not hearing anything he had not already expected. But the reinforcement of it yet again was disturbing at best. He could not help but feel for Vashaer, being dealt these hurtful words by the mentor he had so recently loved and respected.
"So he wants to make an example of me," said Delenn thoughtfully. "It would make sense – I am the one who humiliated him and instituted the new Gray Council, which completely refutes his favored power structure."
Vashaer shook his head. "But that is where it gets confusing. There is a final part to the message which leads me to believe that you might not be his target. Or at least, not at first."
"What?" Delenn all but whispered. "Of what do you speak?"
Vashaer looked down and read aloud once more.
"She thinks what she has done is what is best for our people. But she is wrong, and she will pay for defaming me. But death is too quick a punishment. As a result of what she has done, I have lost everyone who was once dear to me, either to death or to their abandonment of me as a result of her slander. Now, she will know the same agony.
Marcus's insides felt as though they had frozen solid. "It sounds like he's planning to go after someone close to you," he said quietly.
"I agree with the human," said Vashaer. "But surely that human captain of yours, leader of the rebellion against his own government, has enough protection surrounding him on that space station that Shakiri would not be so stupid as to go after him, even in his compromised mental state."
Delenn stood still, as though her feet had been nailed to the floor and her body was made of wood. Her gray eyes went wide with horror. When she spoke, her whisper was so quiet that Marcus could barely decipher what she was saying.
"Lennier." Delenn, suddenly capable of movement, turned to face Marcus. She was shaking. "Oh Marcus, he's completely defenseless. He's too weak to fight, and there's no one there who can protect him."
Marcus felt the same alarm Delenn was expressing shoot through his every nerve.
"Let's go."
Marcus Cole did not think he had ever run so fast in all his life. He overtook Delenn on his long legs, though when he saw her in the posterior part of his peripheral vision, he was a touch impressed at how the petite Delenn managed to nearly keep up with him, especially in a dress and shoes that did not exactly appear as though they were made for intense exercise. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he also donned such attire, he would be far behind her at this moment.
Or at least, he would have thought all of these things had he had the time. But he had to channel every single bit of his concentration into achieving as much speed as he could. Every time he reached the limits of what his body told him it could take, he pushed all the harder. The burning in his legs, in his lungs – none of it mattered. Lennier was in trouble. They had no proof that Shakiri was even on the station yet, but somehow Marcus just knew. And when he glanced over at Delenn and saw the fear in her eyes, he knew that she had the same ominous feeling.
The automatic Medlab door swung open with milliseconds to spare – any slower and they would have crashed into it. They were running so quickly that Marcus doubted they would have had the time to stop. But he did not give it a second thought as he dodged carts and medical implements and rounded the corner that put him in the hallway of the general ward.
He did not see anyone. Not a single person. No nurses milling around. No doctors heading to rooms to check on their patients. No one.
Not until he reached Lennier's room.
Marcus stopped dead at the threshold, feeling bile rise into and scald his throat. Delenn pulled up short behind him, and he heard her sharp intake of breath, hitching with both the exertion of the run and terrible dread.
They had been right.
The nurse who had been looking after Lennier in Delenn and Marcus's absence had apparently fled the room. The Minbari who Marcus recognized from the recording of the events at the Temple of Varenni and the Starfire Wheel as Shakiri was standing over the bed, eye fixed on its occupant. However, when he heard Marcus and Delenn arrive, he looked up, and a malicious smile seeped slowly across his features. As Marcus moved gradually into the room, Delenn following and then overtaking him, he saw the glint of polished metal in the former Shai Alyt's hand. Shakiri was holding a knife.
Lennier was, as he had been before, a ball of trembling blankets and far too pale skin. He was, Marcus thought, shaking harder now. When Delenn entered, he raised his eyes and locked them with hers. In them, Marcus did not see fear, and he was not surprised by this. Instead, there was a pleading, plaintive and desperate. If it comes down to your life or mine, Delenn, you must let me go. Please.
"Ah, Delenn." Shakiri's tone was like sweet wine that had been left out to spoil – falsely honeyed and menacing. "I was wondering if you would make it in time."
He did not elaborate one what they were in time for, but Marcus could guess. He suppressed a shudder.
"Shakiri." Delenn was fighting to keep her voice steady and calm. "Your quarrel is with me, and me alone. Please, do not hurt Lennier. He has done you no harm." Lennier's expression begged her not to encourage harm to herself.
