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 muse felt industrious, it seems. Let's hope she stays that way. I expect one more chapter of this story, but, of course, we can never know.
PART TWENTY
Voyager – Tuvok's office
At 17:30 board time – which happened to be station time as well – Janeway, Torres, Tuvok, Neelix, Kes and several other crewmembers were ready to leave for the big even of the day. They were gathering in the corridor that led to the exit when the ship was docked or landed and waited for Chakotay to join them. Unseen by the others, Torres had the 24th century equivalent of an earpiece, hidden under her shoulder-length hair, to be able to keep contact with Kim, who was selected to keep an eye on Marcus.
The meeting with Sheridan and Garibaldi had lasted far into the afternoon. Various strategies had been discussed, duty rosters synchronized between Tuvok and Garibaldi, surveillance techniques compared – for which they had called in Seven of Nine – and finally a plan for searching he station took temporary shape. Lyta and Kes had excused themselves and returned to Sickbay after the first hour. Marcus, vaguely mentioning some urgent Ranger business, had left shortly before noon, not noticing the looks exchanged between Chakotay, Torres and Kim.
Captain Janeway had left Paris in charge, and Tom, although he hated to miss spectacular events, didn't protest this time. Being in charge meant that he could cover Harry, should something go wrong. Harry had found some creative reasons not to attend the ceremony, but finally he managed to persuade the captain that is presence on board was absolutely necessary.
Now he was sitting in Tuvok's office with Ayala, pretending to work on some glitch in the surveillance system and waiting impatiently for the rest of the command crew to leave the ship. The beginning of the ceremony was awfully close already, and he didn't want to lose Marcus from sight.
"Do we still have a lock on him?" Chakotay, in all his glory wearing the asymmetrically cut dress uniform, poked in.
Harry nodded. "We have a clear visual of all the places he goes… assumed there are security cameras installed."
"Good. I wish B'Elanna could stay here to help you with any unexpected problems, but we couldn't think of any believable reason to leave her behind."
"No need to worry, Commander. Tom and I have everything under control here. And B'Elanna might be useful if it comes to a confrontation. There's nothing like an irate Klingon – all right, a half-Klingon – to frighten the bad guys into behaving themselves."
Chakotay shook his head tolerantly.
"Don't let her ever hear you saying that if you are still fond of your lungs," he warned. "And Harry, remember: no interference until the confrontation is over. That could cause great political trouble. We must allow Marcus to do what he thinks is right."
"I know that, Commander. We won't do anything before B'Elanna gives us her okay."
"All right. And have both Transporter Room and Sickbay on alert. We might have to handle very quickly."
With that, Chakotay left, and Harry and Ayala prepared themselves for a long surveillance session.
Down Below
Following Lennier's instructions, Marcus had found the maintenance corridor in Down Below that offered the easiest access to the higher levels where the ceremony chamber had been prepared. The Ranger had been hiding in the shadows for almost two hours, hoping that Lennier's information had been right. Should Neroon choose a different path to the ceremony chamber, all would be lost.
But no. He could already hear the echoing steps of heavy boats on the metal floor. He stopped breathing, knowing how acute Minbari hearing was, and Neroon was close. Very close.
When he thought he'd suffocate in a moment, he finally saw the shadow of the warrior entering the corridor from a passage on the right. The shadow was, soon followed by Neroon himself, in full Warrior Caste regalia. He was not as huge as Marcus had expected, knowing the legends surrounding his person, but there was an aggressive and downright menacing air about him. The razor-sharp spikes of his bonecrest glittered in the dim light, and Marcus suppressed a shudder. Ranger training had taught him what an effective weapon that bone could be. But he could not avoid confrontation now. In fact, he needed to seek confrontation, in order to save Delenn.
Thus he stepped out of the shadows and called after the broad back of the warrior. "So… you must be Neroon."
The swift strides came to an abrupt stop. The warrior turned around, the black eyes glittering like pieces of obsidian in his rugged face. He took in the Ranger uniform and the lithe form of the human in a single look and knew at once why the Ranger was here.
