The Long Trial

by R Coles

Havah Lassee is a hybrid whose race is unknown. After fighting as a Marine in the EarthMinbari War, the identity of her alien parent is revealed. The ensuing Shadow War brings her to Alyt Neroon and the realization of her family and who she needs to be.

26. Chapter 26

This story is based on the Babylon 5 universe, created by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 26—Homecoming

Sound traveled strangely in the air around Havah, as she paced slowly through the hall, surrounded by the chambers housing the gravitational coils. The thrum muted the air. The officer on duty, awaiting her relief, showed Havah the pre-fusion and fusion chambers into which the raw deuterium was channeled. She explained the function briefly, assuming the Human already knew, from reviews of the ship specs. But it was a different thing entirely to view the system with Havah's own eyes. The equations governing the processes were completely beyond Havah, and in fact beyond any but the engineers on the ship. Thermal energy was conducted into the pre-fusion chamber to heat the deuterium to near-plasma temperatures. It was then piped into toruses in the fusion chamber, which were surrounded by gravitic coils. The gravity field, modulated by the coils, compressed the deuterium atoms until they fused, releasing photons which were trapped by surrounding banks of crystals, like jagged glittering rows of teeth. The waste products, like helium, were funneled into storage for the hyperspace navigation system. From the banks, the crystal batteries could be removed and plugged into the propulsion system to power gravitic coils, which created and projected a gravity well in whichever direction the ship needed to move.

The officer left, and Havah began her inspections of the cold back-up coils. There were three pre-fusion, and fusion chambers, and three sets of coils for the propulsion drive, one active, and two back-ups. As she sat staring at the coils in awe, it struck her how truly advanced the Minbari were. If the sight of their hyperspace navigation and weapons hadn't brought the point home, there was no escaping it here. One thought overrode all else. The Minbari could control gravity. She had known that from her review of the White Star systems, but there had never been time for that to sufficiently sink in. Not only could they control gravity, but they appeared to control it in conjunction with a grand unified theory that gave them the ability to utilize a number of systems which, for humans, still remained completely elusive and tantamount to sorcery. If anything could have made her feel like a primitive monkey, this was it. None of the thinly masked Minbari condescension meant a damn until she saw this. They were and had been thousands of years ahead of everyone else except the mysterious Guardians, and Shadows, for hundreds of years before the war with the weak primates they seemed to seek the friendship of now. And despite their mastery of physics, despite their apparent ability to completely annihilate a species not far above cave-dwellers in comparison, they had stopped and surrendered…because of a conviction. No wonder the warriors were angry. How could the knowledge of this kind of power not completely fill their minds?

And the Vorlons seemed like remote gods to many of the Minbari, their technology making Minbari marvels of physics seem like crude child's play. She shivered in the chamber, thinking of the floating entity she had seen emerge from the encounter suit, unchanged since her vision of it a thousand years earlier. If the Minbari had come close to mastering gravity, had the Vorlons mastered time, and existence outside of de Sitter space? What limits were left for them in this galaxy? Yet here they were, shrouded in the corners of Minbari temples. Her head throbbed and she resumed her tasks solemnly.

This was what it meant to be in charge, what it meant to be satai, a federal council member. "Will you follow me into fire? Will you follow me into darkness? Will you follow me into death?" Valen had asked them in the ceremony that cemented their new organization and positions, after the approval of the caste elders. "We will," they had answered. It had seemed a simple enough answer then. We are Grey. We stand between the darkness and the light, between the candle and the star. Whatever path we choose must be a shurok edge, as strong and complex as a superstring, between the seething needs of all our people and the galaxy they are tossed through, like motes in a tide. We have only the data of the past to help us imagine dimly the future, and on this thready film of information we must act, we must choose a course that will effect millions, even billions. Turanni trod heavily through hall of the great war ship, headed for home and an empty bed. He would have helped, she thought. She wouldn't even have had to speak of things forbidden outside of council chambers. He would have known only that she was troubled and would have found a way, through the empathy of the life-bonded, to help her feel conviction in her part of the council's decision in this matter. But he was star-dust now, and there was only the prickly presence of the Guardians, from whom they could view only reflections of possible futures, like silhouettes through opaque crystal.

The engineer had come to the council with an announcement, flushed with excitement, at the end of the war, with a new proposal for the ending of all other wars. The project's form had been hidden by the perfectionist guild until its completion, and its presence now, within the deepest sanctuary of the Shelter changed the galaxy, roiling the atoms of her thoughts until they each took on the weight of twisted black holes. The door, marked with nine stars opened slowly…and the possibility of seeing the object within the chamber vanished, as the dream shifted into obtuse nightmare. Havah moaned in frustration and horror as she viewed the sole occupant of the altered dream chamber, surrounded by gravitic coils pulling and distorting his shape, cruelly twisting his Human form. Sinclair. He doubled and folded, and screamed as the waves tore him apart through time and space, and ridges of sharp bone cut through scalp where hair used to be, and his face took on a shape she had known and knew now a thousand years later. Valen.

