From Mmturner@aol.com Mon Dec 30 21:24:41 1996 Date: Mon, 30 Dec 1996 11:41:23 -0500 From: "A Page in the Life of ..." To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: Blood Lessons 1/3 This is our first collaboration, and we hope that you enjoy it. Our thanks to our beta readers for their fine suggestions. A WARNING: There are scenes in this story that are not for the faint-hearted. All usual legal disclaimers: Babylon 5 and its characters are the property of JMS and WB. Please do not copy or distribute this story without the express permission of the authors. Comments to Mmturner@aol.com and Analise@verinet.com Blood Lessons 1/3 by Analise Hairabedian and Mary Turner Delenn sat staring at the tiny flicker of the candle flame, her eyes unfocused, her mind struggling to find calm. Seven dead. Seven dead. Seven minds that would never again thrill to beauty or open to knowledge. Seven hearts that would never again feel love or joy. Seven corpses, the responsibility, hers alone. She blinked, her concentration breaking yet again and she let her head fall forward into her hands. Why had she never felt such consuming guilt before? She had sent thousands to their deaths during the Earth-Minbari War... and it had been done as a matter of fact. People died in wars...and the enemy had deserved punishment for its actions. If that punishment demanded that her own people sacrifice their lives, then so be it. Why were the deaths of seven Rangers so different? The com beeped yet again, and yet again, she ignored it. The difference...she told herself, was obvious. She was the One. Before, she had been one of Nine... It had been easier to share the burden of responsibility. The Rangers revered her...not because she was some faceless, hooded figure in the sky...but because they honored her sacrifices, hers...Delenn's. She had sent those seven to evacuate Falris III against the advice of John, of Marcus...even of Lennier. The small colony expected attack by shadow allies, and she had wanted to save them. A trap. That's what everyone told her. She had sent them anyway. Sure of herself...sure of Entil'Zha...sure of The One. Sure of the Rangers. They had been destroyed almost immediately after emerging from Hyperspace, but one had lived long enough to send back that there were no life signs on Falris III...the colony was long dead. Nothing was left there but the ambush that was waiting for the Rangers. She sent the candle flying off the low table with a sweep of her hand, the crystalline holder shattering on the floor. She pushed herself to her feet in a violent motion and began to pace across the room, her slender feet crunching in the scattered shards. They had told her....if you insist on sending them to their death...at least give them the support they need. A telepath. Weaponry. One telepath would have given them a chance to flee. One ship with sufficient firepower might have been able to disable or destroy the enemy. But no. She hadn't believed it was a trap...and even if it was, the Rangers could handle themselves. The resources of the Army of Light were so slim, it seemed wrong to take telepaths and battlecruisers she was sure could be better used elsewhere. She pressed her fist to her mouth, biting on an already bleeding knuckle. Why hadn't she listened? The arrogance! The com beeped once more, and Delenn barely restrained herself from flinging a nearby crystal bowl at the panel. Instead, she let the computer answer the call... again. Taking a deep breath, she retrieved the candle from the broken pile of crystal slivers on the floor. She placed it in another holder and returned to her seat on the cushions. It had gone out. She stared at the half melted wax at the tip... the charred bit of wick that had been smashed to one side of the candle. She did not relight it. ************* Neroon allowed the corner of his mouth lift up in a slight sneer of annoyance as he pressed the Call button for the third time. He knew that she was in there. She had been seen nowhere else for the past few days. He knew that she was not with Starkiller, for the man had been skulking about alone. He held his finger down on the button. If she would not respond to constant computer paging, she *would* respond to the sheer irritation factor of an unending door chime. After a moment, he was rewarded with a muffled 'Come!' from inside, and the door slid open. He stepped into darkened quarters that smelled faintly of....well...Delenn. Her scent was neither like a Minbari's...nor a human's. His eyes immediately adjusted to the dark and he spotted the ambassador sitting on a low couch to his right. He stepped inside and allowed the door to slide shut behind him, folding his broad arms across his chest. "So" he said at last, after a long silence in which it became obvious that she was not going to greet him. Her glance slipped up his black clad form. "Have you come to demand control of the Rangers?" she asked bleakly. "I should," he said. "After all, you are of the Religious caste...leading a military force is not in your - 'job description'." He paused and then heaved a sigh. "But I'm not here to take them from you, much as you might think I should." "Why not? I have proved that I am incapable of even the most basic strategy. I have .... murdered... seven Rangers. Seven people who did what I asked because of who I am, not because I deserved to be obeyed." She stood then, her fists clenched at her sides. "You were right all those months ago, Neroon. They work, we pray and you fight. That is what Valen said. It is my own folly for thinking otherwise." Neroon tightened his jaw and took a step forward, his lip curling up. "I liked you better when I thought you a power-hungry religious fanatic. At least then, you had a backbone. In war, people die. You know this. You were there during the Earth-Minbari War. We slaughtered thousands of them....and we died right alongside. Do you deny responsibility for those deaths? Do you? If you do, you dishonor them and you dishonor yourself!" "I....I...no. This is different. Those Rangers died for me...not for Minbar...for ME." She turned away and clenched her arms tightly to herself, staring at the wall. Neroon took a step forward and spun her to face him. "They died for the One. That just happens to be you. You feel bad because you were wrong...what are you going to do about it? Sulk about in your quarters for the rest of the War?" "I...," her voice was low and quiet, "I...don't know if I can lead them or not. I know nothing of strategy...of the details of combat." Her eyes lifted to his, a spark lighting in the green depths. "When I was Satai...we spoke as one, we moved as one. All decisions were made with the Three Castes working together. Warrior had the knowledge of fighting, Religious backed it with spirit and Worker tempered it with sense. This...This is different." For a while, Neroon was silent, his eyes boring into hers, then he released her arm. "Then you must become the Three. Learn to fight." He chuckled softly. "Learn to *use* sense...to think with your head, not your heart." "What?" she blinked up at him. "I will help you. You will learn the Pike...you will learn strategy...you will learn the Art of Combat." "But...I don't have the time....I have so many things..." He cut her off with a sharp gesture. "If you wish to lead the Rangers effectively, you have no choice. You refused the Warriors the right to lead the Rangers, a task that is rightfully ours. Well, then we shall teach you what you need to know, so that you can truly be Entil'zha. Even the human Sinclair...even he knew more of the ways of the Warrior than you do." There was a long silence in the room, Delenn looking wide-eyed and thoughtful up at the big Warrior. Finally she blinked. "Yes...yes I believe you are right Neroon. I agree to this. I - will learn the Art of Combat from you." "I will arrange for the Cha'Trafa. When the preparations are made, you will learn what it means to be a Warrior." Neroon made a tiny bow, tilting his head a bit in the way that always made him look like he was mocking her. She bowed back, and then, with a swirl of his black cloak, he departed. *************** John Sheridan sat in his office staring at the flimsy in his hand without really noticing that it was there. He had been unable to contact Delenn for almost two days now. She would not answer her pages and she would not answer her door. A few times, he had considered using his security access to get into her quarters, but he had resisted. She would come to him when she was ready...not before. Accepting that was a difficult thing, but he knew that it was the only way to go about things with Delenn. She was a strong person...a person who didn't back down from her principles, whether