"You shouldn't get involved in things that don't concern you," he said in his deep, cold voice. "My quarrel is with Delenn."
Anger flared in Marcus at being dismissed in such a casual manner. "Then your quarrel is with me," he snarled.
Neroon shook his head in disbelief, faced by so much stubbornness. What could the scrawny human possibly hope to stop him? He'd kill the vermin and go on with his sacred duty to his people.
"Do you have any idea who I am?" he asked with something akin pity. He didn't really want to kill this child – there was no honour in that – but he would do so if the human didn't step aside.
Those large eyes in that pale face stared at him in defiant anger.
"I do," the Ranger said firmly. "But the only way you will get to her is through me. I invoke Denn'Sha."
That startled Neroon for a moment. Not the challenge itself, but the mere fact that the human had the cheek to challenge him. Few Minbari would have dared to do the same, even the best from the Warrior Caste would think twice before speak such a challenge. Even if Minbari still did kill Minbari. Denn'Sha had not been invoked for a thousand cycles. The human must have done extensive research in Warrior Caste traditions to know about it, in the first place.
Well, if he had a death wish, Neroon would be only happy to grant him death.
"To the death?" he repeated with a thin, ironic smile and extended his denn'bok. The thought to start the cleansing of his planet from the human vermin gave him strange satisfaction.
The human extended his own denn'bok; they touched the weapons in salute and walked the traditional circle as required, before each sinking into a fighter's crouch.
"During the war I killed fifty thousand of you," Neroon said with dark pleasure in that cold voice of his. "What's one more?"
They exchanged the first, tentative blows, just testing each other's strength. It was abundantly clear for Marcus that his only chance to stand long enough to win some time for Delenn would be in speed and agility. Every single one of Neroon's blows had an impact that literally rattled his teeth.
"Not bad...for a beginner," the Minbari said with the appreciation of a weapon master watching a promising pupil. The tone made Marcus raving mad – which was most likely Neroon's intention – but he forced himself to discipline. He could not afford being distracted. He had to make this last as long as possible.
He attacked again, trying to use his advantage against the heavier form of the Minbari. Like a sleek, lithe predator trying to bring down a much stronger bison. To his dismay, the Minbari blocked his strikes easily. The warrior might have been bigger and heavier, but he was not slow. Bugger.
"Last chance," Neroon offered, to his own surprise feeling something like a grudging respect for the foolish bravery of the human. "I was taught the pike by Durhann himself."
Marcus whirled around, dealing a blow known as Sech Durhann's special move and taught only to the best pupils of the old pike master.
"Really?" he taunted in an unexpected moment of triumph. "So was I."
Neroon blocked the blow – barely – his black eyes narrowing. He knew, of course, that Sech Durhann accepted the honour to train the Rangers in Tuzanor, but he'd never thought that the Master would lower himself to train humans. Durhann was the pride of the Warrior Caste, a respected, honourable and deadly warrior. How could he do such thing?
And yet the Master's influence could clearly be seen in the human's moves. This was outrageous. Neroon felt his heart grow cold with dismay and contempt.
"You are a fool," he said coldly. Yes, the Human may have been taught by Durhann, and he did have the advantage of speed and agility, but Neroon had the advantage of strength and experience. He had trained his whole life for battle. He had prepared his whole life for this crucial moment. "But if this is what you wish, then Denn'Sha it will be."
He launched into attack again. He had been delayed enough, distracted from his purpose – probably this had been the human's intention all the time. Well, it did not work. This will end here – and so will Delenn's harmful influence.
The Ceremony Chamber
By this time, the audience of Delenn's inauguration ceremony had already gathered in the ceremony chamber, waiting for the big event to begin. The command crew of Babylon 5 – including Sheridan, Ivanova and Garibaldi, but, strangely enough for most, lacking Marcus – formed one group, the Voyager officers another one, while the alien dignitaries, Londo and Vir among them, a third one. G'Kar was present, too, despite his status (or the lack of it), standing with station security.