Havah opened her eyes to the unchanging ceiling of her quarters as her waking alarm chimed.

No word had come from Alyt Rennir concerning the crystal recording of the Shadow vessels, and the five companions waited tensely, subsuming their thoughts beneath games of 'spoons' and cups of hal'chi, laughing more heartily at small things than anyone really felt. The ship would dock at the home-world soon, for shore leave of a couple days.

Polenni and Kol went to visit family. Kilshinn prepared to meet his fiancée for the final ceremony before joining, and to oversee the meeting of the two families. "You should accompany me, as a clan member, and a cousin. It is important for you to be involved in the rest of the clan, and certainly in affairs concerning our family. If you have never sat in attendance at a pleasure ritual, this is a good time."

Havah's face burned crimson at the thought of hearing her relative, distant though he may be, in the throes of passion. "Uh…" She stuttered, not wanting to insult him, but desperately wanting to be anywhere else. "I…uh…I can't. I'm sorry. You are absolutely right, I should be there. But this time, I can't. I must see Entilzah Sinclair about a matter." That was the truth.

He pursed his lips disapprovingly, but didn't argue the point. "Very well. This time. But I, we, expect you to be present for the marriage ceremony and to become involved in clan matters. You are not only a student of your father, you belong to all of us."

She balked at the use of the term 'belong'.

He just shook his head as he reviewed the immaculate state of his quarters. "Humans are spooked by the strangest things. I do not understand why any of these ideas should make you so uneasy. Joining with another is a natural part of life, and the families that are created from unions are networks of people, all linked to one another. Why should this seem such a terrible thing? I thought that Human families were not that different from our own."

"They're not…I guess we're just not always as formal about it. I guess some are. I have Italian friends who all get together for every event that happens in anybody's life. They're all in each other's business all the time. I always loved visiting them for Christmas and Thanksgiving and everything else, but my Italian friends always complained about that aspect of their family lives, and I could see how that might get kind of…intrusive sometimes. My mom…my adopted mom always gives me a huge guilt trip if I don't call her for a while to let her know what is going on in my life."

He looked at her peculiarly. "Of course, and why should she not? You are her child, you are linked. This fear of…intrusion…Humans do not at first seem to be so private. You pour your every thought all over anyone who stands still long enough to listen. I would not think one could avoid being 'in everyone else's business' in a Human family. I wonder that your race even needs telepaths."

She grinned. "And Minbari seem to be all privacy, I'm surprised that there is such a strong sense of ownership."

"Reservation is different from privacy, and privacy has its place. We do not display our thoughts crudely or without consideration, precisely because we are all connected. We cannot but acknowledge the ownership to each other. It is simply reality." He smiled and went to meet his beloved, leaving Havah to her business.

The room was dim, revealing crags in Sinclair's face that weren't there the last time she'd seen him. The scar on his cheek was livid, as a symphony of emotions all suffused his face at once: bewilderment, awe, anger, grief, determination, serenity, and strangely, resignation. His quarters were nearly bare, and had the feeling of vacancy.

He looked up from meditation. "Hello, old friend."

"You weren't even going to say goodbye? You were just going to leave?" Havah said, stepping in as he concluded, eliciting a distinctly guilty look from him as he wearily rose.

Just like I did…so long ago, she thought.

"I sent a message." He said apologetically.

"I'll get it when I return, I guess." She stood in front of him. Neither of them knew what to say, or who should speak first.

He did, puzzled. "How did you know I was leaving?"

She shrugged.

He started to speak again, to say that he was going to Babylon 5, on a mission, and she should return to her duty aboard the Yanazha, and that others could handle command until his return, but they had known each other too long for the half-truth. And so he fell silent, and went instead to a drawer and took out a few data crystals. He took her hand and laid them in her palm. She fingered them each in turn.

"You are the one who always appreciated them the most. They need a good home, and they can't come with me."

She just looked at him, wide-eyed.

"Tennyson." He said. "Catherine hated them, even though she could recite all of the poems by heart. That was my fault."

Havah smiled. "I know. Thank you…So what now?"

"Now…now, you finish your tour of duty, and return to command the Rangers when you are done…if that is what you still want. I will understand if you do not, or if your father has changed his mind about allowing you to remain."

