STILL NOT IN KANSAS
by Soledad
Author's notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc., see Part One.
Some of the dialogue, as before, is directly taken from the episode "Grey 17 Is Missing".
My apologies for the slow update: my muse abandoned me for a while.
PART NINETEENVoyager – Captain's Quarters
Captain Janeway spent a sleepless night in her quarters. After having thoroughly investigated both Tuvok and Ayala, she just sat in her darkened living-room for hours, wondering just how things could have spun out of control so quickly. When the stimulated morning arrived, she still didn't have a satisfying answer.
She was contemplating the choice to go to the Mess Hall and give Neelix' cooking another try (although, after more than three years, she'd all but given up on the chance to find there anything that'd actually be palatable) against spending some rations on a replicated breakfast. Neither choice seemed particularly attractive at the moment. Hell, not even coffee sounded attractive!
Which was a very bad sign indeed.
The beeping of the comm system spared her the decision – as so many times before.
"Captain," the voice of Harry Kim said – did the kid never sleep? " There's a call for you, from Captain Sheridan. Should I dispatch it to your quarters?"
"Please, do," Janeway replied, switching on her small screen.
Sheridan seemed nervous… almost afraid.
"Sorry to bother you at this time, Captain," he said, "I've just read Garibaldi's report, and… I think we should talk. Privately. And I mean privately."
Janeway nodded in understanding. After Garibaldi and Ayala's discovery, Sheridan couldn't know if there were any safe places on Babylon 5. Aside from Voyager, that is.
"Let's meet here, then," she suggested. "When could you come over?"
"Whenever you want me to," Sheridan tried to hide his desperate eagerness, but he didn't quite manage. "Ivanova has pretty much everything under control here,"
Janeway thought about it for a moment.
"What about half an hour?" she then asked. "I need to take a quick look at the reports and put someone in charge of the bridge, but after that…"
"Half an hour is good," Sheridan said. "Can you arrange for Commander Chakotay and Mr. Ayala to be present as well? And we could use Lyta's insight, in case she feels up to it."
"I'll check that with Mr. Tuvok," Janeway promised. "The others will be there in any case… though with that many people we might need the conference room. I'll arrange everything. Janeway out."
She broke the connection. Then she ordered a coffee from the replicator – she needed to be awake – called Chakotay and Ayala and contacted Tuvok to see how Lyta was doing.
"Ms Alexander is out of imminent danger," Tuvok informed her; as she suspected, the Vulcan had not left sickbay all night. "The enhancements in her system have apparently increased her healing ability by at least 42.6 per cent. The Doctor predicts a complete recovery in approximately 4.17 days."
"Is she well enough to attend a meeting I'm going to have with Captain Sheridan in twenty minutes?" Janeway asked.
"I do believe so," the Vulcan replied. "I shall escort her to the conference room personally."
"Very well," Janeway stood and rubbed her stiff, aching neck. "I'll see you there, in twenty minutes, then." She stepped out of her ready room, onto the bridge. "Lieutenant Paris, you have the bridge, until further notice. I'll be in Conference Room 1, if needed."
Tom Paris, who had been working something on his own console, got to his feet, walked to the command chair and made himself comfortable with a leisurely "Yes, Ma'am!" Janeway shot him a mildly irritated look but tolerated the out-of-the-regulations addressing.
Down Below, one of the Star Riders' hideouts
In Down Below, in a section mostly populated by Minbari, Alyt Neroon sat awake in his temporary room, preparing himself for the big confrontation that would end the thousand-year-old peace on Minbar. Well, the thousand cycles old peace, he corrected himself with a grim smile. In Earth standard years it had been even longer.
And it will end today. By his own hand.
Neroon didn't want Valen's Peace to come to an end, but he had no choice. It hadn't been the Warrior Caste that broke that peace in the first place. It had been Delenn and her Religious allies who had unleashed the Holy War against Earth – and it had been them, too, who had decided to capitulate, at the verge of ultimate victory, after the Warrior Caste had fought and bled, the Dark Star had been lost and Neroon's beloved sister, the mother of Rastenn, had been killed.
They had started the enmity between the two Castes. Neroon only intended to finish it.
He was not sure what to think about Valen, now that he knew that Valen had actually been Sinclair. Yes, the Warrior Caste had learned about the events concerning Babylon 4. Regardless of what Delenn might have thought, there still were loyal souls, even among the crew of the White Star and among the workers of the Religious Caste shipyards, who felt their duty to keep the Warrior Caste informed.
