STILL NOT IN KANSAS

by Soledad

Author's notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc., see Part One.

For those unfamiliar with Voyager: Tom Paris, the chief helmsman, is known as a rather colourful personality, who also has a deep affection for Earth history. The EC (environmental collar) is actually an early Andrew Probert design for Star Trek – The Motion Picture. I'm not sure if it was ever realized or used, but it looks cool.

PART FOUR

Terminating the connection, Janeway looked around his senior officers. "Suggestions?"

"One," of course, his trusted friend Tuvok was the first to speak. "I would suggest you only take humans with you for this first meeting, Captain. Until we know more about this… situation, taking anyone else only would lead to unwanted conflicts or misunderstandings."

Janeway nodded. "Your logic is flawless as always, Mr. Tuvok. Whom of Security would you suggest to be part of the away team?"

"Lieutenant Ayala," Tuvok answered without hesitation. "He is experienced in unarmed combat, should the need arise – and he is sufficiently intimidating when he chooses to."

The ex-Maquis Ayala, a man of few words and many grim expressions, grinned behind his work station. He couldn't deny his curiosity – that he would be able to see this place right away and keep a protective eye on Chakotay pleased him.

"Very well," Janeway agreed. "Now, I'd like Ensign Kim to accompany us as well. We can't bring B'Elanna right now, but I trust Harry to get a good overall idea about the level of technology these people are using."

"Well, for starters, they don't seem to have transporter technology," B'Elanna added thoughtfully. "And considering the fact how closely related it is to replicators and holodecks, I'd risk to assume that they won't have those, either. Although one can never be sure, of course. Besides, there are dozens of alien races on that station. We can't even guess what they are capable of."

"Which is why I intend to bring Lieutenant Paris along," Janeway said with a wicked smile. "If anyone can look behind appearances, Tom certainly can. All that gambling has to have some useful consequences, after all."

"Why, thank you, Ma'am," Tom grinned back at her, pleased to be part of the new adventure.

"Besides," Janeway continued, "your excellent knowledge of Earth history might come handy during the negotiations. If this… this universe has anything in common with ours, you would be able to locate the point where our histories started to part ways and develop differently."

"I'll download the history files to my tricorder, just in case," Paris offered, suddenly serious again. "So, Captain, you and Chakotay, Ayala, Harry and me… who'll be the sixth person in our little group?"

"I'd prefer to take the Doctor with us, but I'm not sure whether there could be some radiation that plays havoc with his mobile emitter," Janeway admitted. "We need someone with medical knowledge, though."

"That would leave Kes and me," Paris said, "and since Kes' ears are rather… visible, she can't come with us anyway. That leaves me. I can take the necessary readings, Captain. The Doc has trained me well enough."

Janeway looked at the EMH. "Would we need any biohazard suits?"

The holographic doctor shook his head. "No, captain. However, I'll suggest environmental collars, until I get a chance to analyse the air for any airborne viruses or bacteria."

"We'll send you a sample as soon as possible," Janeway promised. "Now that we have solved the question of a medical expert, we still need a sixth member for our away team."

"What about Ensign Wildman?" Chakotay asked. "She's our best xenobiologist, and with all those alien species over there, she would be a valuable asset."

"A good idea," Janeway rose. "All away team members, call for replacement and meet me in twenty minutes in Main Shuttle bay – dress uniform is required. Doctor, check the ECs and provide Mr. Paris with an updated medical tricorder. Dismissed."

"Alyt, a shuttle is leaving the alien ship," Derval, a young warrior assigned to watch the ship and Babylon 5, reported to Neroon.

"That was fast," Neroon murmured, switching channels. "Rastenn, you are clear to launch."

"Understood," his nephew answered. "Initiating launch sequence… launching."

The Alota, Neroon's long, elegant main shuttle left the docking pad in an elegant curve and aimed the jumpgate.

"Ready to jump," Rastenn continued. "Activating jumpgate sequence… jumping."

John Sheridan hadn't taken the news very well… which was not surprising. He had gone through the same nerve-wracking events as Ivanova, with the significant difference that at the end he had the ultimate responsibility for everything that happened on Babylon 5. The fact that Delenn was still on Minbar didn't improve his mood either. He had come to depend on her wisdom and unique view of things, even if it sometimes drove him mad. But that was part of the appeal.

