Chapter 3 Investigations

Next chapter. Thank you very much for the interest and support.

I am not affiliated with any of those who own Babylon 5 and Supernatural and I'm not making any profit from this.

Earhart

Next day, while having breakfast with Susan Ivanova and the doctor, Garibaldi decided to approach Franklin about the progress of his research.

"So, found anything in the end, Doc?" he wanted to know.

"A lot of hokum," Franklin replied, without taking his attention from his meal.

"Right about now I would take even hokum if it gives me a cause of death for our guy," Garibaldi confessed. "So give."

Franklin was silent for a few moments. He stood chewing thoughtfully. He finished his bite deliberately slow, then set his fork on the table.

"Look," he began, "The only thing I could find linking sulphur with unexplained death and the black smoke Mr Allen's eyewitnesses claim they saw is just as I said: hokum. There are a few urban legends about sulphur being apparently linked to demon possession."

Ivanova rolled her eyes at Franklin's somewhat reluctant pronouncement.

"It's going to be one of those days, then," she muttered.

Franklin chuckled, shaking his head.

"Hey, did I actually say I believed it?" he defended himself. "I'm just reporting my findings as the good Chief of Security asked me to. Mind you, that doesn't mean that somebody who knew the legends didn't make this guy's death seem related to demon possession."

"What, you mean like some sort of ritual?" Garibaldi inquired.

Franklin shrugged.

"I wasn't trained to solve crimes, Michael," Franklin reminded him mildly. "I just practice medicine."

Garibaldi snorted. He took the hint.

"Right. Well, from what Zack was telling me, our victim broke into the quarters of three alien travellers. I had him search what these travellers had in common – they were different species and had different backgrounds. Now apparently, they all saw vendors in the Zocalo."

Ivanova looked at Garibaldi sceptically. She did not see that particular discovery as such a big lead.

"Everyone here sees vendors in the Zocalo," she pointed out reasonably. "Even you do."

Garibaldi inclined his head accepting Ivanova's point.

"Yeah, but how many of us go to vendors of "deeply symbolic objects, talismans of power and important religious artefacts of various cultures"?" Garibaldi asked. "At least that's what one of the vendors advertises his business. But you get the idea."

"What kind of religious artefacts?" Franklin wanted to know. "From Earth?"

"From all over," Garibaldi corrected. "All three vendors had newly-acquired merchandise of human origin when the alien delegates had visited them, though. One of them – a Markab – said he had one of the most powerful objects in the world."

Both Ivanova and Franklin snickered.

"I've heard that one before," Ivanova said. "It's called the let's-impress-the-easily-influenced-and-make-them-pay-a-fortune-for-an-insignificant-bauble manoeuvre. I thought a man with your experience would spot it."

"Did you buy it?" Franklin could not help asking. "The most powerful object in the universe, do you have it on you?"

"That's hilarious," Garibaldi snapped. "I know about scammers. I don't doubt the Markab was one too. But maybe someone was easily fooled. Maybe someone really believes in this stuff."

"And decides what?" Franklin inquired. "To commit murder and make it look like demon possession? To what end?"

Garibaldi had to admit that Franklin was right. There was no motive for anyone acting the way it did. Unless someone was trying to send a message. Not to Garibaldi and the security, because they could not have understood it and even if they had, they would have scoffed at it. The message was for someone else, someone who could get the implications and even believe them. In other words, there were other wackos on the station.

"I hate it when they're crazy," Garibaldi muttered. "Give me a good old-fashioned Dust smuggler or a weapons dealer or a hired assassin. These I can understand. These I have no problem catching. The crazy ones, though, that's completely different."

McBurry's

Dean was on edge. He had been so since his talk with the Minbari Ambassador the previous day. After Delenn had all but told him that she knew he was not Dean Parks and she knew he was not doing a documentary and then had promptly mentioned Brakiri legends and Hunters out of the blue, Dean had decided the best course of action was for him and Sam to lay low in their rooms for the day. If anyone had said something was suspicious about them and the Babylon 5 security was tracking them, it would be best if they did not see the two wandering through the station. If anyone came to get them in their room and put them in the brig – well, Dean had thought grimly – they had escaped from worse places before.

But no one had come for them that day. Which prompted the two to resume their interrupted investigation the following morning – after breakfast at McBurry's, per Dean's suggestion and to Sam's annoyance. They had met plenty of security personnel en route, but none of them had taken any notice of the two brothers. That had to mean that Delenn had not reported anything suspicious about the two of them – such as the fact that they had faked their identities to get on the station. Still, Dean could not let his guard down. No matter how much he tried to deny it, he had the feeling that the indirect confrontation was a prelude to something.