Besides, Neroon had been Grey, even if only for a short time. He had been Satai, one of the Nine.
So yes, he knew that Valen and Sinclair were basically the same person. What's more, he also knew from Satai Khadiri, who had been a member of the Grey Council during the Earth-Minbari war, how they had discovered Sinclair's true identity. Khadiri was the older sister of his mother, after all. So he could not deny the fact in itself.
But that did not mean, in his opinion, that Minbari souls would truly be reborn in the worthless bodies of human vermin. Valen had been the exception, not the rule – a chosen tool in desperate times, and there were no others like him. Even so, Neroon had had a hard time to accept him for what – or who – he was. It seemed just too blasphemous.
Contrary to common belief, Neroon had not always intended to become a warrior. Just like his mentor and role model, Branmer, he had once felt the religious calling of his heart and even started his studies in the Temple. But his mind proved too independent, his nature too rebellious to accept all the rules and teachings and rituals of the Religious Caste, without asking questions or second-guessing all those so-called truths he had been expected to believe just because he had been told so.
Thus he left the Temple and followed the traditional path of his family and became a warrior – one of the best in his whole Caste. But he never ceased to believe in destiny, to wait for the appointed day on which he would be asked to do something for his people. Something nobody else could – or would – do.
He felt strongly that that day had finally arrived. He intended to prepare himself for the terrible task by fasting and meditating. Yet he also felt that he was not alone in the dark chamber.
"Who is there?" he asked in a low voice.
Nidell came forth from a shadowy corner, almost invisible in her black Warrior Caste uniform, only her face glowing softly in the pale light that illuminated the traditional triluminary shrine.
"Are you truly determined to do this, Alyt?" she asked, her dark eyes deeply worried. "Are you certain that there is no other way?"
Neroon shook his head grimly.
"There is none. You haven't been at home for a long time, young one, you cannot know of the changes. The Religious Caste chose to betray us, tog gather more and more power behind our backs, building warships… They must be stopped."
"True," Nidell nodded, "but must it be done so that you would have to sacrifice your honour in the process?"
"Some things are infinitely more important than one's personal honour," Neroon said.
"Shai Alyt Sineval and the crew of the Trigati would not agree with you," Nidell replied quietly but firmly.
For a moment, Neroon set aside his mental preparations to give her a calculating look. She was young, courageous and clever, one of their best agents on Babylon 5, not to mention beautiful and honourable – a worthy follower and mirror image of her aunt, Deeron, the late First Officer of the Trigati… and still unbound. Perhaps when this mess with Delenn and the Religious Caste was over, the family should arrange a courtship for Rastenn. The two would be a good match, Neroon decided, and this would be a good alliance for the two families.
"They might not agree with me," he replied, "but they are not here, in my place. It is I who must choose the best way to end this conflict – whatever it takes."
"I fail to understand what good could come out of an action against one's own honour," Nidell said, strong in her faith and not frightened a bit by the leader of her clan. Good. The family needed a strong and independent mate for the Heir.
Neroon allowed himself a thin, ironic smile.
"The Religious Caste has a saying, Nidell," he said and quoted: "'Understanding is not required – only obedience.'"
"By all due respect, Alyt," she replied without as much as blinking, "that is a foolish rule indeed. Small wonder that the members of the Religious Caste are so… weird."
"Does it mean that you will not obey me in case you cannot understand my orders?" Neroon inquired mildly.
"Oh, no, Alyt," she said with a grin, "I am just not willing to give up my own opinion while I obey your orders."
Neroon grinned back. Talking to this spirited young warrior had made him feel better about himself and about the possible outcome of this whole day.
"Nidell," he said, "I know that you are still unbound. As clan leader, I know about these things. But are you promised to anyone?"
"No," she replied, her surprise clearly showing. "My work has not left me time to accept a courtship… or initiate one. Why do you ask?"
"You could be a great asset to our family," Neroon answered openly. "I wish to arrange a courtship between you and Rastenn, if you are not adverse."
For a moment, Nidell couldn't answer. Matchmaking was a time-honoured tradition on Minbar, one that older relatives often executed when the young ones were too busy – or not willing – to look for a mate themselves. As the numbers of their people were dwindling, it was ultimately the duty of every Minbari to procreate… or at least try. So, Neroon's request wasn't unreasonable – just unexpected.
"I… I will have to think about this first," she finally said. She had nothing against Rastenn, personally, but taking a mate was a choice for a lifetime. One did not do it lightly.
