**************************Chapter 11*************************************

The trip from Minbar to Babylon 5 was uneventful. We took the same ship that we had gone to Minbar in. My parents spent most of the time in the observation lounge with Uncle Mike and Aunt Lise, leaving the running of the ship up to the rest of us. Which was fine with us. I for one was starting to really LIKE the feel of that center chair.

As we flew through the jump gates, I got my first sight of the station from the viewscreen. It had been built more than 25 years ago and was still fully functioning. It had seen some rough days and very little was left of the original materials put into it. And yet, as I looked across the emptiness of the void, I could not help but feel a sense of . . . peace. The station had been built as a bridge to peace between the many alien races.

For 25 years it had been the home of a quarter million people. People coming and going; living and dying. And through it all, it had endured. Only four people had sat on the throne of command. My father was one of them. It had become infamous during his reign. And it had also been the site of a union of peace signed with my creation.

The first commander, Jeffrey Sinclair, had started the process by becoming my mother's friend. And it had lead him to find his destiny as the greatest Minbari to ever live. My father had first met my mother in one of the Council chambers on the station, after her metamorphosis. Sinclair had been instrumental in helping her reach the decision to go through the change. In fact, he is a distant ancestor of mine. Strange to think the he was only a few years older than my father when he went back in time to become Valen.

The third commander lasted more than 11 years. Captain Elizabeth Lochley. She had done an excellent job running the station. She had sided with Clark during the civil war, not able to turn her back on what she saw as her duty. I had met her only once, before the accident that claimed her life. She had seemed to be a friendly person. I was only 9 at the time. I could tell that there was some kind of tension between her and Mom. My father later explained that he had once been married to Lochley, when they had been in the Academy together.

After Lochley's death, Commander David Corwin was promoted to Captain and handed the reins. Corwin was one of only two people still on station who had been there since the beginning. He had started as a lowly tech, but through hard work and undying loyalty to the station's principal of peace, he had earned the trust of his superiors and had risen through the ranks.

The only other person remaining from my parents time on station was Chief Warrant Officer Zach Allen. He walked with a limp now. He had been shot in the leg during a scuffle a few years ago, and despite recent advances in medical treatments, there was nothing that could be done. He would walk with the limp for the rest of his life. They were trying to get him to step down and accept a desk job back on Earth. And had been failing for the last five years.

I asked for docking permission and was told that I could dock as soon as I was ready. I agreed and Kahlen turned control over to C&C. The ship slid into the docking bay. I watched as we slowed and the number painted on the wall. The number 13 flashed by every 50 feet until we came to a stop.

We had already decided to exit through the 4th deck airlock. The lower three decks were below the dock bay's 'floor'. We each went to collect our things, after first locking down the controls and shutting down most of the ships functions. We met my parents and the others at the airlock and we stepped through the circle and on to the ramp that lead to the slightly lower ground of the station.

There were two figures waiting for us as we stepped walked down the ramp. It was dim in the docking bay and there was nothing waiting to be loaded. It seemed strange to me that a bay would be this empty, even with the reduced shipments coming to the station.

"Greetings Madam President, Mr. Sheridan." called out a voice I vaguely remembered.

"Hello, David." my father answered and I knew who the two people were. "How's the old girl been holding up lately?"

The middle aged man with the slight paunch grinned. It took years off his face and I realized that it wasn't something he did overmuch.

"Everything's still working as well as it ever did, which means barely." He reached out a hand and the two shook. "How have you been doing, sir?"

My father grinned and shook his head. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me John, David? You aren't a lowly tech and I'm no longer your superior officer."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Corwin stated. "But in my mind, this station will always be yours and I'll always be the Lt. Commander that the rest of you ordered around for four years." He bowed to my mother and then reached out a hand. "How are you doing, Madam President?"

My mother was also grinning. "David. You have known me for 24 years. I think we can dispense with all the formalities when I am not here in any type of official capacity. Besides, technically, I have no jurisdiction over you. I am not a citizen of your Earth Alliance."

"Perhaps not, but that doesn't mean that you don't deserve the respect you've earned with your position. You are a head of state, and EarthForce regs state that I have to greet all official heads of state with all the ceremony due their positions."

"He's never gonna change, Delenn, so don't even bother to try." the second voice was much like my father's. It had the sound of grating stones and authority that only long years of hard use could give someone. Zach Allen stepped forward and gripped my father's hand. "He was corrupted a long time ago and I've been unable to get him to change. Even Lochley gave up, and you KNOW how stubborn she was."

"Zach. It's good to see you again." My father pumped the security man's hand up and down a few times. "What are you still doing here? I would have thought that you would have returned to Earth by now."