Delenn stood in front of the Ranger banner with an elderly Minbari on her side: Rathenn, the one responsible for organizing the life of the Ranger trainees in Tuzanor, who acted as the ceremony master of this event. He wore the long, richly folded, light brown robe with very wide, pale purple sleeves that almost swept the floor when he lowered his arms. Currently he had folded his hands upon his breast. He was a spectacular sight to behold, Delenn looking small and fragile in comparison, yet no one could have any doubt who had the true strength, the real power here.
And yet there was a palpable tension in the air, as if people were waiting for something bad to happen. Even Sheridan, not particularly sensitive in this area, could feel it.
"Any problems?" he asked Ivanova in a low voice.
"Not that I've heard about," Ivanova replied, but she wasn't really assured herself. Unlike Sheridan, she could acutely feel that something was about to happen. Something rather unpleasant. Being a latent telepath had its disadvantages.
Sheridan gave her a suspicious look but said nothing. Instead, he looked around, feeling something – or someone – amiss. "Where is Marcus?" I thought for sure he'd be here. This is Ranger business, and he is supposed to be our resident Ranger, is he not?"
"I don't know," Ivanova shrugged; to be perfectly honest, she didn't miss the annoying Ranger a bit. "Something must have come up."
Torres had navigated herself into a position near the only entrance of the chamber. She was uncomfortably visible standing there, but it also gave her the advantage of being able to leave as soon as possible. Plus, this far from her shipmates she could communicate with Harry… if she spoke quietly enough. She caught Lennier's worried look and gave the young priest an encouraging nod. Of course, Lennier couldn't have any idea that they were monitoring Marcus, but he seemed in much need of some reassuring.
A white-clad priestess entered the ceremony chamber, carrying the neatly folded traditional vest of Entil'zha on her outstretched arm. B'Elanna stepped aside a little, as she didn't want to ruin her perfect entrée; and in this very moment Harry's voice reported through her earpiece.
"B'Elanna… it has begun. And it doesn't look well for Marcus."
"Where are they?" she breathed, after the priestess got a little farther from her position.
"I'm transferring the coordinates to your tricorder," Harry replied. "How are things progressing on your end?"
Torres glanced forward. The priestess still hadn't made halfway across the chamber. "Slowly. I'm afraid we'll have to prepare ourselves for Plan B. Keep the connection. I'm on my way."
With all eyes focused on the events in the ceremony chamber, B'Elanna managed to slip out unnoticed and aimed for Down Below with grim determination. True, they weren't allowed to interfere with an internal affair of the Minbari. But this didn't mean that she could not provoke a confrontation with Neroon on her own. Klingons – even half-Klingons – were known of their foul temper.
The priestess reached the dais where Delenn was standing and laid the vest before her feet. Lennier, the only one who had noticed Torres' departure, looked around in worry. He knew something was going on, something not even he had been informed of, but he couldn't leave right now. His place was here, to protect Delenn. With his life, should Marcus fail to stop Neroon.
Down Below
In the meantime, in the dimly-lit maintenance corridor of Down Below, Marcus was fighting for his life – and losing. For a while, he managed to evade the crushing blows Neroon directed at him. He rolled and spun out of striking distance, then darted back in for strikes of his own, blocking the Minbari's pike most effectively. But he knew that, in the long run, he had no chance. Neroon would wear him off and kill him. There was only so much speed and agility could do against superior strength – and superior experience.
Nevertheless, the battle stretched on far longer than Neroon had expected, and the warrior's ire was rising slowly but steadily. He had no time to waste on this human – he had a destiny to fulfil. He added more strength to his blows and felt the Ranger tremble under the impact. He could almost hear the fragile human bones rattle. Good. The sooner he broke this annoying man, the sooner he could get to Delenn and deal with her.
He landed another brutal blow and now Marcus faltered, collapsing like a rag doll on the floor, his face smeared with blood. Neroon shook his head, and there was almost something very close to compassion in his cold, black eyes.