those principles were right or wrong didn't matter. It was what she was, and part of why he loved her. He had known from the start that Delenn's attitude towards the Rangers was a dangerous one. She was starting to be affected by the reverence that they had for her. Starting to believe her own PR, as they said back on Earth. There was no way for her to live up to such high ideals. He knew this, and she was working through that truth herself right now. He wanted to be there for her, but if she didn't ask it of him....there was nothing that he could do. "Captain.." Ivanova broke his train of thought and he looked up from the invisible flimsie. "Susan?" She stared at him for a long moment. "Is there anything wrong, Captain?" she asked. "You've been staring at that Water Reclamation report for almost half an hour now." He shook his head and ran his hand through his cropped hair. "No...just preoccupied. What is it Susan?" "Some time back...when that Minbari Warrior broke into Delenn's Ranger ceremony..." "I remember..." John grimaced. "Well, after that, Lennier gave me a list of ship names and ID codes to watch for. Warrior Caste ships." John gestured for her to go on. She smiled humorlessly. "Four of them just showed up." John blinked at her. Then he set the paperwork back down on his desk, got up and went to the viewport. Hanging in orbit outside the station, were 4 sleek, deadly looking ships. They were much larger than the typical Minbari fighter, but only a quarter the size of the Minbari Cruiser. These were painted a deep non-reflective black and it was only the fact that they were silhouetted against the rust of Epsilon III that made them visible at all. There was something about these ships that made him shiver a little. John had no doubt that they were just as deadly in combat as they looked. "What are *they* doing here?" he muttered. ************ (SECTION 4) "No, dammit, I DON'T understand." Sheridan paced the floor of his quarters faster and faster as his agitation mounted. "Please, John, this is what I have to do," Delenn looked steadily at him, her face reflecting the tension she was under. "It would be easier to go with your blessing, but I WILL go, whether or not you approve." He stopped, seized her hands, and guided her to the couch. "Delenn, look," he said, pulling her onto the couch as he sat. "I cannot see what spending what little free time you have learning how to swing that damn pike around or flying a fighter is going to do to make you feel better about what happened to your Rangers." "It will not," she agreed serenely. "Their deaths are on my soul and always will be. I do not want to feel better' about what happened. I want to prevent it from ever happening again." "We're at war, Delenn. People die in wars. It's an ugly fact. I agree that if diplomats really understood that, they'd work a lot harder to prevent violence from breaking out, but..." "John, you still do not understand." Gently she freed her hands from his grasp and rose. "I acted from the purest and best motives, but what I did was foolish in the extreme. You tried to tell me not to send the Rangers where I did. Ivanova tried as well. Even Lennier...he knew better as well. They must have known themselves that what I was asking of them was imprudent, but I thought you were all wrong. I was so concerned about what was happening to the people on that world, that I could not see the riskiness of my actions. My concerns were all for what would happen AFTER the Rangers succeeded in the tasks I had set for them, not for the foolhardiness of the tasks themselves." "Okay, so you made a strategic mistake and it cost lives. I admit that that's a bad thing to have on your conscience, but risking your own life is not going to make up for it." He stood up too, and caught her against him to still the frantic, aimless pacing. "I know you haven't been sleeping well since this happened, and I agree that you need something to take your mind off Falris III, but all Neroon does is shove your nose in it more." Briefly she rested her head against his shoulder. She felt safe in the warmth of his embrace. It would be so easy to give in, to allow him to comfort her and try to ease her pain, but she knew that in the end her fears would drive him from her. If she was unable to live with her actions, how could he? And she was so tired..... It took all her resolve to step back from his arms. "I was brought up in the temple, John. Strategy played little part in our training. We took daily exercise with the fighting pike, yes, because the body must be as well-formed as the mind, and we learned basic defensive tactics, but they were of the Rak'len, which is as much a mental discipline as it is a martial art. The strategy we learned was much like the one you practice when you play chess with Mr. Garibaldi." "I don't understand." "You have told me that each time you make a move you are thinking three and four moves ahead?" "Yes." "Well, that is also what the Rak'lenteaches us. To think many moves ahead." "I still don't get it. Chess is supposed to be great practice for strategic thinkers so if your Rak'lenteaches you to think in that kind of pattern..." "Over the centuries, Rak'len has become ritualized. I feint to the right, my partner knows that that will mean that in three moves I will thrust with my left at his shoulder. The practice is as much about grace and precision as it is about defense." "Oh. I see. Kind of like improvisational ballet." He shook his head. 'Only the Minbari could have turned their equivalent of karate into an artform,' he thought, and then concentrated on the woman in front of him. 'Another thing I don't like are these ritualized fasts she seems to drop into in a heartbeat.' "You've lost weight," he said abruptly. "You're exhausted, you're under too much stress right now, and you're physically weak. You're hardly in the best shape to undergo rigorous training in combat skills from Neroon. Can't you put this off for a month or so? I can work with you on strategic thinking, teach you chess, if you like," he grinned briefly, "teach you poker, too, come to think of it....put you on one of Franklin's diets, you could work out, and then if you're ready, if the war isn't too bad..." "John, John, do you not hear yourself? If...if...if..." She began to pace agitatedly again. "What must be done must be done now. I cannot afford to make another mistake, to waste more lives needlessly, to shelter in the warmth of your - affection, and shirk my duty. Neroon has offered me a chance to learn what I must know." Sheridan made an inarticulate sound of protest. "Shhhh," she whirled and placed a finger on his lips. "I know...he hopes I will fail, and I may, but the hope of atonement has placed my feet on the path and it is one I must climb. It will be easier to do what I must do if I do not have the weight of your disapproval to shoulder as well." "Aw, hell, Delenn, you know I just want you to be safe, and I hope you know that I could never love you less, no matter what happens. Just promise me you'll stay in one piece." "I will do my best." She said determinedly. John couldn't restrain a small smile at her stubbornness. "I don't doubt that you will." *********** Sheridan insisted on accompanying her to meet the small group of Minbari Warriors when they boarded. She protested vehemently, "John, this is something I must do alone." "If you want those - those..." "They are Warrior Caste," she said gently. "Yeah. Well, you want them on board my station, we do it my way - or it's the highway." "The high...? Very well, John, but, please, do not seek a confrontation with them." "I would never..." Gently, she touched his face, and he stopped and smiled at her. They stood in the spaceport as the shuttle went through the docking procedures and security scans, not speaking. Delenn was tense, Sheridan was trying to feel calm. He knew how the Warrior Caste felt about him, they had made no secret of their feelings in the past. He wanted to make sure that they were not going to take out any of their hostilities on Delenn. The port was crowded as usual, packed with refugees, traders, and travelers on their way to the far reaches of the Galaxy. A silent presence appeared at his side and Sheridan was not surprised to see the large form of Neroon standing there. Neroon tilted his head and met John's eyes briefly, letting his hard glance slide up and down John's figure almost insultingly. Then the laser gaze was averted to the new arrivals. John didn't have time to bristle at Neroon's attitude, four black clad Minbari were approaching them from across the docking bay. It was funny, he thought. He'd come to picture Minbari as a petite people...like Delenn and Lennier...like most of the crew of the Whitestar. These four were big men. They moved in liquid grace, like dark panthers with hard eyes and expressionless features. Their headbones were carved and sharpened into weapons themselves, rising and falling in whorls and peaks of bone. They stopped in front of the three and their eyes found Neroon. All of them bowed deeply over folded hands. They straightened and let their eyes drift over Delenn and Sheridan. They did not repeat the bow. John struggled to hold onto his temper. He knew they were trying to provoke him. He knew that they were aching to challenge him to personal combat. 