"He is your Religious Caste pet," spat Shakiri. "He does your bidding, obeys your every word. That alone is enough to condemn him. But Neroon also told me how much your little aide means to you, how much you rely on him, and how worried you were when he nearly died to save you from your cowardly fellow Religious Caste. Such a brave little soul…a pity, almost, that he was not born Warrior Caste. A waste, really. But I do look forward to seeing the agony on your face as you watch him bleed out before your eyes. Do not look so aggrieved – your separation will not last long. You will follow him a short time afterward, be assured."
Lennier spoke for the first time, then. Despite the adrenaline rush Marcus had no doubt he was experiencing, he was so weak he could barely project his voice loud enough to be heard. "If you are going to kill me, Shakiri, then please just do so. If whatever pain or madness is driving you requires that you take a life, then let it be mine. Do not harm Delenn." He was surprisingly calm and lucid for someone who's life was in immediate danger, and with such a high fever – Marcus suspected that it must be taking every ounce of strength he had to maintain his façade of functionality.
"How touching," sneered Shakiri. "Both willing to die for the other. I would not be so eager to give up my life if I were you, little monk. She dies either way."
"No," whispered Lennier, his voice cracking. "Please…"
Marcus could take no more of this. He reached inside his cloak, but Shakiri's honed Warrior Caste reflexes were faster than even he could have anticipated. He laid the blade of the knife against Lennier's throat. The younger Minbari froze, his gaze never separating from Delenn's.
"If I but see that Denn'bok, human, your friend's life ends now." Shakiri's tone went cold. "If Delenn thinks she can humiliate me and turn everyone who ever meant anything to me against me, then she must suffer the consequences! I am Shai Alyt, and I will not be made to endure this!"
"But you are Shai Alyt no longer, and you are enduring it," Marcus corrected, keeping his hand inside his cloak. Shakiri growled, and Delenn's fingernails dug into her own palms, but Marcus persisted. "It is you who are the coward, threatening someone who is ill enough to be bedridden! If you truly believe you are still worthy of the title Shai Alyt, then prove it."
Delenn and Lennier finally stopped looking at each other as both turned to regard Marcus with wide eyes. They both knew where this was going. Lennier paled even more while Delenn whispered, "Marcus, no!"
I am sorry, my friends. Remember me fondly and know that I did this because I love you.
Marcus squared his shoulders and looked Shakiri straight in the eyes.
"I invoke Denn'sha. Fight me, Shakiri. To the death."
The last time he had uttered those words, the reaction they had received had been very different. Neroon had also had terrible plans, but he had been motivated by righteous anger, not insanity. He had not wanted anyone to get hurt who had not needed to, and Marcus's challenge had brought what had been an almost startling regret to his face. But despite the anticipated differences, Shakiri's reaction still shocked Marcus. The Minbari threw back his head and roared with laughter.
"Foolish, foolish human! You think that I, Shakiri 'ra Kort, Shai Alyt of the Warrior Caste, would stoop so low as to entertain your delusions of grandeur? You might have survived Denn'sha with Neroon, who was weak enough to spare your life, but I will not stoop to his level. To participate in Denn'sha is an honor. You are no Minbari, inferior Earther. You do not deserve this honor."
"If you will not accept my challenge, then it is you who has no honor! What they say about you is true – you are a coward!"
That final blow to Shakiri's pride achieved the effect Marcus had intended. The fallen Shai Alyt launched himself, knife bared, at the Ranger at the same moment Marcus withdrew his Denn'bok. The fighting pike blocked the thrust of the blade. Shakiri came about for another pass, and Marcus managed to hold him off again. Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus saw Delenn rush over to Lennier's bed protect her invalid friend from the battle and the wrath of Shakiri. It was not until several successfully parried attacks later that what Marcus had known the entire time to be inevitable finally happened. Shakiri performed a maneuver Marcus had never seen before, and suddenly Marcus was the one with the knife at his throat, his body pinned against the wall.
Damn. He had been hoping it would have taken longer than this. Neroon had been a startlingly good fighter, but Marcus had to admit that Shakiri was all the better. He had hoped to give someone – a doctor or nurse, probably – time to notice that something was amiss and call security. But the fight had been embarrassingly short, and now he was likely to take Lennier's place as the first casualty of Shakiri's madness. Although, to be fair, he had invited this one.
"Humans," the disillusioned Minbari sneered. "We should have wiped you out when we had the chance."
"Shakiri, stop." Delenn had progressed from asking to ordering now, but to no avail. Shakiri pressed the knife into Marcus's neck, the sharp blade drawing the thinnest stream of red blood. But then something happened that Marcus had not expected, in the form of Lennier crying out in pain, louder and more expressive than Marcus had ever seen his modest friend about any kind of discomfort.