"They've been trying to get me out of here for years. I've stuck around to annoy the bureaucrats back home." He shrugged and his smile widened. "I'm going to hang it up soon, though. This is my last month."

"What made you stick around so long, Zach?" my uncle Mike asked as he took the man's hand.

"I didn't have any one I could trust enough to turn the job over to. But if the rumour is true, it won't matter soon. I've been training this one group

for the last few years, and they're almost ready. How you been, Micheal? I haven't seen you since the time you came through here chasing after Bester. Did you ever find that sleaze ball?"

Uncle Mike nodded and slapped Zach on the back. "Yes." he didn't elaborate and from the tone in his voice, I was glad he hadn't.

I waited patiently while the old friends reminisced for a while. Eventually, we started moving and soon, we were standing in the main corridor. There were shops and people going about their business while we passed through the security check point without stopping. One of the security men on duty tried to make us check in, but when his chief and captain both looked at him like he was a bug, he backed off. As we passed through a scanner, it went off, the light flashing and a small beepbeep issuing from a speaker on the side.

"Ah, Chief. I hate to do this, but the regs do say no weapons. Whoever set off the alarm, could you please place your weapon or weapons on this tray? I promise you'll get them back." He looked uncomfortable and I could almost sympathize.

Marcel shrugged and shook his head. "I can't." By now, all of us were looking at him curiously.

"I can't go weaponless. If I have to, I'll stay on the ship. I CAN'T give up my weapons."

"Sir, I hate to say this, but if he refuses, I'll have to arrest him." The security guard was beginning to annoy me.

"Does the ban apply to Rangers? I mean, to pikes and other Ranger weapons?" Shannon asked, a look of confusion on her face.

The guard frowned. "No. Due to the treaty signed by both President Luchenko and President Sheridan twenty years ago, the Rangers have . . ." he trailed off when he realized who was standing in front of him. He came stiffly to attention. "I'm sorry, sir, ma'am. I didn't recognize you."

"That is the general idea, Sergeant." my father said, his eyes taking in the rank of the man. "Why don't you finish answering the young woman's question?"

"Ah, yes sir." He turned to Shannon. "According to the treaty, the Rangers are allowed access to all none secure Earth holdings. They are to be allowed to carry weapons as long as they agree to only use them in self defence."

Shannon nodded. "That is as I remember reading." She looked at me and winked. "In that case, Sergeant, you need not worry. My big friend here, will take that promise. Won't you, Ranger Marcel?"

"Sure." His deep voice bubbled up out of his chest, filled with amusement. "I promise not to use my weapons unless called upon to defend myself, or another. Will that suffice, Sergeant? Because if not, we have a problem." He stood straighter and crossed his arms over his chest. The muscles in his arms flexed and he peered down at the much shorter security officer.

The man gulped and looked away. "That's more than sufficient, Ranger. I . . .do need to ask that you catalogue what you are carrying."

"I have my pike, and two daggers."

I looked Marcel over, trying to figure out where he could be hiding something as bulky as a dagger. The pike was being carried in a case attached to his belt.

"May I see your daggers?" He gulped again when Marcel stared down at him. "I really do have to know where you keep them, in case something happens to you."

Marcel finally nodded and crouched. He undid the clasp of his belt and took off the buckle. He then folded it in half. He pulled on the other end of the belt and a slim blade slide out. As it slide out of the leather-like material it became inflexible. He inserted the ornate end into the make shift handle.

"That's one." He said, handing it to the surprised sergeant. He then sat on the floor. He pulled off his shoe and took off the heel. He did the same to the other. He pushed the two together and there was a click as something locked. Next, he pushed forward on a section of the sole and a 7 inch blade slipped out of the front. He took the other shoe and did the same. Two smaller blades came out. He put the blades into the hilt. He then handed the three bladed dagger to the security guard. "And that is two."

I was impressed. I had know that he always went armed, but I had now idea where he kept the weapons. The way he had handled the daggers, I knew that he had used them before. And I shuddered to think about how and why he had needed to do so.

"The dagger I just handed you is called a 'd'k tahg'. The other is a 'ghonDoq'. They were given to me by a great warrior when he learned of my intent to leave the island we shared." Marcel licked his lips. "They have not left my possession since that day." His hands were clenching and unclenching and a drop of sweat was forming on his forehead.

The guard noticed his discomfort and handed the lethal blades back. "Thank you. Just, please. If you have to defend yourself. Stick to the pike. It will save us all of us some problems."

"I will try." Marcel said as we began walking again. He had wasted no time in replacing his knives in their hiding places.

"So David, who's idea was it to stick us in Bay 13?" my father asked and for a moment I wondered what he was talking about. Then I remembered that Captain Corwin's given name was also David.

