The Windsword Clan

Chapter 21: Loose Ends

"I don't belong here anymore," said Firuun. It came out almost soft. He could still make the rafters ring – not that Whitestar 97 had rafters – when he needed to, but his usual booming voice had become subdued after his throat injury.

"You are still the best chief engineer and the best first officer I am likely to get," Khunnier said. Khunnier sensed that a long conversation was in the offing, so he relieved the crick he got in his neck from looking up at Firuun by clambering on top of an engine housing. He refrained from kicking his legs as he sat on his perch.

Firuun shook his head. "But you don't really need me. When I was – away— the second engineer handled the ship well, and Milenn has turned out to be a very competent exec. I would never have guessed. But then, I knew her when she used to complain about having to study and preferred to climb trees."

Khunnier just nodded. He knew Firuun was not done.

"When I first came onboard, this lot of young warriors needed a father figure. But they've settled down into routines, know what they're doing, and don't really need the old Clan Chief peering over their shoulders all the time anymore. Besides, it's peaceful out there now. This patrol corridor, part of the Alliance, is no different from patrolling the interior of Minbari space in a war cruiser. Except nobody has a private cabin and there are a lot fewer luxuries onboard."

"If you're looking for an interesting fight, I suggest that your clan fortress is not the place to find it."

"Maybe," Firuun scowled. "The negotiations with Clan Serati are still dragging on. Nobody's happy with the tie. And that girl I rolled over on my way to Brinon has gone on ISN pleading for her own clan chief to listen to her and make peace. She also accused us of trying to assassinate him. It's a mess."

"Ah. So you are not restless because you need more fighting than the Whitestar Fleet can currently provide. Nor do you want out of here because you were broken by prison."

"No, no. If that was going to happen it would have happened in the human prison. Humans can be so strange. For example, they have a very strange custom regarding soap. If you ever have the misfortune to find yourself in a human prison, no matter what anybody tells you, don't pick it up."

Khunnier just blinked. He did not understand the reference.

"Oh, and Khunnier… don't ever tell Sheridan I said that. He'd be livid."

"About insulting a custom?"

"No. Never mind. Nothing happened, really. I mean, I'm a seven foot tall Minbari. Some people will try anything once. But not twice."

"I do not understand."

"Nor should you. My mind is made up. I am not needed here. But I am needed at the clan fortress. Trouble may come. Serati is a small clan, with few clan alliances, but someone is backing them. Nelonn told me he thinks Shadow servants are involved. The Anla'shok are watching Serati, but if they simply try a straight invasion of the clan fortress, it will be a clan matter, and the Anla'shok cannot get involved. It is only a matter for the Alliance if the Drakh show themselves, and right now, they are perhaps too busy celebrating their victory."

"A victory that will never come," Khunnier said confidently. "Thanks to your daughter." He shuddered. He could not think about Dilis without remembering the horrible things that had happened on Desnara. But her cause was just.

And he could stand tall again; Nelonn had been right. Khunnier was a lot more confident now. He might still shudder, but he did not cringe and cower.

"No one knows that yet," Firuun said. "The people of Earth still think they're all going to die."

"So they must believe. So everyone must believe. Until there is enough cure ready for everyone."

"I know. And there is nothing further you or I can do about that. All there is now is the waiting. But I can go home and help my clan. It is my place, and my duty. And my honor. And my mess to clean up. I will go the next time we make port."

"Alright, Firuun. It has been an honor serving with you."

"Likewise. Your turn."

"What?"

"Something is troubling you. Something more than the silly brouhaha Nelonn has gotten mixed up in, with some worker caste artist and a substitute Carla figure, about some art project that has the whole military caste stirring around like an evalosh nest. Who knew my caste cared about art?"

Khunnier shrugged. "I had not heard of that, actually. Fill me in later. Yes, you are right, something is troubling me. It's my clan. They seem to believe that my stature as a Captain means that I should wed, and soon, even though I am still quite young. And they have found a candidate for me."

"Oh, no. Is she awful?"

"Well, I don't know. I've never met her. But naturally she is religious caste. I joined the Anla'shok to get away from that life. Spending all day praying. Meditating. Rituals for everything. Religious can't even eat without doing a ritual. I've gotten used to the more relaxed customs of the warrior caste, living as I do on an all-warrior caste ship."

"Ah. Well, I have the obvious solution. Marry a warrior caste female."

"Well yes, I supposed I'll have to. Finding my own mate is the only way out of an arranged marriage."

"If you do find one, will your clan allow you to make the choice?" Firuun was thinking of his Star Rider sweetheart, all those years ago, that his clan had not allowed him to marry.

"They will have to," Khunnier said. "Because when I joined the Anla'shok I became warrior caste. If they try to force me I will tell the female's clan that I have no intention of honoring religious caste customs in my home. And that will be the truth."

"I see." Firuun nodded. "I take it you have no one in mind? I thought the Clan Itma females were all over everyone at Nelonn's coming of age ceremony."

"Not me. I'm not a Windsword. They could not speak to me directly."

"Ah. And here I thought there was no one that Ilienn did not try to rope in."

"What, she tried for you?" Khunnier asked.

"She did. It would have been a customary match, according to the dalshon tradition. Carla's closest female relative, counting her adoption as becoming the daughter of their clan chief. But I will never marry again. I told her so. And so she went off to try her luck with the other unattached Windswords in order of rank. But nobody wants a wife who can't speak to outsiders. She could neither manage a household nor accompany someone on his ship. The dalshon will have to change that custom if they want clan alliances beyond the other dalshon."

Khunnier nodded.

"So. What about Milenn?"

"Milenn? Oh. I had not thought of her that way. But, I suppose… we do work well together. We get along. She is good at what she does. That is a start."

"It is indeed. I will speak with her."

"No, let me," Khunnier said. "If you speak to her about it, it will be clan chief speaking to clan member, and she might feel pressured to say yes even if she has someone else. The arrangements can be made clan to clan after I speak to Milenn myself. And after at least a few preliminary rituals are done. At least as far as the sleep watch."

Firuun nodded. "You are right."