"Oh! Oh, my stomach…"
Shakiri, his every muscle spring-loaded with tension, jumped at the sudden noise. It was a distraction enough to cause him to take the knife away from Marcus's throat for a moment, giving Marcus an opportunity to recover enough to dive into a corner, leading his opponent as far away from Lennier and Delenn as possible.
"Lennier!" Delenn was trying to suppress becoming frantic. "What is it?"
"H…hurts," whimpered Lennier. "It hurts so much…" He cried out again, this time thrashing around in pain, turning his body and writhing so much that he struck the medical equipment cart next to the bed before curling up in pain, trembling.
"Oh, Lennier…" Delenn seemed to have almost forgotten of the presence of someone who was actively trying to murder them all, so focused was she on her friend. "Just hold on, my dear, it will be all right…"
"Really, Delenn, are you certain you do not want me to just put him out of his misery? I do believe I'd be doing all of us a service." Shakiri sounded mildly disgusted.
In the same moment that Delenn whirled to face Shakiri, her whole body shaking with rage and her eyes burning with a gray fire intense enough to boil the entire space station, something occurred to Marcus. The past couple of days, Lennier had been so weak that he had not even been able to sit up on his own – Marcus and Delenn had needed to physically hold him upright so he would not choke on his own vomit. For him to turn his body over with such force as he just had must have cost him dearly. Even if his pain had suddenly worsened, it wasn't like Lennier to waste his strength in a time of crisis. Unless…
Oh, that's clever. Oh Lennier, you poor chap; you might have just saved our lives. You've done what you can – now I need to continue my distraction.
Shakiri had started toward Delenn and Lennier again. He was but two feet away when Marcus leapt at him from behind. Though Marcus was smaller than the Minbari, his weight combined with the force with which he jumped were enough to pull Shakiri backward. They both fell, with Marcus letting go and rolling away just in time to avoid being impaled on Shakiri's sharply pointed headbone. The Warrior struck the ground directly with his back. He lay there for several seconds, gasping, the breath knocked out of him. Those few moments of compromise gave Marcus enough time to scramble to his feet, Denn'bok in hand, and snatch Shakiri's knife from where it had clattered to the floor at his side. By the time Shakiri could breathe again, Marcus had the blood-lined blade pressed against his Adam's Apple.
"Now what do you think of lowly little humans, eh?"
"That their security teams can take it from here." Whatever Shakiri might have responded with was interrupted by the arrival of Zack Allan and several of his deputies. All of them had fully charged PPGs trained on Shakiri. Stephen Franklin stood behind them, his expression grave as he watched the unfolding scene.
"Sir, if you'd like to come with us?" Zack Allan's tone implied that this was not actually a question.
Shakiri growled and struggled as half a dozen security officers wrestled him into handcuffs, but the job got done. Marcus went to sit on the edge of the flattened part of Lennier's bed. His legs felt as though they could not quite keep him upright – the adrenaline of battle was wearing off. Delenn was holding Lennier's hand and stroking his knuckles, caught between providing ministrations to her friend and observing the ongoing arrest of Shakiri, who was now having his rights read to him by a rather smug Zack Allan. Lennier wearily looked at Marcus as he sat down. He was still shaking quite hard, and Marcus began to wonder if maybe his whole performance had not been entirely an act, after all.
"That was clever," he told Lennier. "Pretending to accidentally hit the cart but actually making sure you pressed the 'doctor call' button on the way down. From the hallway, Stephen saw the trouble and called security. You saved us all – well done."
One side of Lennier's mouth twitched upward, but Marcus could tell that he was in no condition to bask in compliments.
"Oh Lennier, that was so well done! I am so proud of your very quick and level-headed thinking," praised Delenn. "But then, your stomach – it has not actually gotten so much worse?" She sounded tentatively hopeful.
"Not…not so much worse," murmured Lennier, and Marcus saw his fingers close around Delenn's hand. His voice trembled right along with his body. It was not a complete refutation, which indicated to Marcus that things were in fact considerably worse. Marcus supposed that if he felt exhausted after that encounter as the adrenaline dissipated through his body, the incredibly weak Lennier must be feeling all the worse now that the acute moment of stress had passed. His already depleted strength must be down to almost nothing.