'Starkiller', their eyes disdained. 'Freak', they said silently to Delenn. "Welcome to Babylon 5." John said tightly, the control he held on his temper, fraying slightly. How dare they insult Delenn so casually? He was not about to give them the same contempt....to sink to their level. "All the facilities of the Station will be available for you. I hope that you will feel free to come to me if you have any special requests. Commander Ivanova and Security have both been instructed to cooperate with your......task." he stole a quick glance at Delenn. She was pale, but straight as a rod, her hands folded serenely in front of her. He let himself smile a little. She wasn't going to let them intimidate her. After all, he reminded himself, she had gone in to face the Inquisitor. And Sebastian had been far more threatening than these four. "Thank you Captain." The tallest of them said, his voice heavily accented and deep as a gong. They all looked with veneration at Neroon, who was obviously still held in a high regard. John wondered, not for the first time, just what this man's rank was. Then Neroon said something in Minbari, and the small group strode past them and out. John was too disturbed to notice, but Delenn caught the eldest of the four winking at her as he moved past. She was so startled, she nearly lost her composure. Neroon moved to follow them, but paused and looked at Delenn. "Once we have found a suitable place ...I will summon you. It will be soon. Begin the Kin'Chak." And then he was gone with a flutter of black fabric. John looked quizzically down at the woman at his side. "What's the Kin'Chak?" he asked, fairly certain he would not like it. "A purifying ritual. I must enter the Cha'trafa clean of spirit and soul." "Purifying? Doesn't that mean more fasting?" She nodded. He frowned. "You've already lost too much weight...you're not fully Minbari anymore. Your body can't take what it used to. You promised me you wouldn't get hurt." Delenn opened her mouth, but John rolled right over her. "I swear Delenn, if I see even a hint that you are injuring yourself with this nonsense....I'll have those high and mighty Warriors escorted off my station." She paled a little at the thought of the repercussions of such a thing and lifted her hand to cover his mouth. "It will be fine. The fast is minimal, it relies more heavily on meditation. I won't be harmed. Don't worry." John stared down at her delicate features, seeing resolve, dedication, loyalty, obstinacy.... all blended into the fragile figure of the person dearest to him in the universe. He remembered the hardened, battle-scarred Warriors who had just arrived. Somehow he wasn't comforted by her words. ********* Larenn, Kabreen and Trevann stepped into the large empty room after Neroon, squinting up at the high ceilings. The human Commander had directed them to Grey Sector and they had found several promising prospects. This was the best yet. A room big enough for training maneuvers ..with poor lighting to make conditions difficult. He stopped in the center and waited. Neroon was walking along the walls, nodding to himself. Finally he turned to his aide. "This will do Larenn. Very nicely I think. It was an excellent idea of yours, for me to suggest to Delenn that the Caste train her...especially after her latest failure with the Rangers." He was still not looking at the younger Minbari, so he did not see the small triumphant smile that flashed across his face, but Trevann did ..and frowned slightly. "Yes, I thought so Satai." "There is no more Council, Larenn. I am no longer Satai in any sense of the word." Neroon's words had the air of having been repeated many times. "So you say.. But to us, you remain Satai." Neroon only heaved a sigh. He began to walk out of the room and both men followed. "See to it that it is made ready for us.." Larenn interrupted him then. "Satai, forgive me, but I would like to request that I be allowed to take on her training. It would bring honor to the Wind Swords if I succeeded...and surely you know that after the Sinclair - incident...my Clan is in need of regaining esteem. We should like to retake our place as equals among the other Clans again." Trevann made a small noise that could have been construed as disapproval. The younger man ignored him. Neroon stopped and turned to look Larenn in the eye. He was silent for a long while, and then replied, "I will not refuse you Larenn. You have served me well. But you know that you must exercise restraint where Delenn is concerned. She is not Warrior Caste. She has not been raised for it from birth as we have. She is also no longer fully Minbari, that will weaken her as well. She is also responsible for a great deal in the coming battles." An expression of disdain crossed Larenn's face, and Neroon paused, frowning at him. Finally he continued, "We may consider her a weakling, or even a ..freak, but...she is...needed." Neroon no longer had to force the words of respect past his lips. He had found peace with Delenn's role in these unusual times. "Are you capable of taking on the burden of her training in these circumstances?" "Of course Satai. I will not fail YOU. It will be a challenge." "Good. I am sure you will do an excellent job, as always." With that, Neroon made a small bow and stalked off, Trevann at his side. Larenn stood there for a long moment, watching the older Minbari walk away. And then, slowly, a broad smile lifted his lips. Kabreen looked sidelong at his Clan brother. "Why did you ask to train the freak? How much honor could that possibly give our Clan? Larenn did not look at his friend. "It will bring us honor - honor among all the Clans when I show what a weakiling and coward she is. She will fail the Cha'Trafa." "How can you be sure?" Kabreen frowned. "She has surprised us before." Larenn smiled fiercely at the younger man. "I am sure. I have what the humans call - 'a feeling'. Come Kabreen," he clapped his hand on the other's shoulder. "There is much to do." ******* Delenn stood in front of Grey 19's large circular door, her heart beating rapidly. She strove for a measure of calm. This was necessary. Once she walked through that door, she was embarking on a difficult journey. Larenn, the young Wind Sword with the steely eyes, had come to her quarters the night before and explained to her the details of the Cha'Trafa. He had sat there, incongruous in his night black on her pale furniture surrounded by candles and crystals, and told her of the rituals.. "You will enter the chamber...and you will not leave again for a total of 14 Minbari Standard Days. You and your instructor will train during that time. You must follow his instructions to the letter, you must not speak. Because you are no longer - pure Minbari," a sneer darkening his features, "A full fast will not be required in this instance. You may have water and occasional food, but that is all." "14 days..." she said, her voice soft.. "I do not know that I can be away that long....