STILL NOT IN KANSAS

by Soledad

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

Apologies to the defenders of the Erogenous Minbari Bonecrest theory – since I've made the crest a weapon, it wouldn't do any good if it were sensitive to the touch.

Some of the dialogue, as before, is directly taken from the episode "Grey 17 Is Missing".

PART 11

After a long and rather unnerving conference with Londo, Vir finally returned to his quarters. Things did not look promising for Ambassador Mollari; it seemed that the fraction represented by Lord Refa was gaining strength and Londo's supporters were slowly but steadily pushed into the background. The only thing that could have helped was some spectacular progress with these strange new humans, but so far they hadn't even managed to establish contact.

Vir had called Voyager several times on Londo's behalf. Every time, his calls were answered by the enigmatic First Officer with the name of Chakotay. The big man had listened to him patiently, even showed some sympathy for his stress, but the answer was always the same: Captain Janeway was currently busy, but would contact Ambassador Mollari as soon as she was available.

Londo had gone ballistic every time, of course. Too much depended on his small chance of success to take those repeated rejections kindly. The fact that the Minbari had already managed to organize a meeting between Ambassador Delenn and Captain Janeway – even though an informal one – only made Londo even more mad. He ranted for an hour or so, and Vir began to grow tired of the whole thing. He had his own problems to think of, right now. And he missed the peaceful life on Minbar. Even though he had taken great risks to secretly save all those Narns, life on the Embassy was safer. And definitely more pleasant.

He sighed and opened his door with the key card. It was dark in there, but he didn't feel like calling for lights. All he wanted was to sit a while in the darkness and think. He put down his jacket and headed for his kitchenette to make some tea. He grew fond of drinking tea during his time on Minbar, and the barely glooming direction lights over there were enough for him to perform such an easy task.

That was when he felt the presence of another person in his living room.

Janeway found Delenn's quarters simple but elegant. They did look a little dark – all personal quarters on Babylon 5 did, for some strange reason – but the white-screened lamps, attached to the sidewalls in some unknown pattern, balanced it out nicely, and the semi-transparent crystal screens before some of the dull metal walls gave the place an ethereal and otherworldly air. So did the crystal spiral of small chimes hanging above the table.

They were seated on cushions around the table in Minbari fashion, which didn't seem to bother the visitors at all, so that Lennier could begin serving the traditional Minbari meal. Unlike the first dinner Sheridan had been invited to a year ago, this didn't contain any ritually prepared food. Those would have demanded Lennier to perform a two-day cooking ritual, including fasting. They hadn't had the time for that, but since this was an informal lunch, there was no need for any particular ceremonies to be perform.

The guests tasted the food, and while it drove tears into Janeway's eyes, Tuvok's entire reaction was a raised eyebrow, as always.

"It is rather… spicy," he commented, while Kes, still very fond of spices after the bland food the Caretaker had provided her people, ate with obvious delight. Besides, after surviving Neelix' flamboyant cooking for three years, Voyager's crew had become rather hardened when it came to spicy food.

"Minbari cuisine is considered bland by many other races," Delenn said, smiling, "but that is only true for flarn and other ritual dishes. As you can see for yourself, high cuisine can be quite… colourful."

"Indeed," Tuvok politely suppressed a cough; Vulcans were stoically resistant, but he felt as if his entire mouth was in fire. "I am certain that Mr. Neelix would be excited by the experience."

"Who is there?" Vir asked quietly, too frightened to call for lights. The fact that someone was able to break into his quarters was most upsetting. It either meant that he had been spied upon for quite some time, or that that someone was capable of overriding the most sophisticated security codes, provided for diplomatic personnel only. He couldn't quite decide which was the more disturbing thought.

"There is no need to fear," the familiar voice of Rastenn answered. "It's only me."

"Which is bad enough, I am told," Vir riposted. "Would you care to tell me how you got into my quarters – and, more importantly, why?"

"I know my way around computers," Rastenn said. "And I came here because I need your help."

"My help. After having lied to me and used me for your own purposes, whatever those might be, you want my help," for some reason, Vir found the thought hysterically funny. Maybe his nerves were finally breaking down.

Rastenn sighed. "I see you had time to talk to Lennier," was all he answered.

"Is it true?" Vir asked, suddenly very eager to know. "Are you really Warrior Caste and here to spy on your uncle's behalf?"

"More or less," Rastenn replied. "I do have roots in the Worker Caste as well – my father is Worker Caste. I chose to be a warrior. And yes, I am here to gather intelligence for my uncle. There is no shame in that."

"No," Vir agreed; politics were politics. "But it is a shameful thing to pretend friendship and to lie to the one who accepts it because he is offered friendship too rarely to reject."

Rastenn sighed again. "I know," he admitted softly. "And I am sorry, Vir. I never wanted to lie to you, but I was not allowed to tell the truth. Though, in fact, I have begun to enjoy our conversations. I would have liked to become your friend."