The middle aged man grinned and winked. "Mine. I felt it was appropriate, given the particular bay's history."

"Are those rumours still going around? You would think that after this much time, people would have forgotten that nonsense."

The Captain shook his head. "No. The rumours are still out there. Not as many as there used to be, but they're still being spouted by the uninformed."

"What rumours?" asked Shannon before clapping her hands to her mouth, horrified that she had interrupted their conversation. The term 'living legend' is often overused now, but in the cases of my parents and their particular friends, it's probably not much of an overstatement.

The adults shared a private grin. They had, for the most part, known each other for the majority of the last 24 years. Sure, there were the odd ones that had known each other longer, like Uncle Mike and Aunt Lise, but they were balanced by the fact that Aunt Lise had only know the others for eighteen years. It was odd to think, but Aunt Lise and my father were among the last to join the group. My mother had been on station for a year before my father took command, and Uncle Mike, Mr. Allan and Captain Corwin had already been here when SHE had arrived.

"Well, tell the young woman Dave." my father said.

The captain turned to Shannon, who was still trying to hide behind her hands. "It's like this. Among human's and many races, the number 13 is considered unlucky. So when the station was built, no one wanted to use that bay. Eventually, the Vorlons signed on and sent an Ambassador. They requested the use of a bay for the Ambassador that none of the races would bother him. So the Captain, Sinclair I mean, he decided to assign them bay 13. His was the only ship allowed to dock in that bay for four years. Then Kosh, the Ambassador, was killed. A new Vorlon was sent, and he too used that bay."

The captain shuddered. "The second Vorlon was frightening. I never actually spoke to either, but I was in the room with Kosh a few times. The second one, who also claimed to be called Kosh, FELT different. He felt evil.

"Once we got rid of both the Vorlons and the Shadows, no one even wanted to go NEAR the bay. The dock workers and lurkers claimed that they heard 'voices', like two people talking but when they looked around, no one was there. A few people claim to have seen a Vorlon walking around in the bay. Now, since the Vorlon's were pretty secretive, there have been no real cohesive accounts of what this 'Vorlon' looked like. A few came close. But no one got it really right."

Kahlen frowned as she floated along beside me. "What did the Vorlons look like? The only descriptions I've ever heard was that they were beings of light with a shape pleasing to the eyes."

My father seemed to squirm uncomfortably. "Well. That's true. They could look like that. For a human, they would look like the classic definition of 'angels'. The same went for all the races. A winged being who had the face of the same race as the watcher. The Vorlons visited thousands of worlds and made sure that we would respond favourably to them when they finally revealed themselves."

"But in reality, they were beings of energy. They were not entirely energy. They had a form and substance." My mother had taken over where my father stopped. She had much more experience with Vorlons, despite my father's having carried one around in him for a while. "Their physical bodies were transparent and looked somewhat like an Earth sea creature -What are they called?" She turned to my father.

"Jellyfish?"

"Yes. The Vorlons looked like Earth jellyfish." Her eyes clouded for a moment and I knew what she was thinking about. She reached out and grabbed Shannon's hands. "Does that answer the question?" She held Shannon's hands comfortingly.

"Yes, Delenn." Shannon tried to avoid my mother's gaze. Though it had been Kahlen who asked, my mother recognized that the question originated with the shy worker.

I sighed and tried to help Shannon out of her discomfort. Speaking in the worker cast dialogue that she had been raised with, I struggled to find the words. "Shannon, please. There is no reason for you to be embarrassed. You asked a valid question. Remember what we have been taught. No one is better than another, be they Worker, Warrior, Religious, or alien. All are equal and all are valid. You have every right to ask what you did. If you had not, I would have.

"Or Kahlen would have thought of asking. Do not let the Warrior cast win. Do not let their opinions override your sense of self worth. We are Minbari. Be proud. The rest of society would collapse without the Workers. Your cast has built the world where the rest of us live. Without the Workers, do you think that we would be where we are today?"

She gave her head a small shake. "No."

I sighed. "Shannon, I am tired of this discussion. I am tired of your lack of confidence in yourself. If you can not believe in yourself, than you have no right to be a Ranger." I had tried everything else. Perhaps a little frankness was needed.

Shannon's face turned to me. Her eyes were flashing and her jaw was clenched. I could feel the anger inside of her. "I will do my best, as I once told you I would. I can not help the way I was raised, just as YOU can not escape YOUR history."

I nodded slightly. She made a good point. Though no one had ever come right out and said it, I had always known that I was being groomed to take over from my parents when they felt I was ready. I too, could read the prophecies and news reports.

And although I tried not to think about it, I knew that I had the potential to one day become the single most powerful person in the galaxy. If I wanted it and felt that I could handle the responsibility. It was a frightening thought and for now, all I wanted was to be a regular person with friends and a normal job. If being a Ranger could be called normal. Or a job instead of a lifestyle and duty.