-" "Do you refuse the training?" his voice was like ice. She could actually feel hostility radiating off of him in waves. "I...no. No, I will manage." she was already thinking of John. Perhaps if she could arrange to have him off-station for a little while..... "Good. Then I shall meet you at 0600 standard earther hours...at the place called Grey 19." The coincidence of the place did no escape her, but she was too stunned by something else he had said. "You are to be the one to teach me? I understood that Neroon..." "Satai Neroon is far too good to teach the likes of you. I highly doubt that you will even complete the first courses. Why waste his time?" he interrupted her harshly. "Do you object to me as your teacher?" his eyes were shards of glass, daring her to insult his honor. She had shaken her head and forced the word "no" past the sudden lump of fear in her throat. This one hated her. Without reason and without reservation. That kind of directed hatred was a dangerous thing.....and she was about to lock herself in with it for 14 days. ******** There would be no one this time to come to rescue her. The Gaim had agreed to her suggestion that Sheridan's presence in their Assembly would help to sway those who still objected to the Alliance. He had objected, but in the end, as she had expected, he had gone. The Gaim Hegemony was distant, and the voyage, and diplomatic maneuvers should insure that she would be able to complete the full course of the Cha'Trafa, and be back at her duties before he returned. And now she stood at the gates of her own guilt...and she entered. ************** "Neroon..." Trevann began, and Neroon shook his head and held up his hand to forestall his companion. They were sitting in a small outside cafe in the Zocalo, a tide of aliens swirling past them. Neroon's pale eyes met his friend's darker blue ones. "I weary of your suspicions of Larenn," he said tiredly. "I do not see why, just because he wishes to restore the honor of the Wind Swords, that you must constantly think the worst of him." "This goes beyond honor and tradition, Neroon. Larenn is undisciplined. He hates. Hate is a dangerous thing...especially in a Wind Sword. They do not teach discretion and moderation in that Clan. You have heard him speak about Delenn...and though there are many of us in the Warrior Caste who agree that she wields too much military power for a fanatical religious figurehead....we also do not wish her dead." Trevann shook his head, looking down at the tabletop they shared. "He is a good aide..a fine warrior. And I think that perhaps she can teach him something as well. I know that he hates, but it is the same hate that many of our Caste share. Perhaps his hatred will be lessened when he faces it." "We can only hope so, I suppose." The older Minbari looked out across the Zocalo. "I wish there had been a way to refuse his request without insult." "It is true that I would have preferred to be the one to train her, but that was taken >from my hands...as you know. If I had refused his request to train her, I would have deeply offended him and his Clan. There was nothing I could do, especially with you and Kabreen standing there as witnesses." "As he surely knew..." Trevann said sourly. A young Earther waitress approached them with a tray and set the drinks down on their table. Trevann noted with a little amusement, that her hands were shaking. She barely lingered long enough to ask if that was all before she darted away. Trevann picked up his drink and tapped the glass idly with his little finger. "Have you noticed the empty tables around us?" he asked suddenly. Neroon let his eyes flick about him. "Hmmm" he grunted non-committally. "Only you would notice...or even care what the Earthers and other aliens do....They fear us... who cares? As long as they stay away from me..." "Come...surely in the thirteen years since the War...you have come to wonder about Earthers a little? After all the fuss they have been making? They seem to have shown themselves to be semi-competent sentients." "Perhaps" he said after a long silence. "Ahh!" Trevann said, a grin splitting his face. "An admission from the staunch human-hater...what has happened to the Neroon I used to know?...the one who would only change his mind if it was changed for him with a large pike to the head." Neroon laughed then, a deep booming sound that startled a few of the passing shoppers. "My friend...that is exactly what it took!" he said. Then he sobered suddenly. "I hope that it doesn't take quite so much for Larenn...I do not think that Delenn has it in her." ******************* Delenn stood in semi-darkness, peering around her. Her vision had worsened since she had become human. She was no longer able to focus her eyes on a specific thing... no matter the distance. Now she saw all in a uniform manner...all was the same definition of light and dark, blur and sharpness. She swallowed and took another step into the room, reminded uncomfortably of the last time she had been in here almost two years ago. When an old, well-used Pike slid across the floor to bump against her feet, she nearly jumped. Too similar. And then the similarity ended. Larenn stepped out of the darkness of the far wall and walked towards her, there was a hard grin on his lips that made gooseflesh prickle on her arms. She bent quickly and picked up the unextended pike...reveling slightly in the unusual freedom that the soft black trousers she wore gave her. It had been so long since she'd worn such things...not since her change. She had no more time to reflect on her new clothing as Larenn moved with lightning swiftness and twisted the pike from her grasp, wrenching her wrist ruthlessly, and she cried out. "No!" he snapped, his voice like a whip-crack. "You do nothing until ordered! You do *nothing*! Do you understand?" "Yes Larenn.." she gasped out, cradling her wrist against her body, fighting tears of pain. His hand flashed out and caught her cheek with the back of his spiked glove. "You do not SPEAK!" he roared. "If you speak to me again...I will punish you again. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" Swallowing....shaking...she nodded. Blood dripped slowly into the collar of her shirt...and she began to wonder if she would survive the two weeks. ********** Trevann was peering intently at the newspaper dispenser, like it was some sort of Oracle when Garibaldi happened by. "Uhh, is there something wrong, Alit?" he asked. The big Warrior straightened and turned and Garibaldi felt himself fixed on the spot by a pair of dark blue eyes. The man was silent for a long moment, and Michael felt himself begin to get uncomfortable. 'Serves you right for opening your mouth,' he thought. 'I've probably done something to offend him.' "Yes." The word startled Michael a little after the long silence. The man's voice was deep and more heavily accented than Delenn's. "I have been attempting to get a paper >from this machine. It will not give me one." Relief washed over the Chief. 'Oh, simple.' "Well, that's 'cause you don't have a Station ID card. See, everything around here is run with the things...they keep track of your credits, your accounts...that sort of thing. Unfortunately, you have to have one to use the newspaper machine." "There are many traders and passersby on this place." Trevann said, tilting his head. "How do they use your facilities?" "You get a temp when you come on board at the customs department. Most people already have em' though. You guys didn't get em' mostly 'cause we didn't think of it. I'll have em' made up right away though. Sorry about that." 'I didn't think they would be mixing with the crowd is what it was.' he thought wryly.. 'Figured they'd be off fighting or meditating somewhere.' "In the meantime..." he pulled out his own card and shoved it in the slot. In a moment, the paper slid out of the chute. Garibaldi handed it to the big Warrior who turned it about in his hands for a moment before bestowing a broad smile on the Chief. "My thanks to you Mr. Garibaldi. This will be most...interesting." Michael was still getting over the smile as Alit Trevann walked away. 'If that's the most trouble they give us on this visit...I'm gonna owe Zack a bundle...' He continued on his rounds, shaking his head. *********** Sheridan paced the narrow confines of his quarters on the new White Star and thought about Delenn. She had been too damned eager to get both he and Lennier off the station. Something was up. Every instinct screamed that there was trouble coming. Finally he reached a decision, and opened a comm link to the Station Ivanova's startled face appeared. "Captain. We thought you'd be well on your way by now?" "I am. Listen Ivanova, I've got a bad feeling about this." "Sir? The White Star should be able to handle a couple of Shadows. With the two teeps on board..." "No, no. I'm concerned about Delenn. I want an eye kept on her and those Minbari, and if anything seems - odd, I want to know , even if I am on Gaim." "Well, I can station a couple of guards outside Grey 19, but...." "What are you talking about?" "Delenn began her training as soon as you left. She and Larenn..." "Dammit, I KNEW she was hiding something." Sheridan punched his fist against the comm panel. ********** Casually he backhanded her across the face, a spike on his glove narrowly missing her left eye. Delenn flinched, but made no sound. Her posture was ramrod straight, her slight body showed none of the physical strains of the twenty hours she had remained standing erect in the center of the vast chamber. Neroon circled her again and again, shouting questions at her, vilifying her, calling her names that Minbari mothers forbade their children ever to utter, and throughout she stood silent, forbidden to speak, to acknowledge his presence, to move. Her adherence to the rules he had set seemed to be driving Larenn into a frenzy. Silence was something she understood, something her long