CHAPTER TWO

A few days passed and with the Bluestar's advanced AI in flight control David was free to share a meal with his crewmates. The ship's interior was a typical minimalist Minbari affair, light grey tones to the walls, floor and furniture and a light blue haze to the lighting set it apart from the Whitestar fleet. Due to the expectations of a small crew compliment a low-ceiling communal eating and sleeping area also doubled as a training / sparing area.

The company David kept now was very similar to that he had his entire short life: Minbari. Ryell was a female Minbari who, like most Minbari women, disguised her physical and mental strength behind a soft exterior. She was of the religious caste by birth and had had little explicit religious training prior to joining the Anla'Shok. She was the Minbari equivalent to David's age and the two had attended Ranger training together. David had found her less stoic and more outgoing than some of the religious caste and the two shared a bond over their sense of humor. David had watched her develop in parallel from a shy youngster to a formidable opponent with a Denn'Bok. Rumors had long circled about the potential for a romantic relationship between the two but both had always denied this behind bright red blushes.

The table from which the crew ate, held briefings and (had been known to) host games of chance, was set out in a triangular shape; with each side being slightly curved inward. At each side sat a crewmate. David on one, Ryell another and the final side occupied by a Minbari of the warrior caste.

Dulann, a Minbari veteran of the conflict with The Hand some years prior, had been a mentor to both the younger Rangers during their training. This was something David had been particularly grateful for as most shied away from him due to his lauded heritage, his time spent amongst the Drakh on Centauri Prime, or both. Dulann had always seemed unphased by this and despite being many years his senior still had a youthful exuberance that many older Minbari had lost.

David had been able to be truthful to both parents regarding his crew selection and both his Mother and Father had anticipated him selecting a small crew to share this task with as opposed to taking the Bluestar out solo, which the vessel was more than capable of. David had inherited his father's Human need for contact and his youth meant he still hadn't become completely comfortable alone in his own company for too long. It had raised the first smile David had seen in a while from John when he had told him Ryell was to be aboard.

"Remember you're sharing that sleeping area with Dulann as well," his father had said with a rye smile. That type of smile a father reserved to only bestow upon a son when discussing such matters.

The three reviewed data on Cestus 3 from the Excalibur's previous mission on the table holographic display as they ate. The mood was light, despite the lack of tangible results, although David was starting to feel as if the light mood was being forced a little by those present. Not for the first time that day David caught himself rubbing the scar left behind by the Keeper. A nervous habit he had broken for the most part but one that surfaced during times of aguish. The keeper, a Drakh that had had long plagued one Emporer Londo Mollari had attached itself to David, this; even now, was the one defining time of David's life. There was a physical scale that was true, but a mental one had been cut much deeper.

"The Cestans," Dulann was saying, "Do have a curious aversion to leaving their planet. It highly probable that the element that grants them their longevity is something that cannot be exported."

"Longevity? You mean eternal life?" Ryell sought to correct.

Dulann was shaking his head, the young had a tendency to immediately go to the extremes. "I do no believe in eternal life. Merely extreme longevity. Eternal life implies they cannot die. By Lorien's own words his race could die, if by accident or act of murder, but naturally they could not age to a point where their cells stopped reproducing."

Dulann looked at his audience, "Hence extreme longevity."

"Do you think we'll find something here that can help my D…" David caught himself, "Anla'Shok'Na." His father had requested he try and use the title around others, rather than a familiar. A strange request when you considered the mission they were on was a personal vanity.

"When the medical experts aboard the Excalibur couldn't fashion anything for the Drakh plague?"

"The Drakh plague and the affliction of the Anla'Shok'Na are two completely separate entities David," Dulann reasoned. "Despite us using the Excalibur's logs as a route plotter of sources does not mean where they found no cure we will not."

David nodded, he knew that. He'd figured that out himself, and had Dulann explain it to him the same way a half dozen times before as well.

"We know what this will come down to," David continued, he was the only one really free to speak his mind. "We'll end up having to try and contact the First Ones again." The First Ones, of course, now only inhabited the space between galaxies to leave the interstellar nurseries vacant to encourage new life and new civilizations to develop and flourish, and all attempts to contact them since their departure beyond the rim in 2262 has been unsuccessful. Many expeditions continued throughout the galaxy, trying to recover the leftovers from these goliaths, some were successful, others weren't, but no one had ever been successful in actually asking the First Ones a question.

