Dear all,

Very sorry about lack of writings over the last few months. I almost gave up. Then my inner Marcus became very animated… and those of you who also have an inner Marcus must know that he DOESN'T SHUT UP! So here you are. I return. The next chapter should be ready as soon as I proof read.

Ranger

"And?" John asked as Susan entered the council room, running a few minutes behind everyone else.

"I finally got through to the president," She began, noting G'kar was still hammering out the final draft of the declaration of principles. She prayed that President Luchenko wouldn't be insistent on reading through another draft. "She said she'll speed things up."

John shook his head, unable to contain his frustration. Susan shared a look with Delenn, who half smiled apologetically for her husbands' impatientness.

"It's not good enough," He commented, his mood worsening with the minute.

"It's all I can do!" Susan protested. "I waited to talk to her for an hour and even then she wanted to cut me short." Resigned, she sunk into her usual chair on the council. "Anybody else feel like they're sitting in a tree and somebody's throwing rocks at them?"

Delenn backtracked to the topic of conversation before Susan had entered the room- "We may be able to get the Pak'Ma'Ra on board to help but they are going to need something in exchange."

"Oh, offer them my body," Londo helpfully suggested. "Another ten minutes of this and I'll be dead anyway."

""I second the motion," G'kar added not looking up from his papers.

"Third- and I'll come with you." Ivanova added- feeling like she needed a vacation from this year already.

She watched as G'kar paused, as if a mist had come over him and he started scribbling furiously on the paper.

"Another idea." Delenn explained as G'kar seemed to become completely oblivious to what was going on.

"Alright," John continued, happy to let G'kar continue with half an ear on the situation. "I believe Michael has a suggestion he'd like to put before us."

Michael sat up, aware that all eyes but G'kars were on him. He was pretty sure of his idea- it seemed pretty sound to him.

"Okay. A few weeks ago- You allowed a group of telepaths to set up home in brown sector after they helped save your life Mr President. They said at the time that they were willing to earn their keep rather than-" Michael stopped himself before he said something extremely politically incorrect. Here was not the place.

"And-" Sheridan urged him on, rather than pondering on where he was going with the final remark.

"Weeeell," Michael stated, rolling the first word around his tongue. "I was filtering through some reports from the rangers and it occurred to me that- well, despite how through and detailed they are- they never have all the information possible."

Susan had a hunch on where this was going- and she didn't like it. It seemed like a bad idea from the get go. From her experience of Byron and his people they'd tell Garibaldi to take a flying leap.

"I think I know where this is going," John commented as soon as he was sure of where Garibaldi was going.

"I want your permission to use some of these telepaths to gather intelligence on our behalf."

"Michael, I don't have to tell you that's illegal." John chided, knowing that his presidency being linked to illegality was a little more than undermining.

"Only if you're in the Psi-Corp, which they certainly aren't, and neither are we. Hell, it's not like all telepaths are." Michael argued his point, having anticipated this response from Sheridan. "The Centari have been using military teeps for… well since the great old days."

"Thank you." Londo smiled; glad to see the glory of the Centari republic was recognised by more than himself.

"You're welcome. Anyway, the point is- if others are doing, and we're outside of earth jurisdiction then why put ourselves at a disadvantage? Look, I'm not big on teeps, and I'm not big on guns either. But if everyone else has one then I want to be sure I've got the biggest one I can get my hands on. Look, we've helped these people- they owe us and said they'd pay us back."

"They won't agree." Susan mumbled, more to herself than the group, also focused on Michaels comment on guns. She was pretty sure Michael did like his guns, but it was a minor point to quibble.

"What?" Garibaldi asked, genuinely not hearing what she had said.

"The telepaths." Ivanova continued, now realising she had to be careful what she said. "They've been hounded by the Corps their whole lives. All they want to do is have a quiet existence. They won't like being recruited- they don't trust normals."

"What makes you think that?" Sheridan added, wondering how Susan had suddenly become so knowledgeable on such things.

"Just a guess." She said quickly, knowing how suspect that sounded as soon as the words left her mouth.

Sighing, having a dilemma in knowing both Michael and Susan were right Sheridan thought for a moment. "Michael, we know there is a crisis coming between telepaths and normals. I let them on board figuring that we could keep them in our back pocket until they were needed."

"And all I'm saying is let's move them to the front pocket. Why not use what we've got until waiting until the last moment. They said they wanted to work- what better job could they do? Maybe they'll say no- all I want to do is have the conversation with their leader."

"Byron." Susan added almost thoughtlessly. John could see she was a million miles away.

"Yeah. If he's game- great." Michael continued, not seeing Susans' lack of concentration on the subject. "If he's not- oh well. Nothing wrong with asking, is there?"

Susan looked up to see Byron standing over her. She eyed him suspiciously, not that there was much point in creating this pretence- it wasn't as if she could hide anything from him.

"Captain," he greeted her formally seemingly for the ears of everyone else on the Zocalo, very formally considering the events of their last meeting. His mind seemed to turn back to the events and a smile came to his lips and he spoke with lower volume to his voice. "Susan."

"Byron." She nodded her head as he sat down uninvited. He hadn't approached her; he wasn't sure how appropriate it was for him to be seen with her- especially in private. Bothering her in public simply made him look like a pestilence upon her.

He leaned back in the chair, aware that he was probably being watched by more than one member of security. "I haven't seen you since-" He considered for a moment, "… well. Since." He concluded with.