Neroon nodded. "Of course. We have to solve the current crisis first anyway." He gave the now obviously troubled young woman a short nod. "Leave me now. I have to meditate before I make my move."
Nidell merged with the shadows noiselessly, but Neroon heard her light footsteps retreating nevertheless. He sat back down on the hard metal floor and weighed the hereditary denn'bok of his family in both hands for a moment.
The time of arguments was over. Now it was time for the weapons to speak.
Voyager – Conference Room
Chakotay and Ayala were already in the conference room when Janeway returned from her short foray to the mess room – she dared to face Neelix's newest creation, after all – and shortly thereafter Tuvok, too, arrived, supporting a still deathly pale and obviously weak Lyta Alexander. Kes accompanied them, one eye on the medical tricorder all the time.
"How do you feel, Ms Alexander?" Janeway asked. The red-haired woman gave her a faint smile.
"Awful," she said, "but it beat being dead."
"I'm sorry that we had to bother you," Janeway apologized. "But whatever you happened to… well, overheard… might be important."
Lyta nodded carefully. "I understand. Although I'm afraid I don't have very much to say."
Sheridan arrived right on time, with Garibaldi in tow; the chief had left the organization of security for Delenn's inauguration in Zack Allen's capable hands. They had brought Marcus, too, as the one who knew the most about Minbari politics. Janeway wondered briefly about Ivanova's absence; after all, the First Officer of Babylon 5 was more than involved in the current crisis.
"She is in C&C," Sheridan explained. "That's about as safe as you can ever be on Babylon 5. Besides, she is the only one I can entrust the safety of the station in a crisis. Corwin is a good officer but much too young and inexperienced."
Janeway nodded. "I see. Now, since we are here to exchange information, I'd like a short summary of the situation. Who are these people in my brig, who are their allies in that hidden sector of Babylon 5, and why do you think that Commander Ivanova is in particular danger? In this order, if possible."
Sheridan looked at Garibaldi. "I think you have the most complete picture, Michael. Would you do the honours?"
"All right," Garibaldi began ticking off things on his fingers. "The guys in the brig are Rishi and Jack Culkin, once members of station security, who had joined Home Guard and Nightwatch, respectively. Those are Earth Gov elite organizations, the latter of which tried to take over the station a couple of weeks ago. The other guys in Grey… whatever, are their cronies, save Malcolm Biggs, who represents the Home Guard, the most xenophobic of all Pro-Earth organizations. Unfortunately, they are also the most influential ones of all similar groups, supported directly by EarthGov. I'm pretty sure that they work hand in hand with Nightwatch. Biggs used to be an old friend of Ivanova's, but Susan managed to reveal his role in a conspiracy to kill alien dignitaries, back in Commander Sinclair's times, so it's possible that he's out there to get her for that."
"What makes me even more worried are the hints about this Stoner Mr Ayala mentioned in his report," Sheridan added grimly. "If this is the same man we had the questionable honour to meet already, that could mean big trouble."
"Lieutenant Ayala's report suggests that this man is a telepath," Tuvok said. "Is he a particularly strong one?"
Sheridan shook his head. "No. Not any longer, that is. As far as I can hope to understand these things at all, he lost his telepathic abilities due to certain experiments of the PsiCorps. However, they turned him into a very strong empath. He was capable of charm anyone in plain sight out of their minds, so that they did whatever he wanted."
"According to those Nightwatch types, the guy is used to manipulate Minbari," Ayala said. "To carefully orchestrate the increase of conflicts between the Castes. Is such a thing possible?"
All eyes turned to Marcus for an answer. The Ranger thought about it, then he shrugged.
"Given enough time, it can be done. Telepathic tinkering wouldn't work. Minbari are used to telepaths and are taught to keep up their mental shields, such as they might have, all the time – they would realize at the moment someone tried to touch heir minds. But fuelling their natural emotions would go unnoticed, I think."
"You think?" Sheridan frowned. Marcus shrugged again.
"I can't be sure. Minbari are very secretive, and I only know the Rangers among them closer. It might be different in the Religious Caste. I don't know what sort of special training they receive."
"Are there any methods to resist such tampering?" Sheridan asked.
"There is indeed," Tuvok answered in Marcus' steed. "For example, Cardassian soldiers start an intensive training that makes them capable to resist any telepathic intrusion at a very early age. Even a very strong telepath would find it difficult to read their minds."
Sheridan knew by now, of course, who the Cardassians were. He had read the Voyager logs already. But the analogy was not helping in the current situation, and he told so. Chakotay grinned.