"It's what I told them both," he almost pouted now as he recalled the conversations he had had with both parents as they simultaneously gave him this mission. He'd pleaded with them to simply attempt to reach the First Ones again and ask for more time; 20 years had not been enough, there was still so much more Sheridan could do, so much more time David needed his father alive for.

David's feelings on this issue didn't come from a place of frustration with the mission itself. Dulann and Ryell knew as much. It was a frustration at himself for having wasted so many years on Centauri Prime. The fact that this had not really been David's choice, more an impulse driven by the Keeper, never did much to comfort him.

David was rubbing that scar again.

"It may well be," Ryell said, she lent forward and made eye contact: a Human would have reached her hands across the table and taken David's.

"But we need to exhaust these other avenues of enquiry first," her arguments were always rational David had to give her that.

"We do," David nodded in agreement, he caught himself rubbing the scar and forcefully pushed his hands into his pants pockets.

As if having travelled at the undefined speed of plot the three were brought to notice that they had arrived at their destination by the familiar jolt of hyperspace exit (The violence of this maneuver was almost impossible to damper in a vessel of this size) and an announcement from the soft toned AI voice.

Dulann rose and cleared the table of the remaining eating implements and Ryell and David headed to the bridge. As was Minbari-Human design tradition only the Captain had a chair. David took this and paused a moment to appreciate the green orb suspended in a sea of black that was Cestus 3.

"Incoming communication," Ryell announced standing to David's right and working a small computer terminal set into the handrail.

Dulann entered now, assuming a station in symmetry with Ryell.

"It's from Cestus 3."

Without waiting for a prompt to bring it to the viewer Ryell had worked some controls and viewer particles shimmered down from the ceiling, forming a picture as they went. An older male Cestan appeared on the screen, his forehead was smooth, but long bonelike ridges ran from the corners of his mouth to his eyes, and, like most things on Cestus 3, he was green. Some Cestans, the records said, were greener than others, but they were all green. Ironically their species was color blind.

"Welcome to Cestus 3, I am Chief Counsel Nevar Calaas, authorized representative to speak with offworlders.

Diplomacy wasn't a part of standard Ranger training but, as it had turned out his father had been quite the adept politician, and this apple didn't fall far from the tree.

"Chief Counsel, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am David Sheridan, this is Ryell and Dulann," he gestured to his shipmates as he spoke. "We represent the Interstellar Alliance."

"Ah," the Chief Counsel nodded, "We heard tales of your Alliance from the last set of offworlders to visit us. Although they were all a lot more Human than your crew appears to be." David assumed he referenced the Excalibur's arrival, sure that Victory Class vessel had been of ISA build and design but it had been flying under the colors of Earth Alliance for its mission to save Humanity.

"We hope that what you have heard speaks well of us," David was channeling his inner-ambassador now.

"It does," Reijal conceded, he was smiling; and whilst it wasn't the cold smile of someone who'd take pleasure in your gruesome death it was also not the warm smile of that neighbor inviting you in for some beer on the porch on a sticky southern summer evening.

"How can we be of assistance to you and your crew? We prefer not to have offworlders come to the surface of our world but we could be happy to resupply your vessel so that you may be on your way?" The Counsel was fishing now, hoping this stray vessel could be bought off and sent on it's way quickly.

For those watching carefully, perhaps a Cestan Security Service of some sort, they would've seen that David's smile faltered for just a moment. Blink and you'd miss it. Even in the 23rd Century the nature – nurture debate raged on; David had inherited his father's smile, his mother's sincerity, his father's poise and tactfulness and his mother's curiosity and confidence. Nurture is a word with mostly positive connotations but it reality it is a catch all term for life experience, and David's short life had been dominated by very strong experience. His joyful early childhood, the intensity of his Ranger training, the time spent on Centauri Prime and now this clandestine mission, would be enough to have an overwhelming influence on a seasoned adult let alone an adolescent.