"My father doesn't own my decision, I do. And I still choose the Anla Shok…but not as its leader…not now." She gestured down at her ranat's uniform. "Many of the Minbari Rangers are religious and worker caste. I do not think they would be so comfortable with someone of my…background, any more."

"Many of the Rangers are also Human. And they may be wary at first, because of the association with the warrior caste, but they know you and trust you."

She nodded sadly. "True. But the Humans do not need me, or anyone, as much as the Minbari Rangers need someone they feel comfortable with, and they fear Neroon. I think they are nervous about his connection to me. They are more sensitive, in odd ways, than the Humans."

"I understand." He looked at her carefully. "The choice is yours. Give it some thought. There is a little time, I think. I'm glad to hear that you are staying, in any case. The Anla Shok would be very sorry to lose you. You've come a long way." He took her by the shoulders.

As he looked down into her eyes, she could see tatters of dream trailing from his head, wreathed like a phantom crest. "I'm sorry, Na." She said suddenly.

The confusion was back, as he cocked his head, brown eyes soft. "For what?"

"For failing you." Her eyes suddenly flooded.

His brow furrowed in concern. "Because of your wish to refuse a promotion? I think you're crazy," he grinned trying to lighten her solemnity, "but that's a matter of option, something no one can decide for you."

She shook her head, almost laughing, wraiths of a dusty defeated world floating around her, drowning the cries of a Minbari child. We are become Grey. We stand between the darkness and the light, between the candle and the star. "It's not that." A tear slid down her face.

He looked even more puzzled. "What is it, Havah?…"

She didn't answer, just stood, eyes closed, fumbling for words, seeking absolution for some slight she couldn't articulate.

He spoke intensely. "You haven't failed me. You have never failed me. Don't ever think that."

She looked down and let out a long breath. I bet you won't say that a thousand years from now. But there was nothing more to say, and it was time for him to go. She swiped her face and let him pull her into a long hug that they both knew would be the last. She pocketed the data crystals, grasped his forearms, and left him to the tide of time.

Felshenn repressed an odd feeling of…relief when Havah trounced in, unharmed and as annoying as ever. Her hair had begun to grow out a little, rounding her cheeks. "You again?" He drawled. "I had heard that the ship was docking for shore leave. I see you have managed to avoid being spaced, or caged and brought home in shame."

He'd heard about that even here. "I didn't do anything to risk your precious Star Rider honor!"

"I am a Moon Shield. It is your family's honor that I am worried about." He retorted, and then started in on her scrofulous appearance. "How is it that you managed to spend three months aboard a fine military vessel, and still come home looking as though someone hauled you into the laundry recycling unit along with your clothes?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's so nice to see you too! Where is my father?"

"He is in conference with Shakiri."

"I didn't realize that Minbari culture allowed such marriages."

"In Valen's name! He is your father!" He blustered, face turning scarlet at the insinuation. "Has no one on that ship been able to teach you even an iota of respect?"

She stared directly at him, plopped into a chair, deliberately perched her feet on his desk, and leaned back. "Nope! I'm incorrigible. Are you going to beat the tar out of me and confine me to quarters?…Narsa?"

He fumed silently, and shoved her feet off the desk in a rough swipe. "No. Because that is precisely what you are asking for! You would enjoy it too much! I will leave you to baste in your own fantasies."

"Someone thinks a little too much of himself."

He clenched his fists and his teeth, and said between them. "Return to your post or go ruin someone else's day. They will be in conference for a long time and I do not have the resources to entertain children."

"How long? I can wait. I have a significant matter to…discuss with him!" She growled, thinking about his row with Entilzah Sinclair, concerning her assignment. There would be no more tolerance for interfering with her Anla Shok duties, even if it meant open defiance.

He grimaced, not entirely from the thought of her lingering. "Far too long to warrant your presence here when you surely have other duties."

Her vigilant eyes caught his fleeting look of unease. "What are they on about?"

"What they discuss is neither of our concerns."

"But you are concerned, whether you should be or not."

He tossed down the paper he was trying to distract her with, in a mute gesture of surrender. He was obviously not going to get any work done today. "Your powers of observation are astounding, Anla Shok."

Havah didn't respond to the sarcasm, just stared at him, waiting, which was far more unnerving.

But he resisted, looking back at her nonchalantly. He didn't know which side of her made him more wary, her Human side, or the side of her related to her father, a man now in conference with the object of his reserve.

She ventured. "I made some friends aboard the Yanazha—No…wait…I know you're shocked, but I did. And they said that Shai Alyt Shakiri is seeking to gain supremacy for the warrior caste, being the most experienced caste in terms of security, and that he believes that wars should be fought for practical gain, not abstract concepts. Is that what they are discussing?"