"I wish I could believe you," Vir answered sadly. "But I'm afraid I cannot."

"That is understandable," Rastenn answered. "I do not expect you to trust me again, even though I regret that things have taken such an unfortunate turn. But I still need your help, because on this entire station you are the only one I can ask for help."

Vir hesitated a little. Lennier's revelations had hurt badly – he, too, had begun to grow fond of Rastenn – but he could feel that the young Minbari was deadly serious, and most likely in bad trouble. And Vir Cotto was not the person to turn his back on someone who needed his help.

"Are you in trouble?" he asked tentatively.

Rastenn actually laughed at that – but without mirth. "Call for lights, and you will see," he replied, still chuckling.

"I would never believe that Neroon would actually threaten you, had I not heard it by my own ears!" Delenn and her guests had finished lunch and were now discussing the recent confrontation between her and the determined warrior – an event that made Lennier most visibly upset. "He is a member of the Grey Council!

"Was," Delenn emphasized with a sigh. "The Council is no more – he can do as he sees fit."

"Excuse me," Janeway raised a hand. "We've been given some information about the Minbari caste system, but would you mind to tell me something about that Grey Council? From the way you keep mentioning it, I believe it is an institution of great importance."

In the next ten minutes, Delenn and Lennier gave their guests a crash course on the last thousand years of Minbari history – including the Grey Council's role in keeping the peace between the various clans and castes.

"This should come as no surprise," Delenn added, turning the conversation back to its original topic. "We knew the Warrior Caste was unhappy with our activities."

"Unhappy?" Lennier repeated, too upset to keep his voice low. "Delenn, he is planning to kill you!"

"That is one interpretation," Delenn replied, her jaw set stubbornly. Lennier rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"He said he would use any and all means necessary," he pointed out. "I respectfully suggest that he intends to go far beyond harsh language."

"Lennier is right," Kes said quietly. "I have only caught a glimpse of this… this warrior's emotions – his shielding is surprisingly good for a non-telepath – but I'm certain that he is willing to do anything to reach his goal."

Delenn shook her head. "Impossible. No Minbari has killed another for a thousand years."

"Yes," Lennier agreed. "But if the Grey Council is gone and the rules have changed – what else has changed?"

"He does have a point," Janeway warned Delenn. "You can't count on these rules anymore, no matter how well they have worked in the past. You should ask Captain Sheridan for protection."

"I quite agree," Lennier said, glad to have found some allies. "You should tell the captain about this, at the very least."

"No!" Delenn prompted. "This is an internal problem, Lennier, and if we can't handle it on our own, then we should not be here." Lennier tried to protest, but she silenced him with a stern look. "So. I want your world that you will not tell him about this. Or anyone else under his command."

"Delenn, I..." Lennier still wasn't fully convinced, but neither was Delenn in the mood for arguing.

"Your. Word," she repeated in a steely voice, and when Lennier finally broke and bowed obediently, she turned to her guests with a smile that could have charmed off a Klingon's favourite mek'leth from his belt. "I must ask you, too, to handle this problem with he utmost discretion."

"Of course," Janeway nodded, even though she didn't agree. "It's not allowed us to interfere with the internal matters of other people. We can, however, offer our help, if requested. Mr. Tuvok's security team is very well-trained, and…"

"No," Delenn said, determined. "Thank you for the offer, but as I already said, this is something that we have to deal with among ourselves."

Janeway shrugged. "It's your choice, Ambassador. Although I still think you are making a mistake."

"Perhaps," Delenn replied. "But as you correctly said, it is my mistake to make. Now, Captain Sheridan will arrive shortly. I suggest we change the topic, so that we do not rouse his suspicions."

The others respected her wish. The conversation turned to matters of the Federation, for which Delenn showed great interest. Lennier, however, was worried and could not truly listen. His only concern was Delenn's safety now, and he had the glum feeling that he wouldn't be able to protect her from Neroon. Not long enough anyway. Not until her initiation was completed.

But there was little he could do. Well-trained as he might have been, at least according to the measures of the Religious Caste, he could never stop a fierce warrior like Neroon, twice his age and his strength. There were few people on Babylon 5 who could at least hope to delay Neroon long enough. And Delenn had forbidden telling anyone in Sheridan's chain of command.

Then you will have to find someone outside the chain of command, a gentle mental voice said.

Glancing up in mild shock, Lennier met the friendly blue eyes of Kes, who was looking at him encouragingly.

"Would you just sit still and let me clean this… this bone of yours?!" Vir was growing irritated. After Rastenn had told him about the attack in Down Below, he cleaned the wound on the Minbari's shoulder and allowed him to use his shower and the dry cleaner unit for his clothes. Now Rastenn was sitting in his small living room and Vir tried to remove the dried blood from the ridges of the Minbari's bonecrest.