Now he was standing in the docking port, waiting for some unknown human beings to come through customs, with Ivanova and Marcus at his side – he drafted the Ranger with the argument that he needed someone who could at least partially think like a Minbari – and Garibaldi and a security detail, armed to the teeth, flanking them. And he was undeniably nervous. After all that he had experienced on Babylon 4, another unexpected and unexplained event was the last thing he wanted. But there was no way out – he had to 'face the music', and he had to do so without Delenn's support.

The newcomers began to file through the customs gate. First came a single young Minbari male, in plain clothes that Marcus identified as belonging to the Working Caste. He handled his ID-card to officer Lou Welch who checked it, then nodded and allowed the Minbari to pass. The Minbari walked by the security detail, without sparing them as much as a glance, and faded into the background.

After him, a few other visitors passed – Narn, Brakiri, Drazi and even a couple of Gaim – all without an incident. Sheridan gave them little to no attention. He was focussed on the last group of newcomers; the ones he had been waiting for.

The group of six humans wore something that seemed to be the dress uniform version of their brightly-coloured jumpsuits: black trousers and boots with asymmetrically-cut tunics in burgundy red, gold or deep blue. Also, each of them had a square collar of some soft, silver grey material akin to thermal blankets; it covered part of their chests, shoulders and backs, and from a small instrumental pad on the front left side a breathing tube led to transparent breathing masks that covered their mouths and noses. The masks had no visible fastenings, and Sheridan wondered what the heck was holding them in place.

The slender woman with the bun, whom he recognized from the recorded conversation as Captain Janeway, stepped forth.

"Greetings," she said. "I'm Captain Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager. Thanks for allowing us to come to your station. We…"

"Freeze!" a sudden shout interrupted him, and one of Garibaldi's men jumped forward, aiming his PPG at the tall, blond young man in Janeway's group, who held a small instrument in his hand… or was it a weapon? "Drop that at once."

"I'd rather not," the young man answered, his voice slightly muffled by the breathing mask. "Tricorders don't react well to hard contacts with metallic surfaces. This is sensitive equipment, you know."

"Wait," Sheridan stopped the security guard. Then he turned to the newcomer. "What exactly, did you say, is that instrument?"

"It's called a tricorder," the young man replied. "It is a combination of a scanner and a mini-computer. I'm currently analysing the air in your station for viruses, bacteria and other stuff that might be harmful for us, to see if we can take off these breathing masks. They aren't very comfortable, you know."

Sheridan suppressed a grin. "Are you a doctor?" he asked, rather doubtfully. There was an air of flippancy about the young man that didn't quite match a physician."

"Nah, I'm actually a pilot," the other said lightly. "But I also double as a med tech in times of dire need." He clapped his instrument together and looked at Janeway. "I'm finished, Captain. Will send the results to Doc at once; I suggest we leave the ECs until he says otherwise."

"ECs?" Ivanova repeated with a frown. The young man tapped his own collar.

"Environmental collars. These things here. They have built-in biofilters. We use them in unknown environments that don't require full biohazard suits. They serve your own protection as well as ours. Who knows what germs we could be carrying that might be perfectly harmless to ourselves but deadly to others."

"Is that the reason why you are wearing gloves as well?" Sheridan asked. The young man nodded.

"Yea, I'm afraid friendly handshakes have to wait. We might be all humans, but we come from very different environments – better safe than sorry."

"Agreed," Sheridan was actually thankful for the precautions these strange human beings had taken. "I guess we have much to discuss. Shall we move this to the conference room?"

"That would probably be a good idea," Janeway said. "I'd prefer to keep these things to ourselves, at least for the time being."

"Then follow us, please," Sheridan gestured to Ivanova to lead, and the six newcomers, flanked by Garibaldi's armed guards, marched away.

Hiding in the shadows, Rastenn followed them, cursing soundlessly under his breath. He had memorized the layout of Babylon 5 before the start of this mission (his photographic memory came handy in such cases), so he knew that the group was heading towards the Blue sector, to where he had little chance to follow them. Not to mention that his choice to actually infiltrate the conference room was nigh to nothing.

