STILL NOT IN KANSAS
by Soledad
Author's notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc., see Part One.
I've been thinking of the original reason of male Minbari having such a dangerous-looking, sharply-pointed bonecrest, and came to the conclusion that way back, in primitive times, they could have used it in a fight, like deer and other similar creatures do with their antlers. The "glass chin" of the Minbari is my invention, too.
I decided to end this chapter at this particular point, as it otherwise would have grown much too long again. This way the story might spawn one more chapters than originally intended, but it would keep a clear structure.
Some of the dialogue is directly taken from the episode "Grey 17 Is Missing".
PART TEN
In one thing Chakotay had been right: Tom Paris did, indeed, pull out his "Admiral's son" persona and was irritable like hell. It didn't happen to him very often in these days, but right now he felt that Chakotay had treated him unfairly – and he had been beyond accepting unfair treatment without protest for quite some time. Truth be told, the other members of the previous day's shore leave team tended to agree with him, and so did other people.
"Chakotay did what?" Lt. Ayala couldn't believe his ears. Granted, he knew that on a bad day Chakotay could be downright mean, but that used to be a rare thing, and never without a good reason.
"He chewed me out in front of a bunch of complete strangers," Paris repeated angrily; they were sitting in the mess hall, ignoring whatever it was that Neelix had found appropriate to serve them. "You would think that after three years he would stop seeing the troublemaker in me," Tom continued, warming up to a really long, involved rant. "You would think that after all we had been through together, he'd have a little more… sophisticated opinion about me."
Harry laughed. "You would think that after three years people would stop seeing the naïve, inexperienced kid in me," he pointed out god-naturedly. "Well, they don't. Not even you do, and you are my closest friend. I guess, if we don't get home soon, people would still pat my shoulder encouragingly while I'm dying from old age."
"And women would still kiss you on the cheek, telling you how cute you are, instead of dating you," Paris grinned, feeling a little better. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Exactly. We've been living in this small community for so long, people have kinda become settled in their opinions."
"Chakotay was still way out of line," Megan Delaney said, frowning. "I don't know what's bothering him, but whatever it is, he didn't need to take it out on us."
"It was probably just some high-and-holy Starfleet directive about respecting the laws of the natives," Ken Dalby growled. Torres patted him on the back.
"Calm down, Ken. Chakotay usually knows what he does. Even though I still might kill him for embarrassing us in front of all those strangers."
"Or it's just that your timing was lousy," Samantha Wildman walked to their table with a plate of indefinable – and startlingly trembling – green mass of food and sat down next to Torres. "I invest an awful lot of sweat in getting him a date, and you choose to get in trouble in the moment he actually begins to enjoy himself."
For a moment, there was shocked silence. Chakotay having a date was something most of them simply couldn't imagine. Despite the often rather explicit discussions about what might have happened between him and the captain back on New Earth. Despite his assumed love affair with Kellin, the elusive Rumaran tracer, whose existence nobody was able to believe completely, due to the neurolytic emitter the aliens used on them to make them forget the whole encounter. Chakotay just wasn't the person they could imagine going on a date.
It was B'Elanna who finally broke the stunned silence. "I don't believe Chakotay would be that petty," she said, shaking her head. Sam Wildman sighed, poking her food with a fork, not completely sure it wouldn't attack her.
"Not petty, B'Elanna. Frustrated. And your reaction showed clearly enough why. You all see him as some sort of rock in the storm; as if he wasn't just another human being. Granted, he probably has even less private life than the captain – that's something he obviously accepted, together with the job of the XO. But it doesn't mean that he likes it. Even the first officer of a starship can be lonely. Being here might be the best opportunity for him to relax a little and to have some company."
"And we managed to mess up the first date he has had in ages," B'Elanna murmured ruefully. "Whom did you set him up with?"
Sam grinned at her wickedly. "You don't really expect me to tell, do you?"
In the meantime, the big triumvirate of Voyager's senior staff – namely Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay and Lt. Cmdr. Tuvok – was discussing their situation in the captain's ready room. With the ship lying in drydock, they could afford to leave the bridge to Lt. Rollins for a while.
"I've been invited to visit the station and meet Ambassador Delenn," Janeway said. "According to what we have learned from the situation of this universe so far, the Minbari seem to play a pivotal role in the events… have done so for more than a decade and a half. So, I believe that establishing diplomatic relations – or semi-diplomatic ones, since we are only one ship and still intend to get back to where we came from – with the Minbari could be important for us."
"I quite agree," Tuvok nodded. "Beyond that, the Minbari seem like a fascinating species – and a rather ancient one. I would very much like to study their culture."