Delenn, so attuned to Lennier's condition, picked up on the cue as well, and she bit her bottom lip with worry and lovingly cupped her hand to Lennier's face for a moment. But despite her fretting over Lennier and her desire to care for him, Marcus could see that she was conflicted. She glanced up at Shakiri, a mingling of disgust and odd concern on her face. Zack and the security team seemed nearly ready to take Shakiri to either a holding cell or an interrogation room, but Delenn held up a hand, telling them to wait.
"I am coming with you, Mister Allan." Her voice was quiet, but it was not a tone Marcus would have argued with. Zack, however, tried.
"Ma'am, I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that. He just tried to commit murder on this station – he's my responsibility and I can't have him hurting you."
He's brave. Or maybe stupid, thought Marcus in mild amusement.
Delenn's tone was quite suddenly sharp enough to make a surgical incision. "He is suspected of committing terrorist acts on my world. As Minbari ambassador to this station, I have the right to speak to any Minbari citizen being held by station security."
"But jurisdiction…" Zack started.
Definitely stupid, thought Marcus.
"You will allow me to come with you and speak to Shakiri privately. When I am finished, you may do with him what you will in accordance with your protocols. That is what will happen, if you wish to avoid an interplanetary incident. Do I make myself clear, Mister Allan?"
The stubborn security chief had been broken; he lowered his eyes.
"Yes, Ambassador. Will you be coming now?"
"Just a moment." Delenn turned back to Lennier, whose eyes had gone wide in horror.
"Delenn, he'll hurt you, it's not safe!" Ashen hands clutched at Delenn's smooth porcelain-like ones. "Please don't go with him, please…"
"It will be fine, Lennier. I have to talk to him about the temple. This could be my only chance to get the answers we need." Delenn stroked his knuckles with her thumbs, but the action did not seem to have any effect. Lennier whimpered, his eyes swimming with tears.
"You will be all right, my dear," Delenn soothed. She laid a comforting hand on his forehead and visibly tried to stifle a wince as she felt the intensity of the fever radiating off of him. "I will be back before you know it. And Marcus will stay with you until then."
"Delenn, I really think I ought to go with you…" Marcus cautioned, but Delenn cut him off, clearly very much finished with people contradicting her.
"Marcus, I need you to stay with Lennier just now, until I return. Please do this for me." She was stern, but in her voice there was also a sense of someone asking a friend for a much-needed favor.
Marcus hesitated, every fiber of his being screaming not to let her go alone. But who was he to argue with his Entil'Zha?
"All right," he murmured. "But please be careful."
"Thank you," she murmured before turning back to Lennier, whose thin shoulders were shuddering with sobs even as he hunched over in the bed, one arm pressed tenderly against his abdomen to try to contain the pain.
"P…please don't go, Delenn." Marcus marveled at the fact that Delenn was able to resist Lennier's plaintive pleading, although it appeared that it was no easy feat. There was turmoil in those gray eyes.
"Be strong, my sweet Lennier," Delenn murmured before getting to her feet. She walked toward the doorway, exchanging a full, ice-cold look with Shakiri as she passed him. And then the entire entourage was gone, Delenn with her head held high at the front and Shakiri in the middle, his calves being prodded by the toes of security officers when he refused to walk quickly enough.
Lennier stared after Delenn, sobbing unabashedly. Marcus glanced up at the vitals monitor above the bed. Lennier's body temperature was nearly one hundred four degrees – no wonder he was so emotional.
"Hey, Lennier," Marcus started gently. At the sound of his voice, Lennier seemed to suddenly remember that he was there, and he turned around, eyes frantic and desperate.
"Marcus, you have to go after her, you can't just let her go alone, he's going to kill her, Marcus, she'll…" He stopped, cried out, and doubled over in pain, unable to stop the sobs that only contributed to his agony. Marcus laid a hand on his arm until the pain had subsided enough for him to straighten out again.
"Delenn can take care of herself," Marcus reassured him. "If anyone can handle this, it's her. I'm sure she'll be completely fine."
"But…oh." Lennier bit back the rising tide of pain. "But I don't want her to get hurt, Marcus, we can't let her get hurt…"
And so commenced what seemed like hours of the same cycle over and over again – Lennier, far too painful and upset to sleep, continued to panic and worry over Delenn while Marcus did his best to comfort him, from verbally reassuring him to rubbing small, slow circles into his back. Nothing seemed to help – the fever was too high and the danger too near for Lennier to ever believe Marcus. But Marcus knew he had to try, both for Lennier's sake and because Delenn had asked him to.
But, he thought as Lennier let out yet another choking sob and curled in on himself, of course it cannot be easy.