"What is this folly?" he shouted in exasperation. "Why this waste of resources? You are a good fighter; you have potential that should not to be spent lightly. Once Denn'Sha is invoked I cannot surrender, but you... You are not Minbari. Step aside and I will pretend that you ran away," he added with an arrogant smile, but inwardly he almost begged this stubborn fool to listen. "Changed your mind. No one will know."
Marcus scrambled to his feet, injured and hurt but lunging into attack vehemently again, without regard of the costs.
"I am a Ranger," he yelled. "We walk in the dark places no others will enter," he tried to deal another blow at Neroon, got carried away by the trajectory and stumbled, but miraculously remained on his feet. "We stand on the bridge and no one may pass. We live for the One, we die for the One!" With a desperate cry, he threw himself against the Minbari again.
Voyager – Tuvok's office
In the security office, Harry and Ayala followed the uneven fight in stunned admiration. The Maquis shook his head in sorrow.
"He is brave," he said, meaning Marcus, of course, "but he has no chance. None at all. He is too exhausted already to defend himself, and yet he tries to attack his opponent. He'll be killed. He could just as well fight a Klingon with his bare hands."
"He tries to win time for the ceremony to come to an end," Harry replied, equally worried for his new friend and wincing in sympathy every time Marcus received a vicious blow from the Minbari. "Lennier said, once it's done, it can't be undone."
"Yeah, but while doing so he will get beyond help, even if we beam the Doctor over there," Ayala said grimly. At that, Harry couldn't say anything, so they continued watching the brutal scenario through the security cameras.
Neroon blocked Marcus' blows easily now, and he started getting really mad at the human's persistence. He lashed out with deliberate cruelty, so hard that even Harry and Ayala could hear the crunch of bone.
"I've just broken two of your ribs," he told the broken and bleeding man, and smashed his denn'bok down again, without mercy, even though the Ranger was in no shape to defend himself anymore. "Sorry," he said with a nasty smile. "Make that three."
"That's beyond any fair fight," Harry hissed angrily. "Where in Hell is Torres? She should go in and break the kneecaps of this guy. Or his neck, preferably."
Ayala gave him a strange look. "She can't do that, Harry. Orders, remember? Or is your Starfleet icing peeling off, now that a friend is in real trouble? We might make a Maquis out of you yet."
"Was that a compliment or an insult?" Harry asked sarcastically, not turning his eyes from the viewscreen for a moment. "I can't understand why Marcus isn't giving up. He can't do anything to delay Neroon any longer – does he have a death wish or what?"
But it seemed that the Ranger would not surrender, despite the obvious outcome of the fight. Had not even given in to unconsciousness, which would have made his end less painful. He stumbled to his feet again, but collapsed against a few shallow steps at almost the same time. The Minbari leaned over him, his denn'bok raised to deal the final blow.
"Why?" Neroon demanded. "Why all of this? Pride? Duty? You've been trained well, but you must have known you couldn't win. So why do it?"
"He forgot the death wish," Ayala commented softly.
Marcus gasped for breath, staring up into Neroon's coldly furious eyes and at the bloodied end of the denn'bok mere inches away from his face.
"For… her," he said, swallowing hard, his voice barely audible and full of pain. "We live for the One… We die for the One... Isil'Zha veni. In… Valen's name…"
Harry shut his eyes like a child, not wanting to see the final blow that would crush the skull of his newfound friend. At this moment, he cursed Starfleet's non-intervention policy. It was not right that one wasn't allowed to help a friend.
"You can look now," Ayala's voice said. Harry opened his eyes just in time to see the Minbari lower his pike with a thoughtful, almost reverent expression on his suddenly calm face. What could he have seen in that moment when his eyes and Marcus' had met? Harry could not even try to guess. But something must have passed between the two of them, for Marcus was still breathing and showed no additional injury. Thank all Delta Quadrant deities for small favours.
The Minbari turned away from his fallen opponent and stalked out of the place where they had battled, bloodied pike in hand. For a fleeting moment, the corridor was empty. Some ten seconds later, B'Elanna stormed in, rushing to Marcus' side. She pulled out her tricorder and scanned the Ranger quickly. Then she hit her comm badge.