"You are welcome to join me, of course," Janeway smiled. "Unless, of course, Commander Chakotay wants to pull rank. He is our resident anthropologist, after all."
Chakotay shook his head, smiling back at her. "No, Captain, I'd prefer to stay here this time. I've got a depressingly huge pile of reports to catch up with – and preparations to make for a romantic dinner."
Janeway's eyes lit up like the warp core at full speed. She was a hopeless romantic, even though in these days her involvement was limited to watching other people's love life. "So, you gathered your courage and invited her? And she said yes?"
Stealing a glance at Tuvok's expressionless face that radiated disapproval nevertheless – not about the fact that the first officer had a date but about the fact that they were discussing private matters in his presence – Chakotay grinned in delight.
"Yes and yes, Captain in both points. You know, it's silly at my age, but I haven't been so excited about something so small like a date for years."
"Considering our respective love lives in the Delta Quadrant, it is not surprising," Janeway commented wryly. "So, where are you going? The resort? Sandrine's? Your quarters?"
"Sandrine's for starters," Chakotay shrugged. "This is just a first date. I'm not that desperate, you know."
Before they could continue this particular discussion, Tuvok rose stiffly from his seat. "I believe, from this point on my presence is not required," he said, trying to look less uncomfortable than he felt. "I will be ready whenever you comm me, Captain. Until then, I shall retire to my quarters and prepare myself for the meeting with Ambassador Delenn."
"Sure, Tuvok, whatever you want," Janeway nodded absent-mindedly, and when the Vulcan left, she leaned forward in her seat. "So, Chakotay. Tell me more about her."
Rastenn left his uncle and Nidell behind in the meeting place and turned his attention to the not entirely easy task of reaching his shuttle without being spotted – either by Delenn's people or by certain human groups that resided in Down Below. For although Sheridan had managed to get rid most of the agents planted there by the EarthGov organization Nightwatch shortly after the attempted assassination of Delenn, there was no way to know how many of them were still lurking among the homeless, playing with their angry feelings, turning them against the station commander and his allies. Including the Minbari.
Especially against the Minbari. Despite the war being over for a decade and a half by now, there still were old wounds festering, old grudges lingering, on both sides. Rastenn was no fool. He knew that as the Warrior Caste was unable to forget and forgive, there had to be fractions among the humans as well who weren't. And the current Earth government nurtured that old hatred rather efficiently. Several attacks against the members of Rastenn's own clan on Babylon 5 in the recent months had proved that.
They hadn't informed Delenn about those attacks, of course. The Warrior Caste was used to solving its own problems. The attackers had been dealt with. But the Star Riders had also lost one of their own, and there was no way to know how many more of those human assassins were still hiding in the dark corners of Down Below.
Barely had he crossed two corridors, when Rastenn could feel that he was being followed. Their too-frequent meetings had apparently been noticed, and someone now wanted to learn more. His enemies were very skilled, he had to give them that, but Rastenn was a warrior, specifically trained for covert operations, his senses very sharp, even for a Minbari, and he also possessed a special sense of danger. Many warriors of his clan did; that was a useful ability, but nothing extraordinary.
He quickly recalled the layout of Down Below to decide where would be the best place to confront his enemies. There was no really good place for a fight against multiple attackers, all rooms on this lever being rather dark and cramped. He wouldn't have enough space to swing his denn'bok efficiently. Which meant he had to refer to his knife.
Rastenn didn't want to kill any of his attackers – not out of mercy, simply because that would have drawn too much attention at a time where he should have kept a low profile – but he didn't really have any other options. Given enough space to move around, he could have disabled them with his denn'bok and leave them behind, injured but alive. Yet crowded like he was down here, he had to make quick and dirty work of them.
They were catching up with him quickly, he could feel it rather than hear. Rastenn shed his cloak quickly, not wanting to give the attackers any advantage, threw it into the shadows and stepped back into a barely-lit corner himself, waiting with the practice of a born predator.
He didn't have to wait long. Barely a minute later, four humans of various ages and sizes but wearing similarly cheap and dirty clothes, appeared in the archway, almost noiselessly. Their ill-groomed appearance was misleading, however. They moved with the ease of well-trained soldiers and very obviously knew what they were doing. They were hunters.
Rastenn eyed them warily. A less experienced warrior would probably have picked the burly man at their rear, judging him to be the most dangerous adversary. But Rastenn knew better. The big man was just muscle. He could deal with muscle; Minbari were by default stronger than the average human, and Rastenn had been specially trained to fight them in hand-to-hand combat by Neroon himself. He had to meet a human yet who would be his even match in sheer strength.