"If she was really confronting you," Sam pointed out. "Maybe you've read too much in what she was saying. Maybe her mention of Hunters was completely coincidental."

Sam himself was aware that it was highly unlikely to be so. It never was only a coincidence with them, anyway. Still someone had to play devil's advocate – and didn't that expression bring up whole different meanings when it came to Dean and himself. By the look on Dean's face he could see that the latter knew Sam was not really buying his own theory.

"OK," Sam accepted. "You're right she was letting you know she knew more about you than you thought she did. But how? And why? Why mention it to you in the first place?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders. He himself did not much care how Delenn had found out about Hunters and how she had come to the conclusion that Dean was one. If she had indeed reached that conclusion on her own. Someone could have told her. In which case there was someone else on the station who knew Sam and Dean's real identity. Things just kept getting better and better. As to why Delenn had mentioned to Dean that she suspected something about him…well, Dean attribute all kinds of motives to that, ranging from intimidation to blackmail.

"Maybe she wants to tell me she has her eyes on me," he said thoughtfully. "Like a be careful cause I'm watching you kind of deal. One wrong move and I spill the beans on you."

"Do you think it has to do with the talisman?" Sam wanted to know. "Do you think she knows we're after it?"

Dean shook his head at that.

"Dude, we don't even know we're after it," he pointed out. "All we have is something you might have heard between the Centauri Ambassador and that dude that was with him."

"Morden," Sam specified. "He was…strange. Guy looked like a run of the mill business man. Acted like one too. But…"

Here Sam paused and tapped his fingers against the table thoughtfully. His instincts had been warning him about Morden ever since he had set eyes on the man. There was something about him. Nothing overt, true. To the untrained observer Morden looked nothing if not respectable. He did not look at all dangerous. But he had to be. Sam remembered the way Londo had looked at the mysterious Morden and that was enough to tell him he had to be.

"Let me ask you something," Sam began. "When have you seen an alien diplomat of Londo's status listen to what a human is telling him to do?"

"Just about never," Dean answered. "Do you think he's working with the demon that supposedly was possessing that dude in Downbelow?"

Sam thought about that for a while. It was plausible. But he did not really believe it. He shook his head. He saw that Dean had not been completely sold on the idea either.

"Yeah, I thought so too," Dean confessed. "If he was the demon, he would have told Mollari to fetch the talisman for him instead of staying away from it."

"I wonder why he did that," Sam mused. "Tell Mollari he can't have a piece of the talisman, that is."

Dean had no answer for that. He was sure, though, that whatever reasons Morden had from keeping the talisman away from Mollari, they had nothing to do with Sam and Dean's business. They had already speculated the talisman could offer more advantages than even Cas knew. And some of these advantages were no business of theirs. Therefore, Morden's reasons for preventing the Centauri from using the talisman were also no business of theirs.

"Let's just focus on our kind of job, Sammy," Dean urged. "Leave whatever beef Mollari and Morden have with each other for someone else."

Sam had nothing to say in reply to that. He had not told Dean that he had felt a certain understanding for the Centauri Ambassador. Sam still remembered that he had thought he had seen something of himself – the old version of himself, the one before Hell – in Londo Mollari. At any rate, Sam was certain that he could recognise desperation anywhere and that was exactly what Londo was: desperate. Why, Sam had no idea. It surely had to do with the Narn war. And it was no business for Earth Hunters, just as Dean had tried to tell him. Nonetheless, Sam could not help being curious. But Dean was right about one thing. Whatever was going on had nothing to do with what Sam and Dean usually did. And since it was not their area of expertise, they could not get involved in it. They could only try fixing the things they had been trained to fix – and that kept them busy enough, without the need to interfere in any other affairs.

"All right," Sam agreed. "So what's the course of action now? Look for the talisman? But how? I mean, where do we start?"

"I think some good old-fashioned field work could help," Dean said. "How about we hit the Zocalo and any other trading places? Talk to the vendors, try to get them to tell us whether any of the objects they have might come with some kind of history."

It was the best course of action, of course. But Sam could see a flaw in it.

"You know they're all gonna say everything they have comes with history, Dean," he pointed out. "It's how they sell their junk to gullible visitors."

Dean pushed his plate aside and got up. He did not seem that bothered with Sam's information.

"Well, that's why I have you with me," he replied. "Spot what's only hokum meant to make tourists empty out their pockets and recognise anything genuine. You're the research genius after all."

Sam stared at his brother unable to make up his mind whether Dean was being serious or just pulling his leg.

"I…am?" he asked in the end.

Dean grinned and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Why else d'you think I still keep you around?" he countered easily.