At least one thing was crystal clear from the awkward meeting at the docking port: Starkiller and his people had obviously no idea who the newcomers were. Not even that abomination of a human Anla'shok. He looked just as baffled as the rest of them.

Humans among the Anla'shok! Rastenn shook with anger by the mere thought of it. It had been bad enough that the rank of Entil'zha had been offered to a mere human, but at least Sinclair was a honourable man. Neroon himself said so, therefore it had to be true. The Alyt wasn't particularly found of humans, and if he paid respect to one of them, that individual had to be worthy. But the rest of them, contaminating an honourable institution, founded by Valen and entrusted to the Warrior Caste – that was an outrage.

So was the recently revealed conspiracy to deliver the Anla'shok into the hands of the Religious Caste. More precisely, into the hands of Delenn. The one who had broken Valen's order that had kept the peace on Minbar for a thousand years. Shai Alyt Shakiri was right. The balance of power had been upturned, and it was of utmost importance to re-establish it.

He was so deeply involved in his disturbing thoughts that he forgot to look where he went – and walked directly into something soft and warm. Looking up in annoyance, his eyes met that of a chubby and rather agitated young Centauri male who had obviously walked just as blindly as he did.

"My apologies," the Centauri said breathlessly. "It was my fault… I've got too much on my mind, always too much… I'm sorry, I have to run. Ambassador Mollari doesn't like if I'm late. Apologies again…"

Rastenn fought hard to keep up the appearance of a meek Worker Caste member, instead of breaking the Centauri's nose. But the name of the Centauri ambassador hit a chord, and after a second, good look at the young Centauri recognition hit him.

"Ambassador Coto?" he asked. Indeed, this was the young Centauri who used to run the Centauri Embassy on Minbar – until he got recalled, all of a sudden. He was not truly an ambassador, of course, just a temporary attaché, but addressing a Centauri by a title higher than he actually wore always paid off.

Vir Coto blinked a few times like a startled bird. "Do I know you?" He couldn't remember this particular Minbari, but again, he had never been very good at remembering faces.

Rastenn shook his head, allowing himself a thin smile. "No, I do not think so. But I do remember you, Ambassador. I used to work for the Centauri Embassy for a short time."

Well, in a sense, that was even true. He was assigned to spy on the personnel of the Centauri Embassy for a while – even on Vir Coto himself.

"Oh… I see…" Vir blinked nervously again. "Look, I… I'd like to talk about old times, but I really, really have to go now. Ambassador Mollari is most upset that he hasn't been informed about these… these new humans, and…"

"Maybe later?" Rastenn offered, realizing the wonderful opportunity to find out a great deal about all that was happening on a diplomatic level, without taking any risks.

"Later?" Vir hesitated a little, but his deep craving for company finally won over his caution. He had loved his position on Minbar, and unlike most Centauri, he could go along with the Minbari rather well. "Later is good. I… I usually have a drink on the Zocalo, shortly before station night. There… there is a little bar next to.."

Rastenn interrupted him with a raised hand. "I will find you, Ambassador. Don't worry."

"I'm not an ambassador," the young Centauri replied with disarming openness. "I've never been one, and you know that. There's no need to give me titles I don't deserve. Just… just call me Vir. That'd be enough."

"As you wish… Vir," Rastenn didn't offer his own name in exchange. That could wait. "You should go now. I'm told that Ambassador Mollari has quite a temper."

"Sometimes," Vir shifted his weight awkwardly, "but he's not a bad person. Not really. I… I must go now…"

He stormed away, leaving Rastenn behind in a rather… thoughtful mood. The young Star Rider continued his way to the nearest stop of the core shuttle. He needed to go to the Red sector and try to find some work. He needed that disguise in case he had to stay on Babylon 5 for an extended amount of time.

Things developed nicely for him. Now he'd have access to diplomatic information – if only he played the young Centauri attaché well. It didn't seem too hard, considering how naïve Vir Coto was known to be. Still, Rastenn asked himself if it was any honour in using someone like this. After all, Vir Coto had always been friendly with the Minbari, and seemed genuinely willing to make friends with him.

But he had no choice in this. The needs of Minbar were more important than anything else. Even the honour of a Minbari warrior.

TBC