We passed through the crowd. From the way my parents and family had talked about it, the corridor should have held at least twice as many people. Many of the shops and vendor stalls were also closed. The rumour about B5's shutdown flickered through my mind, but I ignored it. The excitement of seeing this place, where so much had happened to my family was all that I had room for at the moment. I swivelled my head around, trying to see as much as I could.

I noticed that Kahlen and Shannon were also looking around, trying to find likely shops in which to make their purchases. On the ship, my parents had handed me a credit slip. My father said that when he had heard my mother was pregnant, he had begun setting aside a small portion of his pay (*He gets paid?*, I had wondered. *Of course he gets paid.*) in an account on Babylon 5 for me. Through B5, the account was actually in a bank that had its headquarters on Mars. At this point, Uncle Mike chipped in and said that every year, on my birthday, he had deposited an amount equal to what was in the account. The current total, as of the day I got the card, was somewhere in the neighbourhood of four hundred thousand credits.

I almost choked when they told me this. By trainee standards, I was rich! That much money could last me a very long time. It wasn't like I actually had to buy anything. All my clothes, except for the ones picked out by Kahlen and Shannon that one time, were of Minbari origin and had been given to me by the Worker cast as tokens of their friendship. The only thing I ever really bought was food for myself and my friends. Our uniforms, pikes, and other supplies were provided us by the QuarterMaster from Central Academy. There were now several Ranger training bases on a half dozen worlds. There was even one on a Narn colony world not too far from Babylon 5.

Captain Corwin and Chief Allan brought us to a section of the station that had blue stripes on the walls. I remembered that the station had been designed so that each section was given a colour and number. So the room that I was shown to was 17 Blue 3. Marcel was in the room to my left, while Shannon was on my right, with Kahlen to her right. On Marcel's left was the room assigned to Mary. Uncle Mike and Aunt Lise were roomed across from Mary, while my parents were quartered in their old rooms two levels up. We agreed that we would get a little rest, wash up, and my parents would come gather us in six hours. Until then, if we did leave to go explore, we were to bring at least one other and we were also to bring a link, which Chief Allan handed us from a case he was carrying.

I entered the quarters and was pleasantly surprised to find that they were about the same size as the ones on the White Star. I put away my few belongings, and logged on to the Babcom unit. I studied the layout of the station with a practised eye. We are taught that half of our effectiveness comes from our ability to know enough about the layout of where ever we were sent, that we could find a place to hid should we need it. So I studied the station. There were quite a few places that were marked as off limits for tourists due to danger from assorted sources. The Zocalo, which we had passed on the way here, was clearly marked as the central area for most people to go.

Which made sense. It did contain the most vendors and stores that tourists would likely visit. It was also one of the more secure areas on station. I looked through the stations maps, trying to find a place Marcel might be interested in visiting. He wasn't much on safety or crowds.

After picking out a few likely spots DownBelow, I decided that I had time to do a little of personal research. I flipped through the stations, trying to find something interesting to listen to while I washed up and changed. I had been wearing this same set of clothes for almost 24 hours. I found a station that was showing a Narn opera and decided that it would do nicely. I undressed and stepped into the sonic shower. I was somewhat disappointed. I had grown used to always having hot water showers. In my entire life, I had only had to resort to sonic showers four times.

Once I finished, I pulled out one of the gifts that had been given me on my homecoming. It was an outfit in a casual style, cut similarly to my other clothing. It had been a gift from Uncle Mike and Aunt Lise. Uncle Stephen had given me the final touch by getting me a leather jacket. I put it on and tugged it lightly to rearrange the material. It felt heavier than most of what I had in the way of clothing.

I turned off the Babcom and tried to find where I had put my small stack of books. I found them in the most obvious place: the bookshelf over my bed. I lovingly caressed the spines, trying to pick one of the dog eared ancient novels. They had been my father's during his adolescence and before that, my grandfather's. Four generations of Sheridan's had handled these doorways into new worlds. I carefully slid out my favourite, and, propping my self with a cushion from the small couch, laid down on the bed to begin reading.

The opening words filled me with the same anticipation they had the first time I had read this book with my father.

"The primroses were over. Towards the edge of the woods, where
the ground became open and sloped down to an old fence and a
brambly ditch beyond, only a few fading patches of pale yellow
still showed among the dog's mercury and oak-tree roots. On the
other side of the fence, the upper part of the field was full of
rabbit holes."

Soon, I was in my own little world filled with the wonderful characters created almost three hundred years before I was born. Fiver, Hazel, BigWig and the others always relaxed me when I was tense.