diplomatic training had prepared her to endure, and her pride prevented her body from reflecting the physical exhaustion she was feeling. Obviously Larenn had expected her to fail this ordeal and was angered that she had not.. He moved in closer, shouting in her face, striking her repeatedly across the face, and still she made no reply, serenely ignoring him. Suddenly he kicked out, knocking her off her feet. She sprawled to the floor, and lay there shaking and stunned. He moved in, kicking her again, this time his boot connected painfully with her ribs. "Get up, Ambassador Freak. Did I not instruct you to stand? Are you disobeying me?" Painfully she struggled to a half-standing position, and he again kicked at her feet so that she fell back to the metal floor. -- Tar is not a plaything. -- Bart Simpson From Mmturner@aol.com Mon Dec 30 21:24:53 1996 Date: Mon, 30 Dec 1996 11:43:33 -0500 From: "A Page in the Life of ..." To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: Blood Lessons 2/3 This is our first collaboration, and we hope that you enjoy it. Our thanks to our beta readers for their fine suggestions. A WARNING: There are scenes in this story that are not for the faint-hearted. All usual legal disclaimers: Babylon 5 and its characters are the property of JMS and WB. Please do not copy or distribute this story without the express permission of the authors. Comments to Mmturner@aol.com and Analise@verinet.com Blood Lessons 2/3 by Analise Hairabedian and Mary Turner "Did I tell you to recline, indolent fool?" This time as she stood, he kicked her harder, just above the knee, sending her skidding across the chamber to bang against a metal support strut. She used the strut to climb back to her feet, shaking her head like a punch-drunk fighter. This time as Larenn approached her, she ducked back, putting the metal between them and making an effort to evade his blows. "You disobey," he roared and leaped forward. A chime sounded. It was the end of the first session of Cha'Trafa. For a long moment Delenn and Larenn stared at each other across the strut. Finally he said "The period of meditation now begins. You may take water, and two pieces of la'fre'nah. Go to the mats that have been placed for us in the far corner. This period of reflection will last for four standard hours. You are not permitted to sleep." Delenn edged away from him, as she walked to the other side of the chamber. Despite her best efforts she was limping slightly, the pain in her knee and thigh almost unendurable. Larenn watched her go, noting her halting gait with a faint smile. He was a little surprised that she had survived their first encounter, but he remembered that she had been a Satai. ******* Trevann was sitting, frowning at the newspaper, when Marcus walked by. The young man paused his rapid stride and after a moment of indecision, came over to where the Minbari sat. "Alit?" Marcus asked, bowing slightly. The big man turned slightly in his seat to see Marcus, taking in the Ranger uniform and the pin. There was a moment of silence, and then Trevann smiled slightly. <"Sit"> he said in Minbari. Marcus did so, resting his elbows on the table. < "You are the one who fought my Clan brother?"> he asked, looking the human up and down. < "Yes"> the bearded Ranger grinned. < "well... I did the best I could anyway."> he shrugged. "That was very brave of you. Neroon is one of the best Warriors in our entire clan." Trevann said, setting down the newspaper and switching to English. "It wasn't a matter of bravery...it was something that had to be done." Marcus's demeanor changed to a more serious manner. Travenn looked at him for a long time before continuing "I see. And why did it have to be done? Do you not think the Warrior Caste is capable of handling the Rangers?" "It is not a matter of whether you can handle us.." Marcus said, his chin lifting. "It is a matter of why we follow as Rangers to begin with." Travenn was silent, but he seemed to be listening, so Marcus continued. "We follow Delenn because she believed in what had to be done. She sacrificed all that she was, gave up the power of the Nine, gave up her heritage...for us. We can do no less for her." "Yes.." Trevann murmured. "You live for the One, you die for the One...is that not correct?" Marcus nodded, expecting the same form of mockery he had experienced from the Warrior Caste while training on Minbar. However, Trevann only nodded thoughtfully. "Well, one can certainly respect your devotion. I wonder though...do you see her as one of you? As a Ranger?" The young man frowned for a moment. "Yes. Yes I do...we all do. She was the one who insisted that the Rangers be brought out again...she guided us, sent Sinclair to us in the beginning. She *is* Ranger One." "You do not see her as an inexperienced Religious prophet attempting to lead a military force?" "No. And if you refer to the deaths of those seven at Falris III, that was a price we paid willingly. Entil'zha sent us there because she believed that she was saving lives. It is true that several of us warned her that it might be a trap...but she has become more of a leader because of that mistake. We have no misconceptions about her, but we follow her because she is the One. We would follow no one else." Marcus added the last while staring directly into Trevann's eyes. To his surprise, the man only smiled. "No need to get fierce with me, boy. I only ask. Delenn is undergoing the Cha'Trafa as we speak...in an attempt to learn strategy and combat techniques. From there we will teach her to fly a fighter." "Is this necessary?" Marcus asked, frowning. "She has had no problem leading us before." "I do not think that she sees it that way.." "How long has she been inside with Neroon?" "Not Neroon.." Trevann frowned then, his eyes shifting away from Marcus. "Then who?" "Larenn...he is a Wind Sword.." Marcus was silent for a long moment after that, and then he stood. "I hope you know what you are doing, Alit. If anything happens to her...the results on Minbar could be catastrophic.." Trevann pursed his lips, his eyes serious. "I know. I know." *********** She had no way of knowing how long she had been kneeling there. Time had ceased to have meaning in the same way that breathing did...but just like the intake of air, it remained so very important. How long? Every now and then these words would flitter through her exhausted and numbed brain, and each time a reply would form...I don't know. The pain in her legs had long since ceased its screaming fiery agony and had subsided to an unpleasant numbness...and still she knelt. There was a small tray in front of her, about 2 inches away. Upon it was a glass of water and a small plate of la'freh'na...the dry hard cracker-bread that the Religious Caste used in ceremonies. She had not had a drink of water in a long time. How long? Long. She had not been allowed to touch the tray...to take the glass and empty it ..to gulp down the water and ease her parched throat...to wolf down the crackers as if they were the finest ambrosia. These feelings gave her a hint how long it really had been. A piece of the darkness around her moved. She did not. Larenn's tall figure emerged out of the fog of dimness like a spectre and looked down at her. He would be quite handsome, she thought idly, if he did not have such a perpetual sneer on his face when he looked at her. "You wish the water?" his voice was soft, almost sympathetic. She was not fooled this time. Before, when he had set the water and bread in front of her, he had said the same thing. She had taken it for permission and had reached for the glass. Her side still burned from the kick that had carried her halfway across the room. This time, she remained silent. The echoing sound of footsteps told her that he was circling her. She was reminded of the scavenger birds on her homeworld. Black birds that would congregate around a kill and circle, circle in the air ..waiting for the right moment to swoop down and tear at the unprotected flesh of its victim. The tapping steps stopped behind her and she tried to slow her heartrate. She knew that this could not be a normal ritual training. There was nothing to be learned here besides how much this one hated her. "An enemy hunts you." his voice broke through the stillness. She remained unmoving. "You are in a fighter. Dead in space. You have 2 hours of oxygen left, no power to weapons...only life support still functions. If you are captured, you will be interrogated and killed." He remained standing, unseen, behind her. "Speak" he said. She swallowed, her tongue felt thick and tender in her mouth, her throat dry, her lips cracked and bleeding. "I would ..." her rasping voice broke and she swallowed, desperately trying to think of what