"Harry? He's still alive, but in a very bad shape. Beam the Doctor over here."
The Ceremony Chamber
In the ceremony chamber, the inauguration rites were nearing their end. Delenn, now wearing the vest of Entil'zha, was offered a chalice of red wine. She lifted it with both hands, saluting to the Rangers that will be under her command once the ceremony was completed, before tasting it, as tradition demanded.
Rathenn stepped closer to her, the Ishilz'a, the time-honoured Ranger badge in his hands, and fastened the broche upon her vest.
"As it was done long ago, now we also name she who will lead us," he announced. "So, now among the Rangers let her be known as Entil…"
He trailed off, as the door swung open unexpectedly, and a hooded figure walked in, wearing the black Warrior Caste uniform. All fell silent at his appearance, staring, waiting for something horrible to happen. Neroon threw back his hood so that all could see who he was, and lifted the bloody denn'bok. Seeing their eyes upon it, he threw it before Delenn's feet with a snarl.
"There is now blood between us," he said in a quiet, deadly voice. "And there is blood between the Warrior Caste and the humans. I do not think they would die for me. But they would die... for you," he paused, gathering his inner strength to add the allowance that cost him a considerable amount of his pride. "Entil'zha."
With that, he turned around and left. Lennier, worry and guilt written clearly on his face, tried to storm off after him but was stopped by Chakotay.
"Wait," the XO of Voyager said. "Does this mean that the danger for the Ambassador is over?"
"Yes," Lennier answered impatiently. "Once the ceremony is completed, which it is, there is nothing Neroon – or anyone else – could do. Please, Commander, I really have to go and look after Marcus."
"No, you haven't," Chakotay, barely touching his elbow, gently navigated him out of the ceremony chamber. "It has already been taken care of. You are not the only friend Marcus has on the station."
They stepped out into the corridor and Chakotay touched his comm badge. "Chakotay to Kim. How are things going, Harry?"
"Marcus is still alive, but his condition is critical," answered the far-away voice of Harry. "We've beamed the Doctor over to treat him, but he says he can't do much on a dirty floor. We should beam Marcus to Voyager, Commander. I know the captain won't agree, but we can't let Marcus die."
Chakotay thought about it for a moment.
"Beam him over," he then ordered. "I'll accept the responsibility. Let the Doctor fix him, so that he'd be out of immanent danger, then relocate him as close to the MedLabs as possible. I'll alert Doctor Hobbs to expect him."
"Understood," Harry said. "B'Elanna is in Down Below with Marcus right now, so he is protected for the time being. Where will you be, Commander, in case you are needed?"
"MedLabs. You can reach me through my comm badge. Chakotay out." Chakotay broke the connection, then he turned to Lennier. "Let's go, Mr Lennier. As I know our Doctor, Marcus will be in the MedLabs in a few minutes. And you need to inform Ambassador Delenn."
MedLabs, twenty-eight minutes later
Lillian Hobbs didn't mind that he had not been able to attend the ceremony. Things had been turbulent enough recently, and she welcomed a – hopefully – quiet duty shift all by her own, save the duty nurse. Of course, on Babylon 5 one could never know.
Still, she was a little surprised to see Chakotay entering the main door that led to the MedLabs. He looked positively dashing in his dress uniform, his elegantly greying, jet-black hair coiffed back and out of his handsome face. Unfortunately, based on the expression upon said face, Lillian was sure this could not be an informal visit.
"Chakotay… is something wrong?" she asked.
Chakotay nodded. "I'm afraid so. Marcus had a rather… unpleasant encounter with a Minbari warrior. As a result, he's pretty much beaten up… couple of broken ribs… internal bleedings… cuts, bruises… that sort of thing."
Lillian sprang to her feet. "Where is he?"
"Our Doctor is fixing the most pressing problems right now," Chakotay grabbed her arm to keep her from leaving. "We'll bring him back to your care as soon as his condition is stable. We didn't want to interfere with your duties, but there was no way he could have been brought here from Down Below alive."