"But talking to Vulcans means that you learn all sorts of fascinating trivia," he said with emphasis, and Janeway, Ayala and even Kes were hard put to suppress a grin. Tuvok's face remained as impassive as always, and once again, Sheridan had the feeling that he'd missed an inside joke. Perhaps one day they will tell him what it was.
"Any ideas what we could do about this Stoner?" he asked.
Janeway shook her head. "It's not our job to interfere," she said. "I'm sure Ambassador Delenn will be able to deal with the problem after her inauguration, especially since she'll have the Rangers to help her now. Ms Alexander," she added, turning to Lyta, "Is there a possibility that this Mr Stoner has been sent to Minbar by the PsiCorps itself?"
Lyta shook her had and grimaced from the pain this careless gesture caused.
"I don't… think so. Whatever… we may think about the... PsiCorps, and I am… certainly not a big… fan of them, they... at least do protect their… loyal members. I've heard…about the experiments… Stoner was… very valuable for the … Corps… a great success, and he… kept working for the… They wouldn't… risk him this way…"
She went silent, exhausted from the long speech. Garibaldi nodded.
"True. We got to feel that success first-hand, all right. Do you think Biggs and his cronies got Stoner right after we had thrown him off Babylon 5?"
"They could have just as well got him on Earth," Sheridan said thoughtfully. "They had years to find him."
"No," Lyta said. "They couldn't have… abducted him on Earth… or on Mars, where… the PsiCorps has… a strong presence. They'd have watched… Stoner like… bloodhounds."
"So the danger he represents for Minbar roots from EarthGov itself, or from the Home Guard, not from the PsiCorps," Janeway summarized. "We should definitely inform Ambassador Delenn."
Tuvok shifted in his seat. "I would like to offer another opinion, Captain Sheridan."
Sheridan looked at him a little surprised then shrugged. "Go on. I'm thankful for all help I can get."
"I see two possible solutions here," Tuvok pressed his fingertips together in the characteristic Vulcan manner of contemplation. "One would be to contact the Minbari authorities, as already suggested. Minbari do have telepaths, therefore they could find Mr Stoner and remove him from the planet."
Sheridan tried not to show his impatience. Apparently, Vulcans needed almost as much time as Minbari to finally get to the point. "And the other possibility?"
"You could contact the PsiCorps," Tuvok raised a hand to stop the understandable protest from the side of the Babylon 5 crew. "Consider this, Captain: they want Mr Stoner back. Thy have the means to find him and take him home. Without diplomatic incidents, without much noise. The results would be the same, only the process faster and smoother."
"Yeah, but why should the PsiCorps believe us?" Garibaldi asked doubtfully. "And why should we believe them, for that matter? Unless, of course, we want to make a deal with the devil again."
"Bester," Sheridan nodded. "It could work. If anyone, he'd certainly go after the guy as far as the Rim, if necessary. He is very protective of his people. But how in Hell should we try to contact him: We are under quarantine, our messages are jammed."
"There are... ways," Lyta said quietly. "The blips… keep an eye on… the Corps. There is… occasional contact. It'll take time, but… I might be able to… arrange something."
"Let's give it a shot," Garibaldi suggested. "I hate Bester as much as the next guy, but the Psi Cops are damn efficient."
"All right," Sheridan sighed. "Now, what are we doing about our guerrillas in Grey Sector? It might sound paranoid, but I feel decidedly uncomfortable, knowing that they are lurking all over the station – especially in Grey Sector. That place is the proverbial rat trap."
"I'm afraid we'll have to comb through Grey Sector with a fine toothed comb," Garibaldi replied with a sour face. "It'd be a hell of a job; I only hope your advanced sensors can be of some help," he looked at Tuvok, who exchanged a look with Janeway, interpreted her facial expression as defeat and nodded. "But it has to wait at least one day. Right now, we have to focus all our efforts on securing the ceremony today."
"Can you do it?" Sheridan asked worriedly. "I don't want Delenn to be harmed."
"Trust me, Captain; she won't. We know our jobs, and we know what to look out for now. There will be no chance for any Home Guard or Nightwatch assassin to get close to her."
Green Sector – Vir's quarters
For the first time since she had been re-called from Minbar, Vir was feeling carefully optimistic, almost happy. Sam Wildman had kept her word and arranged for him a visit on Voyager – a completely informal one, of course, but like any good Centauri, all Vir needed was an opportunity.