David's scar was itching. "Chief Counsel I respectively request an audience with your top medical professionals. We believe they could be of some help to our current mission."

Unlike David, Nevar Calaas's smile never faltered. Was it the additional years experience forcing a smile? Like the veteran Air Steward greeting everyone aboard. "Perhaps this was not logged by your people before," Nevar Calaas said; "But our people have no need for Doctors of any kind."

David's smile was fading, his scar was itching now and it was taking more concentration to save from scratching it. "That is exactly what we were hoping to discuss. You see it is of a medical nature that we come. I'm authorized to offer something in exchange for – "

Nevar Calaas cut him off, "We have no need for anything that you may have." The Chief Counsel's smile was fading fast now, at roughly the same pace his tone was darkening. "Our world…" he pulled an expression of one trying to remember what other movie you knew that actor from, "what did they call it? Ah, Our world is an Eden. A Garden of Eden. We have everything we need."

David had given in and was scratching at the scar now, "You are refusing to help us?" he asked bluntly.

Nevar Calaas grimaced, an offended face rather than a disgusted one. "Perhaps that doesn't translate very well young man."

The scar was now way beyond itching, it was burning hot. Young Man, David was practically chewing the words.

"But I think refusing is a little strong a term. We just do not believe we have anything to offer you and you do not have anything to offer us." Nevar Calaas's face was now stoic, a teacher scolding a student. "We do not wish offworlders to come to our planet's surface, the same as we do not wish to leave our planet's surface."

Glowing. Red. Hot.

David leapt to his feet, reducing the physical proximity between himself and the viewer. It was a relic of nature, standing, making yourself looking bigger, more intimidating. "Perhaps Chief Counsel," David was incensed. "You've been fortunate enough to have only met the meek and mild of my people. We always come baring gifts, but we never leave home without our guns in our holsters." How the analogy translated was anyone's guess but the very lightly veiled, and very out of character, threat seemed to get across.

Ryell and Dulann were hands off. They knew David was the ship's Captain, the leader of this mission, and son of the Anla'Shok'Na. But their discomfort had been growing throughout the exchange. They had confirmed it was mutual through an exchange of worried glances and now it had come time for action.

Dulann opened his mouth to speak, to say what he hadn't yet formulated; he had never had to speak to David in this way, but Ryell beat him to it.

"Captain!" she exclaimed. Her soft voice, turned sharp, her shock and disappointment, and her use formality; something that the two had moved beyond years hence, suddenly jolted David to his senses.

Suddenly his scar let up, like a pain suddenly nulled by a shot of morphine. David sat down and turned to a furious Chief Counsel of Cestus 3.

"Chief Counsel I have let the importance of my mission overcome the reality of who my people are. For that I apologize," he couldn't make eye contact. It was in these instances that David was reminded that had this been two centuries before and had he still been on Earth he would still be considered a child.

Nevar Calaas nodded curtly, his expression had improved to just disapproval. "Perhaps," he was choosing his words carefully, understanding his planet's place within the universe. "The translator did not do the best job or conveying the meaning of your word or mine."

It was a lifeline that David felt he didn't deserve but grabbed it nonetheless. "Perhaps," he agreed. "Thank you Chief Counsel. Fair well."

"Safe voyages Bluestar." The Chief Counsel signed off, cutting the transmission the second his farewell had been transmitted.

It was David's cheeks that were glowing hot now, he still suffered from embarrassment the same as all of us, no matter who your parents were you were always susceptible to that. And now that scar was starting to itch again.

Dulann and Ryell were eager to put this sudden outburst behind them, they knew this young man was under incredible pressure and was perhaps facing down the death of his father. A death that he was trying to prevent, one that maybe he would feel guilty if he could not.

"For where shall I set a course?" Dulann asked, his voice a deep adult tone that acted as a natural reassuring pacifier.

David weighed this question heavily. The scar itched.

He'd had enough of nickel-and-diming around the galaxy, had enough of being fobbed off, of being dismissing, of spending time travelling and speaking with those who yielded no solutions when those who would have a solution existed and perhaps… could be contacted.

"The Rim," David said; "We're going to contact the First Ones."