Dalshon 9
Carla inched back up the hotel's sleeping platform. She missed her own platform on her ship, with the bed webbing. She had forgotten how hard it was to sleep without it.
There was really no reason she had to command the hunt from on station. She should go back to the ship soon anyway, to take her turn having her ship's doctor doublecheck the station's emergency decon. But if she were going to get radiation sickness, it would have happened already. And it was more important for the young people whose reproductive years were still ahead of them to make sure there was no genetic damage.
Carla had given up on that dream long ago. Earth nuthouses were still in the habit of handing out free hysterectomies.
Carla turned on her side and rubbed her eyes. Since she could not sleep anyway, maybe she should get up and let the youth on watch get some shuteye.
Firuun was on the next platform. He breathed more slowly than the other Minbari, as if his mutant height had shifted him into another category of animal, a great bear slumbering the winter away.
She should not watch him sleep. Minbari considered that to be an act of courtship. She should not invade his privacy that way.
But he looked so peaceful, sleeping. No, peaceful was not the right word. His sharp head bones were spiked like the crystalline towers of Minbar, elegant and deadly.
On the sleeping platforms, she could look across at him instead of up. It was a refreshing angle. But his imposing size and well muscled physique were still obvious, and the memory of his voice was a cannonade.
Carla could understand how Jador had decided Firuun was the apex of warrior evolution, the perfect male form, and the ideal foundation stock for her breeding program.
For a moment, Carla wondered what it would be like to be with Firuun. But she did not have to wonder; she knew exactly how it felt to be boned by a Minbari. That was her problem.
And no matter what else Firuun was—best friend, loyal first officer, great looking male, fun drinking buddy and excellent fighting companion—he was still Minbari. And no matter how hard she tried, Carla knew she was really never going to get over it.
Having them all around her was one thing. Having one inside her was quite another.
Even if he was handsome. Damn.
One of her crewmembers entered the sleeping room. He whispered, "Captain? Are you awake?"
She slid off the sleeping platform and followed him into the other room.
At first she did not quite understand what she saw. It appeared to be a Minbari tart tied to a chair.
The strange Minbari had on a filmy golden dress, just transparent enough to see the pale blue brocade of the corset underneath. Then Carla noticed the false headpiece, hanging partway off, and the distinctly male—if rather short—knobs of the real head bone beneath it.
Carla burst out laughing. "Oh my God! It's Lennier. In drag."
She approached and studied the deserter. Then she stuck the tiara appliance firmly back onto his head. "Suits you," Carla told him. She studied the rest of his costume. And she could see it all, since the dress was see-though and Lennier had been secured with his wrists tied to the arms of the chair and his ankles tied to the chair legs. "Where did you hide… Oh. I see. Gives 'corset boning' a whole new meaning." Carla snickered.
Lennier said quietly, "This disguise did fool your warriors until one of them pulled the tiara off by accident."
"Yes, you make quite a passable female," Carla chuckled. She switched to English. "I trust my crew haven't been too HARD ON you, have they?"
Lennier apparently did not get the joke. It would be meaningless in Minbari.
That was just as well. Carla was uncomfortable with using that style of questioning, even if Lennier's attire had suggested it.
She turned serious. "What are you doing on Untika?"
"Running. Hiding. That's what fugitives do."
Carla turned to the warriors who had brought Lennier in. "Good work. Wake up Khunnier, too. I shouldn't start the interrogation without him."
When Khunnier came in, he did not laugh, although he boggled a bit, and walked all around Lennier. They looked quite similar, both being religious caste, and therefore of slighter build and with less prominent head bones than the military caste Minbari that Carla was used to seeing.
Then he said, "Please tell me he was like this when we found him."
Carla laughed again. "Oh, yes." Then she sobered. "I promise I'm not turning into Inoja." Actually, Inoja had never cross-dressed her captive male. Carla got a sudden mental image of Sheridan, in a corset… No. Ick.
Khunnier asked the deserter, "Did you have anything to do with the bombing?"
"No," Lennier replied, startled.
Khunnier nodded as if telling himself he was off to a good start. "Have you issued any loribond commands concerning yourself?"
"What?"
"Such as 'do not look for me', perhaps?"
"Oh. No."
Khunnier started listing all the possible variants he could think of. Lennier denied them all.
After about an hour of this, Khunnier ran down.
"What do you think?" Carla asked.
"There is a problem," Khunnier said. "As you know, generally, Minbari do not lie. However, when the news of Lennier's desertion went through the Anla'shok, it was accompanied by comments on his history and character. Including a conversation captured on a Babylon 5 secure-cam between Lennier and an annoying human waiting in the port lounge. Lennier claimed to be dying of a contagious disease, to get rid of the annoying human. He is a proven liar."
"Oh. That's too bad." Carla sighed. "Well. See what you can do with him."
End of Chapter 9