"I've been busy." Susan remarked, not making eye contact and continually starring down at the status reports on the table.

"What's wrong" She heard his voice inside her head, tender, concerned.

I'm sorry- what happened- it was a mistake. She replied without opening her mouth, although her eyes met his.

He reached across and picked up the pitcher of water on the table, pouring himself a glass. "Is that why you left?" He whispered.

"No." She shook her head in half truth, "I had to get back."

Byron sighed and leaned back in his chair, she heard his voice in her head again as he sipped his water. You've had second thoughts about what happened. I'm sorry. I feel like I've taken advantage.

"No, not at all." She said out loud, suddenly aware she was reply to a comment that made her seem as if she were talking to herself. It's not possible Byron. It would never work.

He sighed again and nodded his head. She was right of course; he'd have been insane to have thought otherwise.

After a moment of silence that appeared to close the subject, Byron began to talk again. "Are you aware that Mr Garibaldi came to see us?"

"Yes. I told him it wasn't such a great idea."

He smiled, actually amused that his intuition about Garibaldi had been so correct. "I assumed as much." He saw the apologetic look on her face, knowing that she could not have stopped him without drawing attention to the subject of her and the other telepaths. "Don't worry, what little harassment we received seems insignificant to what we have already lived through."

Everything sucked as far as Marcus was concerned. Life was a bitch. He refused to lay the long line of reasoning around his head that had lead him to his conclusion- it was all rather messy and specific- but in general the universe did not like him.

Standing up top of the Zocalo he looked down on the world of Babylon 5. Petty shop lifters, shopkeepers peddling cheap and nasty jewellery, clothes and knickknacks. People coming, people going, the occasional drunk, a couple of security. Even the monks were out today.

Some life being a monk, Marcus thought to himself. What a lousy existence. No sex life, No clothing choice, no possessions… It was only then he realised he was so unbelievably close to describing his own life. Dear God that was depressing. But the being a monk meant you had god, something to fall back on should your life turn to shit. In his own life Marcus had- well- bugger all really. He supposed that was the major draw back of being an atheist- he believed in nothing, had no faith in anything and had the reality that he would probably die a terrible painful death with no afterlife to continue into.

Bloody hell- how depressing.

Marcus had started the day by rising at one O'clock in the afternoon through no intension of his own. He'd then made breakfast, poked it with a spoon for the next forty-five minute before taking a few bites and throwing it away. It wasn't enough to sustain him through the day, but it was about all he could force down. Solid food was a problem. Actually, just food for the most part was an issue- even soup made him gag. But right then his attention wavered to the conversation that was happening over his shoulder, his ears pricked up as he heard Zack Allen walk past, discussing top secret information as always at audible volume with another member of the security forces.

"Sheridan wants to show these raiders that they aint getting away with it. I mean, who else has got the balls to go and do that?"

Marcus hesitated for a moment. He was aware that a white star had arrived back in less than complete form with only living crew member on board. It didn't take a teep to realise that the white stars were being mobilised. Turning away from the scene, he went to find Delenn.

He found the ambassador in the garden, walking among trees. For once the computer was accurate. She turned and smiled when she saw him, though she thought to herself that it may come to this.

"Delenn," He greeted her respectfully, despite his eagerness.

"Hello Marcus." She replied, having an unpleasant feeling toward the subject of this conversation.

"I heard you're mobilising the White Stars." He commented, deciding to verify his information before making any kind of rash request.

"To protect a small world on the edge of Drazi space. All but twelve and Seventeen are gone, and they will be as soon as they've refuelled." She informed, knowing that the information passed to Marcus may have been more than second hand, as he was certainly not briefed officially on the situation.

"Let me go with them." He asked, letting his intensions out in the open.

"Marcus-" She began her denial of his request, she didn't have to be a Doctor to know that his state of health was no-where near acceptable. She had already considered sending Marcus back to Minbar to see if the healers there had any ideas on how to treat him, but she guessed that his leaving the station might be more damaging to his health than rewarding at present.

"It could be dangerous-" He began, trying desperately to convince Delenn that he was still an asset. That he wasn't finished yet, "Suppose they need a fleet commander on hand?"

Delenn shook her head, trying to seem sympathetic with being patronising. "I'm afraid they'll have to do without one. You're not well enough, maybe in a few months if-"

Marcus cut her off mid sentence, not particularly meaning to be rude, but he'd already lived through "a few months." If he didn't get back to work soon, he doubted he ever would. "A few months! Delenn I've been cooped up since December- I'm going to start eating the flowers off the wallpaper soon."

As amused as she was by that idea, Delenn didn't laugh. She touched Marcus on the arm, wishing that if she told Marcus how dear he was to her, he wouldn't take it as her simply softening the blow of letting him down. "I'm sorry, but I can't risk sending you, not in your current condition."

She shuffled awkwardly, trying to leave as she saw his face fall. She didn't want to discuss it further; it would only bring more pain about for Marcus. "We'll talk later, I promise."

Almost lost in the world, Marcus staggered back to the Zocalo. He stood where he had less than half and hour ago, wondering if he ever had any hope that Delenn would have granted his request. She was right of course, but that made it much worse rather than better. Was he completely useless? As far as he was concerned yes. It was a bad moment for him to see Susan with Byron sitting below, rising to their feet.
Stay tuned-