"I have no idea." He gazed levelly.

"Well, ok then." She rose, realizing the attempt futile and started out the door.

"Where are you going?" Suddenly, the idea of her leaving made him more uneasy than her direct inquiry. She was Anla Shok, she would try poking around Shakiri another way, one which could be much more disastrous.

"What, you couldn't wait to see the door hitting my backside, and now you need my itinerary?"

"I was just entertaining the nasty notion that you were going to do something foolish. I can't imagine why I would harbor that impression."

She chuffed angrily. "I'm not going to do anything to get my father in trouble alright? Or the Star Riders! I've gotten this far, haven't I? What is it going to take for you people to stop tailing me, waiting for me to screw up? Do you think I didn't figure out that I was being watched on the Yanazha? How dumb do you think I am?" She pushed the button and the door whooshed open.

He lowered his head wearily, and moved quickly in front of her, shutting it with a quick stab, and dropping his voice. "You are right. I, we, underestimated you." He sighed and continued carefully. "Look. A while ago, I asked you if things were bad with your government back home, and you said 'yes'. Since then, I have been following the events unfolding on your world. They have now passed a critical point, yes? Civil war is upon you, and still, the forces that drove you to it are working, the man called Clarke?"

"Yes." Her breath caught, shifting from anger to astonishment.

"Well, Minbar faces a similar crossroads now, similar, but not the same. We have not yet…'crossed the Rubicon', as your general Caesar said, and your current President Clarke is a clumsy obvious fool next to Shai Alyt Shakiri, with far less power than he realizes. Shakiri, on the other hand, is well aware of what power he commands and what his limits are. Do not cross him!"

"If he's so dangerous, and if he poses such a threat to Minbari unity, why is my father collaborating with him?"

Felshenn ran his hand over his crest in a frustrated gesture she had never seen him use, and paced back toward his desk, and sat down, motioning for her to do the same. "We are speaking frankly…"

She sat and nodded.

"Because Alyt Neroon possesses a similar…trait to your friend Delenn, his nemesis. As arrogant, presumptuous, and self-righteous as she is, they both maintain an unshakeable faith in the goodness of their castes. And for both, this translates into unquestioning faith in the honor of their superiors."

"They're both idealistic."

He nodded. "Neroon less so than Delenn perhaps. His warrior training has taught him to be vigilant, and he is…a difficult man to please, expecting often to be disappointed, but he continues to expect from others what he expects from himself. That makes him an honorable man, but it also means that he is slower to see the possibility of betrayal when there may be cause. A part of him acknowledges the possibility, and then refuses it. The betrayal of the Grey Council during the war cut him deeply, and yet, he merely narrowed the focus of his loyalty to our caste, still unable to accept that some of that betrayal came from the warriors on the Council, members of our own caste. Shakiri knows the depth of his devotion, and uses it."

"If he's being used, why isn't anyone trying to stop it? If you are so loyal, why aren't you trying to get Neroon away from him?"

He said, acidly, "It's not that simple. You know your father, and he is not a fool. I have said as much as I can without committing sedition. He is aware of our opinions, and remains where he is…There is another thing you must understand. Whatever Neroon believes about Shakiri now, he is the most dangerous person Shakiri will face, if Neroon should change his mind."

"He's the only one who can keep Shakiri in line."

"That expression works as well as any. He is the best chance our people have of averting a slide into anarchy more deleterious than any we have seen in millennia. It was what the Grey Council was meant to prevent. And now they are gone."

She shook her head. "That sucks." She said in English.

He smiled sadly, still speaking in Dark Minbari. "It is strange. Sometimes your most primitive Human tongue is more apropos than any words I can find in my own language."

"Is Neroon the only one with the power to do anything?"

"Not the only one, but the balances of cause and effect must be weighed, and he is the one in the best position. You come from a different world. You talk, act and think like someone who has never had to govern what you say or with whom you associate. It shapes you and makes it difficult for you to fathom the strictures or rules of a world in which things are not as you know them. It makes you freer, but it simplifies you because you have only a frame of reference for politics that accents the individual and the individual power to act and be heard. You have always had the luxury of shock when someone tries to take away your right to speak as you will, and your world-view collapses when someone succeeds in abolishing that right. But we have learned to work and influence without it. The Anla Shok taught you caution, but not enough. This is not the world in which you were raised…and it seems that your home-world is no longer the world to which you are accustomed either, and you have not adjusted your way of operating to accept that yet."