No, the real danger came from the man in the middle of the group. This one was medium-built, wiry but well muscled, and most likely very fast. And he had eyes like a reptile: cold, unblinking, calculating. Yes, this one was the mind behind the action – the one Rastenn needed to take out first.
To that end, however, he had to remove at least one of the other humans who flanked the pack leader closely. The young Minbari took a deep breath and extended his denn'bok. He knew the humans would recognize the sound – they were old enough to have had fought in the Earth-Minbari war, and they were very obviously professionals, so they would know it – but he hoped to land at least one clean, effective blow.
He moved quickly and lightly, like a hunting gok, leaping out of the shadows and crashing one end of his pike down onto the skull of the nearest human with brutal force. The thug went out like a light, without even knowing what had hit him, but in the same moment Rastenn had to drop to the floor and roll out of the firing line of three PPGs, drawn and aimed by the humans at amazing speed.
He felt searing pain in his left shoulder – a stray shot had hit him after all – and rolled over one more time, ignoring it and throwing the thin-bladed ceremonial knife with a barely visible switch of his wrist. It embedded itself into the pack leader's chest to the hilt. It was a sacrilege, of course, using the knife for such mundane purpose, but Rastenn couldn't be choosy in that moment.
The pack leader went down with a thud but wasn't dead yet. In fact, he was still conscious enough to give his remaining two men some short, coded commands. This distracted Rastenn for a moment. Only for a moment, but it was enough for the burly man to grab him from behind and take him in a choking head-lock, pressing a thick arm against his sensitive throat, while the other one prepared himself for the fatal blow. Very few humans had ever learnt how vulnerable a Minbari's chin and throat could be – these here obviously belonged to that minority.
Rastenn's whole life hung now on a thin thread, so he had to act very quickly. He kicked the shin of his capturer with all his considerable strength, distracting the big man from his true goal. At the same time he snapped his head sideways with a slashing move, severing the major blood vessels of the man with the sharp spikes of his bonecrest simultaneously.
The grip on his throat loosened, and Rastenn threw himself forward, tossing his capturer against the only human still on his feet. At this moment he could have simply escaped, but he was too mad now to let his attackers get away. Besides, he wanted his ceremonial knife back.
Two of the men were stirring already – they must have very hard skulls; not hard enough to enable them to do any real harm, but Rastenn was not taking any chances. Reaching for the denn'bok that he had dropped in the melee, he whirled around like a vengeful spirit, dealing bone-crushing bows all around himself. After the second pirouette, all four men were lying motionlessly again, bleeding all over the place, some of them most likely dead. Rastenn panted heavily, trying to keep the battle madness at bay.
For a moment, he stood in the middle of his own private battlefield, thinking of various ways to escape from the station. First of all, he needed to clean himself. His bonecrest and his hands were covered with blood, and there were splatters on his clothes, too. There was no way he could get to the docking bay unnoticed. Not in this shape.
Obviously, he couldn't turn to any other Minbari for help – it would discredit his whole Clan, and Delenn's people wouldn't be eager to assist him. There was only one way out. Through the hidden maintenance tunnels, he could get to the diplomatic section. One of those tunnels just happened to end right next to Vir Cotto's quarters.
Rastenn retrieved his knife from the dead body of his enemy, covered his bloodied head and clothes with the hooded cloak and moved on.
At 1400, station time, Captain Janeway and Tuvok left Voyager to meet Lennier, who was supposed to escort them to Delenn's quarters. The two officers wore their dress uniforms, as this was a first contact situation with the official representative of a major alien race. Kes, however, who accompanied them at Delenn's request, wore her usual clothes –not as short and child-like ones as in her first years on Voyager, as she was officially an adult now, but simple and comfortable ones that still made her look like the Flower Fairy. Especially since she'd had decided to have a haircut right before they ended up in this universe, and the short hair made her uniqely-shaped ears very visible again.
Lennier was already waiting for them in Bay 13 and greeted the two officers with a ceremonial bow, pressing his thumbs together in the process. He seemed a little unsure how he should greet Kes – a civilian who looked like a little girl but was said to have defeated a Vorlon – so he simply blushed and murmured something unintelligible. Although he had grown out of his initial shyness in the recent years, new situations and unknown factors still tended to confuse him a little.
Done with the official greetings, Lennier led them to the core shuttle, and they took a ride to the diplomatic sector. Kes enjoyed it very much, saying that the station reminded her of the subterranean city of her own people, and watched the gardens through the shuttle windows in delight.
Reaching their destination, they left the shuttle and Lennier gestured them to enter the corridor that led to the quarters of the Minbari diplomatic staff – that included Delenn's quarters, Lennier's own, and a few of their co-workers. They were just about to step out into the main corridor when Lennier suddenly stopped and gestured to them to be quiet. They made a halt and listened to the voices coming from before them.