Ambassador Delenn's quarters

Delenn was on a video call with the Brakiri Ambassador. Ambassador Lethke had at first been puzzled that Delenn was calling him instead of simply seeking him out and talking to him face to face. Delenn preferred face to face communication, after all. But when Delenn had promptly started to ask him about a practice that Lethke had thought few other than the Brakiri knew about, his surprise turned to irritation.

"I do not understand," he confessed bluntly. "You have no interest in this matter. Why ask me about Hunters? We do not talk about Hunters."

Delenn raised her eyebrows at that. She supposed she should have been grateful for the fact that Lethke at least had not tried to deny the fact that he knew about Hunters altogether.

"I am afraid I am the one who does not understand," Delenn replied calmly. "From what I gathered, Ambassador, your people use these Earth Hunters quite often. They even reward them for their services."

"Some Brakiri do that," Lethke admitted in the end. "The more…uncivilised classes. Those of us who are more educated find the need to employ Hunters an embarrassment. It is a practice that we cannot actually condemn, but we do not talk about it. Especially not to other races. We find that it makes us lose face."

Delenn tried not to show her impatience. The Markab who had come to her with a warning about two people on the station and vague hints and legends had also refused to give too many details. He had done it out of superstition and fear and the idea that simply talking about something would bring shame upon him. The Brakiri Ambassador also refused to say too much. This time, the motive had more to do with personal reputation. The Ambassador wanted to save face. Delenn refrained from pointing out that Lethke would have sounded less suspicious if he simply answered her questions instead of pretending to know only slightly what she was talking about.

"In that case do you think you can get hold of one these – as you call them – "uncivilised" Brakiri and ask him to bring me some information on Hunters?" Delenn asked instead.

Lethke hesitated. No doubt he was wondering what Delenn's game was. Delenn was actually asking herself the same thing. She did not know why she was so keen on finding out more. Yet the story that the hysterical Markab had brought to her two days before had piqued her interest.

"You know, Delenn," Lethke said at length. "I fail to see why you are so eager to learn more about this superstition. But I will do what I can. I'll have someone come talk to you."

Delenn inclined her head.

"Thank you, Ambassador," she said, then, driven by instinct she went on, carefully watching the Brakiri's reaction: "Oh, and when you do find someone, tell them I want information on one topic in particular – tell them I want to know about Winchester."

Something flashed in the Brakiri Ambassador's face. There was worry there for a brief moment as well as surprise. He tried to cover it but he was not quick enough. Delenn had seen it. She knew now that, even though the Brakiri claimed not to agree with the practice of consulting Hunters, he was also very much informed about any rumours involving them.

The call terminated. Delenn shook her head. She did not know why she was taking this road. If the young reporter that had come to see her the previous morning and his brother were not who they said they were, surely that was not a matter to earn the interest of the Minbari Ambassador? That was Earth business, mostly. At best, she could inform John Sheridan and let him take care of things. At worst, she could just ignore the whole story.

Somehow, she could do neither. Ignoring it and dismissing it as an Earth matter was not a good course of action. Dean Parks – or was it Winchester? – had sought her out. During that time his brother had been talking to Londo Mollari. Why? If the Markab who had recognised them was right and the two were lying about making a documentary, why were they talking to the alien diplomats? What did they hope to accomplish?

Why wasn't she going to Sheridan with this, then? As the governor of Babylon 5, he deserved to know if there were any threats to the security of the station. And two people lying about their identity and questioning diplomats under false pretences felt very much like a threat.

But Delenn had decided reporting on the two would not be wise, not yet, at least. For one, the only proof she had were the vague hints of a frightened Markab. For another, if the Markab was really right and if the two really were Hunters that it must have been their job that had brought them to Babylon 5. And from what Delenn had heard Hunters dealt with – even if she was not sure she should believe such things or, at least, take them literally – it seemed that hindering them from doing their jobs might have grave consequences for the station. Which was why Delenn had decided to do nothing as of yet – just watch and gather more information.

Actually, if the two really had pure motives, Delenn would have gladly provided them with assistance in any form she would have been capable of giving – which was mostly offering information or interfering on their behalf to channels regular visitors did not normally have access to. She had hinted that much to Dean, that they could come to her and she would help willingly, provided they renounced any subterfuges. But now, remembering the brief flash of indignation on the young man's face, Delenn realised that he had not taken her hints as an offer to help. He had actually taken them as a threat. It was sad, Delenn mused, that someone so young had been programmed to detect threats in every little thing.

There was the other brother, though. The one who had apparently gone to talk to Londo Mollari. Delenn decided to get Lennier to ask Vir Cotto about him. Perhaps he was easier to approach.

With that, Delenn turned to a recommendation she had been working on about a trade agreement with a new alien race. She had, after all, her usual obligations as ambassador to perform. She could not afford dwelling on distractions too much.