She sighed heavily. "No…you're right. It's what got me in trouble a few months ago. I'm just as idealistic as my father, I think. I'm aware on some level of the danger, the way things have changed, and harbor a certain amount of cynicism concerning the system and the government as it is, but a part of me refuses to believe it and keeps treating it as though it's just another piece of fiction on a movie-vid from someone else's story, someone else's life. This kind of collapse of the Constitution and civil structure can only happen to other nations, not to ours, that's what the voice in the front of my head tells me every time I look at another piece of evidence, every time I hear another bit of misinformation from ISN, reporting what Clark wants them to say. I want to believe them. Every time I hear them, I think, 'Well, maybe they really are right, and there's nothing funny going on.'"

"And what do your other voices tell you?"

"To be afraid, to be careful, at least. That it is happening to us, and it seems like the whole galaxy is going to hell."

"What will you do?"

"I don't know what will happen. I guess we'll find out pretty soon how tight he can pull the noose. Aside from seceding, we'll try to avoid violent confrontation for as long as possible, but we can't let him take over like this. We have to get our Senate back. What about you?"

"We cannot barrel into rebellion, with wild Earther abandon every time we do not agree with our leaders' decisions." He smiled wryly. "But we too, cannot let this go on. I suppose we must wait, to see what will happen."

She sighed again, ruefully. "I hate waiting."

"Yes, I had noticed that." He sifted through the mountain of reports, letting her sit and wait for the conference to end, while he returned to work. After a half an hour, she lost patience. There was only a couple of days leave and she wasn't going to spend them watching Felshenn desk-surf, so she headed for the door. He tossed down a sheaf in exasperation, and rose, creaking, to follow her. His eyes were blurring from the scrutiny of reading, and he caught up with her, stretching his legs and rubbing his eyes.

She looked sideways at him. "What do you want? I thought you didn't have time to 'entertain children'?"

"I am taking a short respite. Besides, I was reminded that there is something that you should see, now that you have time away from the ship, and you are here. Your father does not currently have time to show you." He strode to a flyer, beckoning her and folding himself into the car.

They left the city and went a long ways into the countryside. In a small hamlet, surrounded by a forest of mammoth trees, with broad amaranthine spear-shaped leaves carpeting the forest floor, he stopped the craft. The air was piney and cool, with the shade of the canopy far, far above, and opened out to a broad hidden circle of houses, shops, and roads. A wide practice field lay to one side. They entered a large house near the edge of town. It was fashioned of white hard lattice-like wood, and black stone, presumably from the enormous trees and local rock, and set partly into the rolling terrain. Light poured in the crystal windows, dappling the hall. "This is where your ancestors, at least some of them, have lived for the past three thousand years. Your grandmother, Alyt Neroon's mother, resided here until last year. He lived here as a child as well, until he was sent to the academy."

Havah looked around awestruck. "Why doesn't she live here anymore?"

"She died of illness. She had been ailing for the past five years. It was thought that she would survive. She was strong. But she worsened suddenly, and in one night, she slipped away. She had served on the Council of Caste Elders, but her health prevented her from recovering fully in the city, so she returned here. Neroon attended her frequently, but he has not been back since attending to her cremation and final affairs."

Dust motes twinkled in the bright air. The ancient house breathed the vapors of age and long lives nestled into its bones. "What about my grandfather?"

"He left on a ship venturing into a little-traveled area of our space, forty-six years ago. Between jump-points, an anomaly in hyperspace caused one of the beacons to give miscalculations near their last known position. They have not returned. It is likely that they were led off-course and were not able to locate another jump point."

"Wow!" She paced down a hall leading to a room with a large tilted bed, big enough for two adult Minbari. It had been undisturbed for a year or more. Another room was empty except for an altar with a burnt candle and a broad crystal window looking out on a garden, split by a trickling spring, a meditation room. The stone floor in front of the altar was worn by repetitive impression. She went and knelt in the depressions shaped like knees and closed her eyes. The coolness of the room moved around her, with a draft she couldn't isolate. She opened her eyes to a reflection in the bay window, piercing dark eyes and a square but female jaw, not her own. As she stared and focused her eyes, the phantasm shifted and her own image faced her in astonishment.

Felshenn rounded the corner, leaned on the lintel and caught her expression before it too, faded.

She turned to gaze at him.

He didn't look surprised. "She used to meditate there, when she was home, more after Londal, your grandfather, was gone. It was her favorite spot. Neroon began to wonder if she was turning religious towards the end. I suppose she had reason."

"Did anyone else meditate here?"

"Everyone."