answer Larenn wanted to hear. What would John do? " I ..would send out a distress beacon so that they could find me..." she tried to swallow again...deliberately not looking at the glass of water. Her mouth was so dry. "I would switch power off life-support to weapons...when they came close enough, I would ......" a sharp blow to the back of her head sent her flying forward onto the tray. La'fre'nah went scattering across the floor and the glass of water shattered under one hand. The liquid she had stared at for the past century spilled across the floor. "Dishonorable whore!" he yelled. "You have allowed that dog Sheridan Starkiller to influence you! Combat must be done face to face...honor to honor...or not at all. You would disallow capture by self-destructing your ship!" Delenn barely heard him. She was near to tears looking at the spilled water. She had been staring at the glass for so long....hoping that she would eventually be allowed to drink it. Her face was pressed into the wet floor and she couldn't resist sticking her tongue out to lap up the little moisture that was left there, hoping that Larenn would not see. He did. "Did I say that you could take water?" The ring of his boots on the floor was the only warning she had before his kick sank into her side, curling her in on herself in agony. She huddled there, gasping for breath while he stood over her. "Get up." he ordered. Slowly and painfully, she forced her legs, numbed from kneeling for uncountable hours, to support her weight once more. She stood before her tormentor, shaking >from dehydration and pain...blood dripping from her fingers where the glass had cut her palm. "You are surrounded by 5 men....you have no weapons..." he began. Delenn firmed her spine and set her mind to the test, determined that whatever it was that Larenn wanted to hear...she could figure it out. ******* Kabreen was waiting in the pre-arranged room for Larenn. He had with him a clean set of clothing and food. Larenn was late. He waited for over an hour. Still, no sign of him. It was a blatant breach of protocol. The Cha'Trafa had certain rules that were followed. The instructor must come out and retrieve food and water for both the student and himself. The last time that Kabreen had come here, he had waited at the pre-arranged time for Larenn....and Larenn had not emerged from Grey 19. He had waited for several hours before simply leaving the food and going. He could not enter the chamber, much as he was starting to wish he could. It would be the worst kind of break in the tradition. Now he was back the next day with more food, expecting that the tray he had brought with him the previous day would be gone. It was not. It sat in the same spot. The sight of the tray had given Kabreen pause....and then cause for worry. Larenn was an excellent warrior... but he was tempermental... and he had made no secret of his hatred for Delenn and all she stood for. They all shared that view to one degree or another in the Wind Swords, but it was possible that Larenn had taken it too far. He was aching to ask the two Clan Brothers who stood outside the door to Grey 19 if Larenn had been in or out at all since the beginning of the trial 2 days ago...but that too was forbidden. So he remained silent and continued to wait. Another hour passed and he was about to leave the tray again, when the sound of the circular door opening in the hall sent a surge of relief through him. Larenn stopped in the doorway, and Kabreen tried not to let his shock show. The man looked ....wild. There was an edge to him... like an animal showing the whites of its eyes. He swallowed. He was not allowed to talk to Larenn. Instead, he helped him dress in clean clothes, and handed him the tray. He almost asked if everything was all right...but restrained himself. And then Larenn was gone...back inside the Chamber. Kabreen stood and stared at the door for a long time, and then, he too....turned and left. *********** She huddled on the thin mat that had been laid out for her in the corner. Larenn would not allow her to sleep. He was somewhere in the room, she knew not where. She dared not let her eyes shut, for he could be in front of her in the darkness...and she knew that he could see in the dark much better than she. One of her eyes was swollen shut as well from an intentional pike swing from an earlier lesson. She had so many injuries now that they had all faded into one screaming agony that she had learned to shut out. Surely it had been weeks now. Soon the 14 days would come and Neroon....Neroon would come and let her out. She had never thought that she would be so glad to see the Warrior who had caused her so much trouble in the past. But now she yearned to hear his heavy voice. This was not part of the plan...he hadn't done this on purpose, had he? Locked her in her with this madman? Her logical brain denied it, but her emotions were ruling her now. Her fear was winning. Nine circles of light appeared on the floor in the gloom before her. She blinked. "Summoned, I come..." she murmured softly, forgetting that Larenn could be anywhere in the room. Nine hooded figures stepped out into the circles of light, unmoving, unspeaking. As one, they lifted their arms and pushed back their cowls. She swallowed. The slight figure who moved to the center of the Nine... the one with the large green eyes and the commanding air....that one she knew. The woman lifted her proud eyes and looked across the gulf of darkness toward her. Eye met eye and Delenn felt her hand lift involuntarily to her mouth to stifle a gasp. It was like looking into an old, old mirror. Such confidence. This woman knew her place in the Universe, she understood how it functioned. She understood the things that Delenn had forgotten. That one knew. That one had been a leader. "I am still there." the Minbari woman said, coming closer. "Look inside. You do not need what these Warriors claim to give. You have me. This Larenn....was he chosen by Dukhat? Was he a member of the Nine? He beats you, demeans you, yes. But what is he giving you? Look at his hatred and use it." Delenn shook her head wordlessly. "Use it like you use any tool. Like you used Sinclair, like you used Sheridan..." "I did not..." she whispered, horrified. "Yes you did. Accept that, and you can accept what it was that killed those precious Rangers. Accept the fact that what you are doing, what *we* have always done....is for life. You turned *us* into you....is that what you want? A sniveling soft-hearted... *follower*. Are you a follower? *I* never was. We went through the change because it had to be done. Because we believed that we could make a difference...because some must be sacrificed if all are to be saved." Delenn watched her old self lift a slender arm and point at her. "When you realize that you have already chosen your path...when you realize that there is no going back... you will embrace what you are without reservation...and you will become what the Universe needs." "What is it that it needs?" Delenn asked, her quiet voice shaking. "Us" The figure was gone. The Nine were gone. Delenn swallowed and hung her head. Oh John...' she thought... and then stopped herself. John was not coming. She had sent him away. He could not help her. She was alone here with Larenn. The sound of metal on metal startled her, and she looked up to see a pike sliding across the floor. Footfalls echoed off the high ceiling. She lifted her chin and forced her aching body to its feet, scooping up the pike without permission. Larenn had taught her enough in this eternity of "training" to defend herself no matter the cause...he would not hesitate to kill her if she gave him the chance. It had gotten worse as time passed. She thought that in the beginning, he really had tried to go through with the ceremony...but he had only become more and more unstable as the training wore on. Now she knew that every battle they fought was for her life. She was so tired, so worn....she didn't think that she could hold out much longer. *********** Travenn stood at the edge of the strange sand pool. Rocks had been placed at intervals on the surface and someone had carefully drawn concentric lines around each rock, making them look like perpetually dropped stones in a pool. A sound made him turn and he smiled to see Kabreen walking towards him, looking around the garden a little quizzically. "What is this place. Alit?" Kabreen asked after he respectfully bowed to the older man. "They call it the Zen garden. A very interesting place. See this pool?" he gestured at the sand and the rocks. Kabreen peered at it. "What is the purpose?" "I would suppose that it is for the Earther to reflect upon. As I have told Neroon, and I now tell you...these humans