"That bad?" Lillian felt all blood leaving her face. True, Marcus had always been a trouble magnet, but it seemed this time he really managed to get into some very serious trouble.
"That bad," Chakotay agreed. "We'll beam him back as close to the MedLabs as possible, once he's stabilized."
"While don't you… beam him right here?" Lillian asked with a frown.
"That's why," Chakotay nodded in the direction of the surveillance cameras positioned all over the examination and intensive care areas. "The captain doesn't want records about our transporter technology, and frankly, I agree with her. It could cause… unnecessary concerns by foreign governments. Besides, EarthGov doesn't need to now what we are capable of."
"But you did beam me out of my office yesterday…"
"True. But your office isn't automatically surveyed by the SecureCom system. You have deleted the record, though, haven't you?"
"Of course I have; what do you think I am, a fool?" Lillian glanced at her wrist chrono. "When can I expect the return of Marcus?"
"I'm not sure, but I think…" his comm badge beeped. He touched it. "Chakotay. Speak."
"This is the Doctor," the artificial voice answered. "The patient's condition is stable. He can be moved now. But he'll need extensive care for a few weeks."
"May I?" Lillian asked. Chakotay nodded and the doctor leaned closer to his comm badge. "Doctor, this is Lillian Hobbs. Can you send me the complete medical file about Marcus' injuries?"
"I doubt that my matrix could handle your stone age-type computer system," came the acerbic response, "but I'll ask Seven of Nine to do something. She seems to have taken a liking to your data crystals. Voyager out."
Lillian raised an eyebrow. Chakotay gave her one of his sly smiles.
"You can't fire a hologram. You can't throttle one, either. Especially since he's the only doctor we have. But I have to admit, the temptation is strong sometimes."
Lillian grinned and followed him outside the MedLabs, to the coordinates that had been sent to his tricorder. Shortly thereafter Transporter Room 2 contacted Chakotay, warning him about the transport to come. Then the air shimmered briefly, and the limp body of Marcus, clad in a Starfleet-issue, blue Sickbay pyjama, appeared on the floor. He was deathly pale and badly bruised, but he seemed to sleep peacefully… well, more or less.
"A stretcher!" Lillian snapped with her fingers, angry with herself for not thinking of it earlier. "We'll need a stretcher. And another Med Tech to…"
"No, we don't," Chakotay stooped and gathered the injured Ranger in his arms. "It's easier this way. Where should I take him?"
"Follow me!" Lillian hurried forward to lead him to the intensive care area.
Down Below – another hideout of the Star Riders
"You were determined to break Valen's Peace and cast away your honour, for you felt it inevitable in order to save our people," Nidell said, confusion written clearly all over her lovely face. "Yet you did not so. Instead, you left Denn'Sha unfinished, allowing your honour to be tainted as a result, just to spare that… that human's life. Why could you possibly have done that?"
"At that time, it was the only honourable thing to do," Neroon answered absently, cleaning his denn'bok from the human's blood.
"Breaking one of the most ancient and sacred rituals of our Caste for a human should be honourable?" the incredulity of the mere idea made Nidell's eyes widen.
Neroon set his weapon aside. Maybe if he could make Nidell understand his reasons, he could understand them himself.
"Nidell," he said slowly, "at the moment when I raised my denn'bok to deal him the final blow, I looked into that human's eyes. And I saw his soul as he prepared himself to die. There was no fear in him. Just courage. Devotion. Honour. And now I am confused. More confused than I have ever been in my life."
It was unheard of that the powerful leader of the Star Riders would admit any weakness. Nidell was shocked by the confession… but also intrigued.
"What confused you, Alyt?" she asked softly.
Neroon sighed, rubbing his temples.
"That human… in the moment of his imminent death, he invoked Valen's name. HE was willing to sacrifice himself, to keep Valen's Peace, which I, a Minbari, was determined to break. I don't know anymore what to think… what to believe. I will have to meditate over this."
Nidell remained silent for a while, considering the possibilities.
"Maybe if you spoke to that human, you would see more clearly," she then said.
TBC