She rose and wandered past, out into the yard, following some instinct for motion. A path climbed an incline to face the base of one of the giant trees. She followed around the base to the side. It was so wide that both of her arms didn't even reach one-fourth's distance around it. The tree was pocked with meshes of holes, like a woven tapestry of branches and veins, collectively making up a single trunk. She squeezed her hand into the darkness of a larger hole, a little higher on the trunk than she expected, waiting for some Panic creature to snap her fingers off in sharp little teeth. But the tips touched something hard, not wood. She peered into the black, shining a crystal beam to catch the form. It was smooth to the touch, and cool. The reflection shone back a cobalt blue, like deep ocean water, ensnared by coils of fibrous trunk that had snaked up around it, forming a cellulose prison.

The tear-drop shone deep-blue in Turanni's small palm as her other fingers stroked its curve. It was the most beautiful and interesting thing she'd ever seen. Her father closed her fingers over it. "Close your eyes, Graceful Bone. And listen, feel it. It is one of Dol 'An's tears, from the Beginning. Can you feel her?"

The obsidian drop remained cool even in the warmth of her hand, like the tears the goddess-entity had shed, slaking the hot thirst of a planet being born, empty of life. In the tear-drops were the seeds of life, the solution to Her loneliness. It felt alive in Turanni's hand, vibrant and soothing…magical.

She looked up at Father in wonder, and licked it. "What is it made of?" She asked irreverently, wanting to know if Dol'An's tears were salty like Minbari tears.

He laughed a throaty baritone and beamed at her impudence. "It is volcanic glass, my little curious one. There is no ethereal abstraction for you, I see. Perhaps I should be sending you to one of the science guilds instead of the Academy…but your mother would come back across the veil and choke me as I slept, I think. Besides…the Academy will need more minds like yours. That I know." He wrapped his arms around her and picked her up, kissing the side of her neck again, savoring the fading traces of her baby-scent. Next year, everything would change. She would go to military school, and the little girl wouldn't be little anymore. The unrest between the clan fleets and between the Academies was escalating. It was only a matter of time. He put her down.

And she looked up, sensing a darkening of mood. "Father?"

He smiled, mournfully, and cupped her hand holding the stone. "In another year or two, you will leave me. Take it with you. Every time you miss home, you just put it in your hand and Dol'An will send you my love. You see the blue? The blue is the ocean. We came from the ocean, and the water does things for us. It can hold our thoughts, our dreams, our souls, just little pieces of us, so we can see far away."

Her limpid eyes were wide, and her fingers tight around the droplet. "I can feel it." She put the little stone in the tiny curve of her ear. "I can hear the sea!"

He laughed again, like the sonic rumble of a loktar.

Havah withdrew her fingers, and padded back down the path to where Felshenn sat patiently, whittling a little branch.

"She was here too, wasn't she?"

"Who?"

"…Turanni."

"Of course. She was…indirectly an ancestor of yours." He looked shrewdly at her. "Why do you ask?"

"I found something, that I think might be hers."

He straightened, tossing away the whittling. "Show me."

She led him to the bole and shined the light on the obsidian.

He unsheathed a small knife and moved to saw into the tendrils of trunk trapping the artifact, but Havah put her hand on his, arresting him. "No…Please. Leave it be. She put it there for a reason."

He re-sheathed his penknife and stared at her. "How do you even know it belonged to her? What is it? You can barely see it."

"I can't explain. It's just a piece of volcanic glass…Her father gave it to her, and when he died a few months later, she buried it. It was a piece of him, and she gave it to the tree because it would be around for a long time…"

He sat back on his haunches, regarding her. "You speak as though you were there…You are not making this up, are you."

She shook her head. Felshenn scrutinized her, but said nothing further. "Very well, we will leave it be…In answer to your question: She did reside here, although she lived with the family of her cousins elsewhere after the demise of her father. And then, as a young adult, she resided mostly in the quarters provided by the military."

Havah nodded, and passed Felshenn into the house. His eyes burned into the back of her neck the whole way.

Neroon's omnipresent dour expression deepened as he took in her appearance and said under his breath. "I would have expected that three months on a battlecruiser under Alyt Rennir would have taught you proper hygiene and grooming habits!"

She didn't reply to what was clearly meant only for her ears, and stared ahead, eyes downcast, spine erect, as he surveyed her posture sourly. They had come upon Neroon and Shakiri exiting the office suites, as they entered. She stiffened, infuriated with his behavior after he had had the audacity to bully the Entilzah into changing her duties. But, the impending discussion would have to wait…again. She could see Shakiri out of the corner of her eye, taking in the entire tableau, and there was no possibility of broaching the topic of the Anla Shok in front of that snake.