Not far from their position, two Minbari were arguing, according to the universal translator that always identified the language spoken before starting to translate. The highly sophisticated machine only needed a few sentences to click in, so the Starfleet officers and Kes could get almost the whole confrontation.
"A brilliant strategy, Delenn," a deep voice was saying, dripping with sarcasm. "I've not thought you capable of such ambition, but clearly, I was mistaken."
"What are you talking about?" another voice, that of the woman, asked in obvious confusion.
"The Anla'shok are commissioned after a thousand years in silence," the voice of the man replied grimly. "The Religious Caste begins constructing new warships, without the knowledge or consent of the Warrior Caste…"
Slowly, absolutely noiselessly, Tuvok made a few steps forward. Just a few, so that he could peer around the bulkhead that shielded him from sight. He saw the tall, forbidding figure of a black-clad Minbari male, whom his analytical mind recognized from visual material that he had studied earlier, staring down at a slender woman – according to the vids shown to them, she had to be Ambassador Delenn.
"You chose not to act," the woman said, clearly angry now. "Someone had to."
"Perhaps," the male Minbari bowed his head in mock respect. "But that is why we let you have them in the beginning. Even allowed Sinclair to train them. Even though it meant diluting the purity by allowing humans alongside out own people."
Tuvok shook his head mutely. He of all people knew all too well how alluring – and how very wrong – this attitude was towards humans. There had been a time when he even shared it. But he had belonged to a minority, even then, and had he allowed himself to have such illogical emotions, he'd have been saddened by finding such ignorance by another supposedly enlightened culture.
"We have been quite tolerant to your activities," the black-clad Minbari continued with an arrogance that spoke of sufficient power and authority on his side. But now that their training is complete, they require new leadership. By right of tradition, the Warrior Caste should be given command of the Anla'shok." The dark eyes of the warrior grew cold like ice. "That was the rule, set down by Valen. Three Castes: Worker, Religious, Warrior. They build. You pray. We fight."
In the neutral light of logic this seemed a sensible arrangement to Tuvok. But he had the feeling that there were more things involved that he didn't know yet, and the next words of the ambassador affirmed that.
"You violated that rule when the Warrior Caste became dominant in the Grey Council," she riposted, just as icily.
The warrior gave her a quirky little smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. It was not a pleasant sight. "But the Grey Council does no longer exist," he said softly. "You dispended it. So, what do we have now, Delenn? You have undergone a transformation, promised by Valen, broken the Council and created a vacuum of power. And now, as an eminent leader of the Religious Caste, you plan to take over a military force and fill that vacuum yourself."
The accusation sounded serious. Both Janeway and Tuvok looked at Lennier questioningly, but the young priest only shook his head in horror. It seemed that the accusation was false – or, at least, Lennier didn't believe it.
"I have no desire to rule our people, " Delenn said, her voice suddenly tired.
The warrior glanced at her in an oddly sympathetic manner. "I wish I could believe you, Delenn – but I don't. A religious zealot, propelled by prophecy into military and political power?" he barked a short, unpleasant laugh. "Always a bad idea. Out of respect, I will give you the opportunity to walk away from the path that you have taken. Refuse the position of Entil'zha and turn control of the Anla'shok over to the Warrior Caste – where it belongs."
In Tuvok's opinion, that would have been a logical choice to avoid severe confrontation among the Minbari. But Ambassador Delenn was apparently just as stubborn as Captain Janeway could be on one of her worse days.
"Or…?" she asked coldly. The warrior's face hardened even more.
"I am sworn to stop you, Delenn," he replied with a thinly veiled threat in his voice. "By any and all means necessary."
The threat was the last straw for Lennier's self-control. Forgetting the visitors he was meant to escort, forgetting all caution, he lunged forth to protect his mentor.
"Delenn!" he cried out anxiously.
The ambassador whirled around, forgetting her adversary for a moment. "Lennier, what are you doing here? Have I not given you orders to…?"
"The guests are here," Lennier interrupted her. "And they are safe. But you…"
Delenn glanced back over her shoulder, but the warrior was already gone. Well, that was not surprising. They left him out of sight just long enough to withdraw, unnoticed.
"Lennier," she said patiently, "we will not discuss this here, in the open corridor. Let us all retire to my quarters and have a civilized conversation. That is, if you do not mind, Captain," she added, looking at Janeway questioningly.
"Of course not," the captain of Voyager replied. "In fact, I'm quite eager to learn what is behind all this. And I'm sure Mr. Tuvok here would admit a certain… scientific curiosity as well."
"Then it shall be done," Delenn bowed and gestured her with a smile to follow.
TBC