It was delicate work, as some of the ridges were surprisingly deep and narrow, and Vir had tried several utensils until a wet hairbrush proved to be the right solution. But it took time, and patience wasn't Rastenn's major virtue. He was eager to get back to the Alota before Sheridan learned about his identity and decided to hunt him down, just to protect Delenn.

"Rastenn, stop wriggling!" Vir said, exasperated. "I'll never finish at this rate; and I might hurt you when my hand slips."

"Hurt me, how?" Rastenn laughed. "Vir, it's a bone; a protective bone at that, and occasionally even a weapon. I don't have nerves in my bonecrest, nor any feelings in it."

"You mean it isn't… erm… sensitive to… erm… to certain kinds of… of stimulation?" Vir felt his face heating and had no doubts that he was coloured deep purple by now. But Rastenn understood what he meant nevertheless – and laughed so hard that he nearly fell from the chair.

"You must have seen too many porn vids made by humans," he said, finally calming down again. "No, it is not sensitive in any way. Sure, we feel it to a certain degree, the same way you feel your teeth, but that is all. I hope you are not too disappointed."

"Of course not," Vir felt decidedly uncomfortable. "Could we… could we not have this conversation, please?"

"I am sorry," Rastenn turned serious again. "It was not my intention to make fun of you. It is just… I have heard that theory once too often, I guess."

"All right," Vir sighed in defeat. "Let me finish this job here, and then we'll try to get you out of here unnoticed… if it's possible at all."

"You do not need to do anything complicated," Rastenn assured him. "Just walk with me through the diplomatic section. People are so used to see you with various Minbari, they will not suspect anything. All we need to do is to avoid running into Delenn or Lennier."

"That is rather unlikely," Vir said. "Ambassador Delenn is hosting Captain Janeway and two of her people right now. Lennier is most likely occupied with domestic duties."

He finished cleaning Rastenn's bonecrest. There still were a few places that he couldn't reach, not even with the brush, but these were too deep to draw any attention. The dry cleaner was done with the Minbari's clothes, too, and Rastenn quickly dressed again, hiding his face under the hood of his cloak.

"We can go," he said. "And one more thing: I, my family and my clan are in your debt now, Vir Cotto. This is a debt you are free to collect any time you want. I might have ruined my chances to gain your friendship, but I would never break my word, given to you."

Lillian Hobbs couldn't remember the last time she had worn a dress. Not a fancy one, not one of those sinfully expensive designer models – she never had the money for something like that, and even if she had, she'd never waste her credits that way – just a simple, average, down-to-earth dress in which she could feel like a woman again. Sometimes she felt as if she hadn't worn anything but medical gowns for years. Which, actually, was depressingly close to the truth.

But this evening was different. Not only did she have her first real date for ages, but she was also about to get introduced to the wonders of Voyager – and she was looking forward to it very much. Sam Wildman's stories and Marcus' enthusing about the holodeck had made her very curious. Besides, being concerned about something as mundane as what to wear for a date, was more than welcome after all that stress in the recent weeks.

She opened the door of her closet and critically surveyed the dresses hanging in there – all four of them. She rejected the idea of wearing black at once… it would have been overkill for a first date. The deep burgundy red evening dress that she had bought years ago for her graduation wouldn't do, either. It was pretty, but too provocative. That left her with two choices, white or pale yellow. She chose the yellow one. It harmonized nicely with her own dark complexion and had a comfortably loose cut.

"The time is fourteen-twenty-five," the computer warned her.

Lillian swore in French, as always when in stress. For some reason, she found that comforting. Maybe because the language reminded her of her grandparents who had raised her. But she really had to hurry up now. One last glance into the mirror – everything looked just like it should be – and she stormed out of her quarters, hoping that her date won't be too mad for her being late.

Chakotay, wearing a casual, light-coloured suit that made him look even more dashing, had come to meet her at the entrance of the docking bay. To her relief, he didn't seem mad at all.

"I'm sorry," Lillian apologized, rather out of breath. "I didn't mean to be late. It's a horrible thing with me – I'm punctual like a computer at work but don't seem to be able on time privately. Ever."

"That's all right," Chakotay gave her one of those dimpled smiles that should have been registered as deadly weapons. "You are not that late; I've only arrived five minutes ago. Besides, there is no need to hurry. The holodeck won't go away – I have a reservation for three hours."

"Three hours?" Lillian repeated in surprise. "Isn't that a little long for a late lunch?"

"It depends," Chakotay replied, grinning. "You'll see that time seems to go very quickly on the holodeck. Shall we?"

He offered his arm in a gallant manner and Lillian accepted it, laughing. They walked back towards Voyager, neither of them noticing the young – and at the moment slightly agitated – aide of the Centauri ambassador walking by in the company of a Minbari who was wearing the plain, hooded cloak of the Worker Caste, heading to the docking ports of the merchant vessels.

And even if they had, they wouldn't have paid the two any attention.

TBC