While he was in Neroon's peripheral vision, his face remained calm and haughty as was his privilege as a superior officer, but when Neroon's back turned to him, Havah saw a change transform Shakiri's face as surely as if a fairy glamour had fallen away to reveal the true goblin underneath. His eyes were rapacious and searing with a hatred for her or her Humanity, or chillingly, in an even briefer flash, for the executive officer in front of him. She couldn't tell. He quickly regained composure, and the shift was gone as quickly as it had revealed itself. But not quickly enough. Felshenn, like the dutiful soldier he was, had averted his eyes initially, and stood at attention, but a furtive glance at him told her what he had seen as well.

Neroon continued, oblivious. "I received a report from Alyt Rennir. It appears that you were at the center of an incident. He provided me with the details as he knew them. Your behavior…reflected your training…adequately. I hope however, that such incidents will be avoided in the future. You have been at the center of attention long enough."

"Yes, Na!"

"Good." He strode out, apparently too uncomfortable to say anything further, with his commanding officer standing there.

What had she expected anyway, a hug and hello, 'I'm so glad to see you haven't died yet', 'Let's have a root beer together, Beav'? Golly Dad, that would be swell! Nevertheless, she watched their receding backs, feeling somehow empty.

"He is not a demonstrative man. But he is pleased by the report." Felshenn said, from behind her shoulder.

"If you say so." She swiveled around and looked up briefly, quashing a lump that rose in her throat. "I have to get back. It was nice to see you. Later." She saluted hastily and then hurried away.

The hum of the ship was almost comforting as Havah stared out a port hole into hyperspace. It was disorienting for some, but the chameleon aurora of hyperspace waves couldn't compare with the brumous clouds that chased one another across her face.

"Your shore leave did not go well?" Polenni asked cautiously.

"It went ok." Havah's blatant lie hung in the air, but clearly she did not want further scrutiny.

So, as a properly courteous friend might, Polenni patted her on the shoulder and ceased prying, wondering what could have gone so wrong. Ah well, after a few hal'chis, she might want to talk.

But after a few hal'chis, Havah realized that she had to come to a decision about the Anla Shok and their leadership.

Polenni just stared incredulously at the news. "Where did he go? Clearly he believes that he is not returning, if he has offered you the command. Where is he going, and why now, if the threat of these Shadows is upon us? Perhaps it is a mission to fight them, one dangerous or hopeless enough to assume his sacrifice, but then…why would he not send someone else, someone not in charge of an entire army? It makes no sense strategically…and…while I harbor no love for him…he does not seem like a deserter."

Havah shook her head. "He isn't. He is going to fight the Shadows, and couldn't take any of us with him, but he could not give me the details."

"Why did you not follow him? Normally, I would not advocate for questioning one's superior officer, but it is also your duty to protect him. Why did you not inquire further?"

"I can't explain. I think it had something to do with time."

"What do you mean…time. There was no time to question?"

"No. I mean…I think that he was going somewhere that I couldn't follow him, somewhere out of synch with the rest of the galaxy…maybe somewhen instead of somewhere."

"That is the most absurd thing I have ever heard." But Polenni remained pensive. "So you have been offered the leadership of one of the legendary fighting forces of our race, and you are not sure if you want to take it?…The question of whether or not you are qualified to take it notwithstanding, it is being offered! Are you a complete bodo!"

Havah ignored the ubiquitous dig about her capabilities in favor of the peculiar term Polenni had chosen. "A what?"

"A bodo!…One of your Earth idiots…they dress up and entertain people with their foolery…a bodo!"

Havah burst into laughter. "A bozo, a clown!"

"Yes, yes!" She waved irritably. "You are evading the question."

"It's not a question of not wanting it. I just think, at the moment, that I am not qualified to take it, as you said."

Polenni sat back regarding her. "I agree that there are far more experienced soldiers than you who deserve the encomium far more, and may provide the Anla Shok with more efficient leadership…However…it was to you Sinclair offered it. You have worked closely with him for some time. While many of us disapproved of his appointment, he has not dishonored the Anla Shok yet, and…" She hesitated to admit "he has made progress with their re-instatement as a fighting force…when many of our clans refused to respond under his leadership. He has demonstrated worthiness in at least this capacity. And if he has chosen you, then he has faith in you. Why would you spurn his decision? He would know better than anyone, currently. I am sad to say…that he knows the Anla Shok better than my own caste does right now, since many of us are on active duty." She made clear her feelings about the stature of the Anla Shok when compared, at least, to the regular military, but her point was good, and her back-handed compliment, still a compliment.

"Well, that's just it. Your caste doesn't know them anymore. Both the Humans and the Minbari among them, most of them anyway, are uncomfortable with someone who holds a position in your regular military. The politics are just too bad right now. And since I have neither the extensive experience, nor represent someone whom they can be comfortable with…"

"So whom will he hand the command to then?" Kol interjected. "It is after all, a warrior caste establishment, founded by a warrior. Even if most of the members are not now members of the military, at least Sinclair was a soldier! I certainly hope that the religious caste doesn't mistakenly see this as an opportunity for more power, and whine forth one of their priests for the position."