are perhaps deeper than we ever thought. I wonder now, if Delenn was right. "Humans are the key" she said once. I did not bother to wonder at that before, but now I do." Kabreen cleared his throat a little nervously. "Alit, this is the reason that I have come to you...it is Larenn." Trevann sighed and shook his head. "I feared as much. Do you feel he has stepped over his bounds?" "I...I do not know for certain. But there is something that is wrong with him. I go to take him his clothing and food each day...and out of 6 days now, he has only come out for food and water twice." "Delenn can no longer handle such a fast." Trevann said unnecessarily. Kabreen was digging around in his belt. He pulled out a black pair of gloves and handed them to Trevann. "Whether she can handle the fast or not is irrelevant in light of this." he tipped the backs of the spiked gloves into the light to show the dark stains of blood. Trevann felt his own blood chill at the sight. "Sometimes blood is spilled in the Cha'Trafa. I myself, still have scars from it. But in light of Larenn's ...enthusiasm.." Trevann stopped and twisted his mouth on the word, "I wonder if he is not going too far." "I cannot stop the Ceremony. My brother will not let me in...I am not of high enough rank to Larenn. You cannot stop the ceremony...you are Star Rider....it would be....bad. Perhaps..." Kabreen stopped and bit his lip uncharacteristically, " since you seem to have established a small understanding of the humans...you could get them to interfere?" "There would be bloodshed. Your Wind Sword brothers would never let them pass while they lived." he paused then, considering. "But there might be a way." He turned his eyes to Kabreen's pale blue ones. "Thank you for coming to me, Kabreen. If Larenn is using the Cha' Trafa for his own personal vendettas...if he hurts Delenn or, Valen prevent...kills her...things could get very bad indeed back home. It must have been very difficult for you to do this to a fellow Clan member." "It is for the Clan that I do this. If Larenn is doing what I suspect, it would be the final song for the Wind Swords. Our honor would be completely gone." He bowed over his hands and left the garden. Trevann watched him go, and then he left as well. Intent on fixing this problem now, before it went too far to recall . ******* Larenn loomed over her. "Have you recovered?" he sneered. "It is your Earther change that betrays you. A proper Minbari would be ashamed to reveal such weakness as you do, cringing here. A proper Minbari...but I forget myself, do I not, Ambassador?" He seized a hank of her hair, and jerked her head back till she was staring straight up into his lethal black eyes. "For are you not the most proper of Minbari, with your she-bitch pelt," contemptuously he hacked off a hank of her hair, jerking her head to the side as he did so, "your earther lover, your lapdog Lennier,, your Rangers who die needlessly, and most of all, YOUR decision to break the Grey Council, a tradition that has stood a thousand years. You are no longer Satai, so Neroon is not to be Satai. No one is to be Satai. The Great Delenn has spoken. The Chosen of Dukhat, The whore of Starkiller. It is all the same." He jerked her head one last time, smashing it against the metal strut. "Come. It is time to learn the Kel'tha, the long knives." With a flick of his long black cape he stalked away. Delenn stared after him for a moment, and then wearily she climbed to her feet. Her left knee throbbed, and she winced when she accidentally banged her wrist against the metal strut. Her head throbbed from Larenn's last blow, and her vision was blurred. Larenn gestured to the center of the chamber, and obediently Delenn returned to the circle chalked there. Seconds later the deadly two-edged blade of the Kel'tha sliced air centimeters from her left ear. The next pass was even closer, and the next, and on the fourth the tip of the blade grazed her cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. Still Delenn stood absolutely still, willing her exhausted body to cooperate. She knew Larenn wanted her to show fear, to flinch, to give him an excuse to ... to.... "Take your weapon," he spat, throwing a kel'tha at her. She managed to seize it before it fell to the deck, but she sliced open a finger as she did. "Min'thron," he muttered, "clumsy fool." Rapidly he showed her the handholds, grips, and thrusts that formed the basis for using the kel'tha in battle. "Repeat." As he had done with the short knife, he drilled her through the routines again and again. This time, she was slower to learn, and her dexterity did not improve. The hilt grew slippery with her blood, and Larenn impatiently barked instructions at her till she felt her head would explode. Finally he growled his disgust and cuffed her with his spiked glove. "You are offensive to the name Minbari," he taunted, and struck her again, and again till the universe became a distant shower of blood-red stars. ******* Ivanova walked tiredly down the hallway towards her quarters, envisioning a hot shower and a long nap. She hated it when John went off-station for long periods of time, it always seemed that everything chose that moment to fall down on her head. All the little details, broken oxygen sensors on the lower levels of Blue sector, downed security cameras in parts of Brown. And then these Warriors wandering around....it was not like they were causing any trouble...far from it in fact. But their very presence was an issue in itself. Luckily, now that they had been around for a few days...it was getting easier. She rounded a corner, and nearly ran into a tall, broad-shouldered Minbari...dressed all in studded black and cloaked in deadly competence. "Excuse me..." she said, her eyes traveling up wide chest to look into a pair of dark blue eyes. To her surprise, the face smiled and the head inclined in respect. She blinked. "Commander Ivanova, yes?" he said. His voice was rich and deep, his tone measured through the accent. "Uh, yes....Alit Trevann...right?" she asked, her brain switching back on with a snap as she pushed her hopes of a shower out of her head. "What can I do for you?" His head tilted slightly as he regarded her. "You are not busy at the moment? Perhaps if you could spare a few minutes...." "Of course..." she said. "But I thought that the preparations for Delenn's training were already taken care of....is there some other problem?" She slid her access card into the panel while she talked, and her door slid open. "Won't you come in?" He inclined his head again in the way that Minbari had. It had always made her think a little of a puppy she had had when she was a child. It would tilt its head just so at her when she did something it considered odd. She smiled a little to herself at the thought of comparing the Minbari behind her to a dog. After the big man had taken a seat on her couch, and refused her offer of coffee, she sat down and folded her hands in her lap. "What can I do for you, Alit?" she asked. "Trevann, please." he smiled. "I have found that it helps to be informal with humans. I have learned a great deal about you in the few days that I have been here. In fact, I have had occasion to change my opinion somewhat about you Earthers in general." "Ah... I see." she blinked. This was not what she had been expecting. Something more along the lines of changing the environmental controls in his quarters was what she'd thought he mention. "Does this surprise you?" he asked. "No. No....I've learned that for such a structured people...you do...unexpected things far more often that not." He chuckled. "Delenn was right about you humans so long ago. Perhaps we should have listened better, but then....hindsight is ....how do you say? 20-20?" Ivanova smiled and nodded wryly. "Tell me about it." "Well...I would. But that is not the matter that I came here for, and I am afraid that I have little time." his demeanor had become more serious now, and Susan leaned forward. He sat back and steepled his fingers in front of him. "I have had time here to talk to some of you who work on this station...and to some of those in the non-aligned worlds. About Delenn." Ivanova raised her eyebrows. "What do you need to know about Delenn? I would think her own people would know her better than we would...she's only been away from Minbar for four years..." "No, that is true. But she has ...become much more than she was before...and believe me, that is hard considering what her position was but a few years ago." He held up a hand to forestall the curiosity that bloomed in Susan's eyes. "I will not go into that. I will say that I have come to respect Delenn a great deal in the past week. I had no idea what she was about here, and it is an honorable