He knew that his skills were rather… limited when it came to political schemings, but he could be quite persuasive when allowed to be honest. Plus, he had just recently helped some of the Voyager crew in a rather unpleasant situation. He felt reasonably positive about a "chance" meeting with Captain Janeway.
But first he had to attend Ambassador Delenn's inauguration ceremony. As the former Centauri ambassador on Minbar, he had received an invitation of his own, as someone who had a deeper understanding of the importance of this event than any other Centauri, including Londo. He genuine liked the Minbari way of life – at least what he had come to know as such – and his interest earned him the respect of the Minbari.
He wished he could wear the robe that he had received as a gift on Minbar, to honour Delenn that way, but he knew it would irritate Londo. And as at this time the irate ambassador was the only thing that stood between him and exile – or even execution – for helping the Narn refugees, he couldn't afford to provoke Londo. Even so, he looked forward to participate in one of the serene Minbari ceremonies again. He had grown fond of them, finding them very soothing.
He was all but finished with getting dressed and groomed for the big event, when his comm unit beeped. To his amazement, the display showed that the call was coming in through one of the secured diplomatic channels. One used by Minbari only.
That alone was unusual enough, but even greater did his amazement become when he opened the channel and Rastenn's face appeared on his viewscreen. At first sight he barely recognized the young Minbari in full Warrior Caste regalia, with all that black leather and spikes and the crest of the Star Riders upon his breast. Gone was the simple Worker Vir had known. This Rastenn was elegant, arrogant, coldly handsome and most likely very dangerous.
"Greetings, Vir," he said, bowing his head, his sharpened bonecrest glittering in the artificial light of his ship. Vir gulped. He knew now what a Minbari bonecrest could be used for, if necessary. He would never look at one in the same way.
"I must keep this short," Rastenn continued, "as this call has not been authorized."
Vir nodded mutely. He didn't ask how Rastenn managed to access a diplomatic channel. If one was the nephew of Neroon, leader of the Star Riders, one had possibilities.
"I assume you have been invited to Delenn's inauguration," Rastenn said, and Vir nodded again. "I would strongly advise not to go. It could be… unsafe."
"For whom?" Vir finally found his voice.
Rastenn hesitated for a moment.
"Not everybody on Minbar does agree with Delenn being chosen as the new Entil'zha," he finally said, choosing his words very carefully. "It can happen that this choice… that her right to accept the responsibility will be challenged. The results could be… ugly."
Vir stared at the viewscreen in utter shock. He understood the hint at once, of course. These things happened on Centauri Prime all the time. But…
"B-But what about V-Valen's Peace?" he stuttered nervously. "W-What about M-Minbari not k-killing other Minbari?"
"Valen's Peace has lasted thousand cycles," Rastenn answered coldly, "but there are other traditions on Minbar, older and more sacred than Valen's teachings. We must not speak of them to strangers. But I do not wish you to be harmed, Vir. I owe you, and I intend to re-pay my debt. Stay away from the ceremony. It is for your own protection."
"I appreciate the sentiment," Vir said slowly, "but you see, I have to go. Delenn was the one who helped me to get the post on Minbar, and I intend to honour her, no matter what. And if there is any danger, Lennier will be there to protect her – and Lennier is my friend. It's not likely that I could be of any help, but I won't let a friend face danger alone. You probably can't understand this, but…"
He trailed off, frightened by the angry glint in Rastenn's black eyes. Apparently, he had managed to insult the proud Minbari warrior, without meaning it.
"If I did not understand," Rastenn said in a tight voice, "would we be having this conversation? Fine; be a fool. I cannot leave the ship to protect you. I have done for you all that was in my power – it is up to you now."
He broke the connection abruptly. Vir sighed, pondering for a while what he should do. Should he alert Captain Sheridan? No; the Minbari would not like that. They preferred to solve their conflicts among themselves. He could, of course, call Lennier and tell him what he had heard. But that would mean to give away Rastenn, who could get into serious trouble for having contacted and warned him. Besides, Vir doubted very much that Lennier wouldn't know about the danger already. The young priest had excellent contacts in the Minbari community on Babylon 5. Even among the other Castes.
Vir shook his head in regret, tugged on his best jacket and stepped out of his quarters. He would not interfere – it was not his place to do so. The Minbari would not appreciate it, and neither would Londo. But he would honour Delenn, whatever might come, and maybe, just maybe, his presence at the ceremony would make some difference. After all, Rastenn had valued him enough to risk an unauthorized call, just to warn him.
Despite all else, it made him feel unexpectedly good.
TBC