"I don't know. It's his decision. I don't really know what else he had in mind. But Sinclair isn't one to be influenced by whining, so I wouldn't worry about that."

"I still think that you are being a nin…a nincom…" She made an indecipherable sound of frustration, "…you know what I intend! A fool to refuse the faith of your superior officer. He would not ask such things of you lightly. It is your duty to serve as he believes fit." She had clearly been researching English, and while most of her diction was flawless, there were some slippery words she just couldn't fathom. She flushed in ill-temper.

"A nincompoop?"

"What is the origin of such ridiculous phrases? Do Humans simply cobble together the most erratic and bizarre-sounding syllables your vocal chords can emit?"

"If you hate the language so much, why are you bothering to expend the energy to learn it, if it causes you so much aggravation?"

"Because she is succumbing to patrol madness." Kol smiled slowly.

Polenni sighed in exasperation. "Shut up, Kol! Because…because while it is primitive and unruly…it describes many things…Many words sound like what they are…it is a strangely descriptive language."

Havah grinned. "I'll show you a thesaurus sometime, if you think that's confusing."

"A thesaurus? I do not understand, is that not one of your extinct reptiles, with the giant sharp teeth?"

Havah hid another giggle behind her hand. "No, that's a tyrannosaurus."

"Hphhh!" Polenni chuffed with irritation, and threw her hands up.

"Patience, patience! I didn't learn your languages in a few days either."

"Yes, but our languages are extremely complex!" She struggled to cover a slowly spreading smile.

Of course, none of the banter, the humor, or Polenni's opinion helped make Havah's decision any easier. Still, she had asked for it. And maybe Polenni was right? Who was she to contradict the Entilzah? Maybe she was just being overly-sensitive, considering the present sentiments of the warrior and religious castes, letting herself get too caught up in their drama. And where had he gone? Had the dreams been more fevered phantoms, frenzied into being by her troubled slumber, or weird cells of quantum reality twisted and tortuously clinging to her subconscious as she wandered through time? He had been Valen. Of that she was certain. And somehow, he still was, and was possibly becoming Valen again. The whole subject was giving her a migraine.

She sat, still pondering the question, prodding at the obscure mass of unease in her mind, like a child poking a jellyfish with a stick to uncover some secret of the stygian abyss, some long buried neurosis. Maybe she liked her personal corner of chaos…if she followed orders, then she could always attribute her situation to wind-tossed fate. But that wasn't true either, was it? The truth shone in her mind like cords of spider's silk, the inescapable web of choices, like a trawling marlin's net. No matter what, it touched her somewhere. As she envisioned it, a deep chill swept through her bones, rippling bumps along her arms and the back of her neck and shimmying down her spine. Something was happening. Ebbing spirals of probability curled around her like slowly smoldering leaves, and faded, leaving little holes in her sense of now, as though she were looking at reality through invisible cheesecloth. Someone had 'walked over her grave'. The breath of the past fogged her vision as a Humanoid Minbari from a thousand years too late arrived in the nick of time to prevent a very different present than the one they all now occupied. The railroad tracks of their dimensional reality clicked into place, and the click settled into Havah's gut. In the distant past, a young female Minbari soldier shivered at her post on board the Ingata, wondering if the nearness of the enemy Shadows had caused her sudden thrill, or something more powerful.

No, fate was real, she decided. There was something implacable about the wave that had just washed over her. There was a war coming, a terrible one, and her people needed guidance, a guidance she had failed to give once before in the dim past. What right did she have to try again when danger was most imminent? She sent her message to Sinclair off into the ether, her final decision to remain a first officer to whoever replaced him, if he or she would have her when she returned from the Yanazha.

An unexplained shudder wracked Felshenn's tall frame. If he had been Human, he would have burst into a sweat, but as it was, a strong feeling of destiny flooded his mind, distracting him, once again from the reports he was obviously not fated to finish. It was as though a hole had opened in the universe, and someone had slipped through the tunnel, pushing all time out of place for a moment. It was this backwash that he felt, this displacement. A strong image of a face haunted him, a Minbari male with a scar on his cheek, surrounded by holy beings. And he thought of Havah, though the association was disjointed. His hackles rose as he remembered the light in her eye as she described the igneous stone she had found, believing it came from her remote ancestor. Have religious delusions driven us all mad? She is mad, and now I am insane as well! I should not have brought her to that house. There are strange things there. It turns everyone who lingers into priests or soothsayers! He fingered the knot of hair he kept, and swallowed in uncertainty.

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