thing she is doing. I think that if more of my Caste knew what I have learned, they would not be so hasty in their judgment." He sighed. "But heads can be hard...and our heads.." he paused to tap his sharply carved headbone, "..are harder than most." He smiled wryly, and Ivanova found herself grinning back. This man was more like a big, dangerous Draal than anything else. "I come to you now because I worry for Delenn." "What do you mean? The Captain told me that the training she is going through is mostly meditation and logical thinking." "In part, yes. But there is some physical discipline involved. Neroon has instructed the one who is training her to be easy on the physical aspects...because she is no longer fully Minbari." "Yes...so the problem?" "I think that the one involved may be harboring a deep resentment and hatred for Delenn and what she represents. She has made great changes on our world, and not all of us like them. Especially those in my Caste. I fear that he may be taking advantage of his position with her, that he may ..harm her." "Why are you coming to me with this?" Ivanova asked, feeling her stomach beginning to clench. "If you suspect this, why not just go and kick the guy out of there?" "It is far more complicated than that. The Cha'Trafa is sacred to us. It is essentially a ceremony in many ways. It lasts for 14 days...during which the trainee cannot have outside contact with the world. Delenn will not be able to leave, and none but the instructor can enter or depart from the room. No one else may talk to the instructor nor check on what is happening inside the room. It is part of the isolation of the experience that teaches the pupil self-discipline... for they have no one to rely on but themselves. I cannot break the law of the ceremony...but an outsider could do so without repercussions." "Well, I'll take a security team down there and open the place up if you think Delenn is in danger, but..." he cut her off with a gesture from one black gloved hand. "No. You cannot do it either. The Wind Swords who guard the door will not recognize your authority and there will be bloodshed in order to prevent you from desecrating the ceremony. It must be Sheridan. He is Starkiller, he is without honor. They will not deign to fight him...he is the only solution to this problem." "He's off-station..." Susan said, unaware that she had risen and begun to pace. "I can send a message, but at the most...he could be here in 4 days." She stopped to look at the man on her couch. "Are you sure that Delenn is in danger?" "I am not. That is why I have not come to you earlier. But the longer I think on it, the more that I fear it. If Larenn were to kill her...to kill Entil'zha...there would be a civil war back home. That is not something any of us would want." "No...and that's not something the captain would want either..." Ivanova muttered, not wanting to think what that would do to the man. "OK...I'll call Sheridan back, but I hope you're wrong about this. If this guy *has* hurt Delenn...I won't want to be five miles of it when the Captain gets his hands on him." Trevann nodded and stood. "Thank you Commander. I too, hope that I am wrong. But deep in my heart, I know that I am not." ********* John Sheridan sat uncomfortably in the hard metal chairs that the Gaim preferred. His breather was uncomfortable as well...and to make it all worse, he still didn't understand why he was here. There was something tickling the back of his mind, something that was trying to tell him something. Why *was* he here? So far, he and the Gaim representative had had several unenlightening conversations that had left him with a killer headache...and he still had no idea why they would ask him to come here in the first place. At least he knew a bit more about them now, that was a good thing. It was useful to know something about your allies...especially if they ever turned into enemies. Nice and cynical Johnnie ole boy, you're letting those screeching translators get to you. A tap on his shoulder nearly startled him out of his skin. He turned to see the representative...he thought that's who it was....standing there. "Captain Sher-i-dan. Come please. You have message." Sheridan nearly sighed with relief. Contact with the real world. He sat down at the console that the Representative pointed him to, and after a moment, figured out how to activate it. Ivanova's face appeared on the screen. "Captain, you need to get back to Babylon 5 right away." she looked serious. He knew that whatever it was that was wrong was probably serious, but he couldn't suppress the surge of thankfulness that came over him. He was getting out of here. "What's the problem, Commander?" he asked. She shook her head. "I'll tell you once you're on your way, just get here as soon as possible. Call me when you're on the Whitestar. Ivanova out." He sat back and frowned. What the hell? He pushed up out of his chair and went to find the Representative. He was going home. ********* Slowly, so slowly she woke. 'Cold,' she thought, 'never so cold...'Gradually she realized she was laying on the bare metal of the deck. Her head hurt so badly that it seemed as if the throbbing were outside it, a living force trying to invade her skull. On her bonecrest, each separate nerve ending seemed on fire. Even through her closed eyelids she could feel the light stabbing down through the darkness and realized that she was still within the chalked circle that Larenn had summoned her to - hours? - days? ago. She opened her eyes and the light felt like hammer blows against them. Summoning the tattered remnants of her physical reserves she pushed against the deck, trying to stand. It was dangerous to move if Larenn was still in the chamber, and she hesitated, reaching out with all her senses. Somehow, blessedly he was gone, and she crawled toward the pallet she was allowed for meditation. At least it was out of the direct light. Once there, she eased her aching body down and ran her fingers over her face. Crusts of blood marked the path of Larenn's gloved fist, and she winced when she touched them. One gouge was very near her eye. 'Thank Valen I can still see,' she thought. 'He is trying to maim me. His hatred is so strong he can no longer restrain it. I must go." Even as the thought came, the door to the chamber cycled open and Larenn strode back in. "Ahh, Delenn, have you had a nice nap? I see you've returned to your little pad, like a child in the nursery goes to her sleeping area when she is upset." He came closer, and the central light spread his shadow across the room like a monstrous thing. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. When Kabreen brought clothing and food, he brought news as well. Starkiller is dead." Delenn heard his words with indifference, still shaking with the bone-deep cold that had awakened her. She was used to his insults. "Did you hear me, Delenn? Starkiller is dead." This time his words penetrated and she jerked to her feet, standing woozily before him. "Wh - What did you say?" "The Shadows caught his transport three hours from the Gaim Hegemony, and blew it to bits. I'm afraid your great love affair is over." "John - is dead?" The enormity of it was too great for her to take in. How could he be dead? How could it end like this? Larenn's tone changed. "To the center, Delenn. We've no time to mourn. Your training is already delayed by your - weakness." Automatically she obeyed him, automatically her hands made the appropriate gestures, twisted the four-foot blade this way and that. She could no longer feel her hands or her fingers, or her arms. Her legs moved of their own volition, assuming the stances that Larenn called out. She accepted the casual strikes and blows that he meted out without noticing them in any meaningful way. 'John is dead.' The sentence repeated in her mind over and over like a mantra for meditation. Somewhere around the second hour, that mantra was replaced with another. 'I killed him. I sent him off the station. I killed John." Eventually Larenn called a halt to the practice session. Either he recognized her dazed state and honored her grief or her lack of response to his blows annoyed him, but in any case he let her return to her pallet. For a long time she sat staring into the darkness, rehearsing the new lament she had added to the requiem she recited fro the fallen Rangers. ******** 'Dead.' A procession of the dead marched forth. John Sheridan stood at its head, followed by her father. Next came Dukhat, a group of badly injured Narn, Ranger after Ranger, Minbari, Earther, the dead from the War, the dead she had ordered into battle, the dead they had fought against, an endless pustulent parade. They surrounded her. "Dead, Delenn," they chanted, "We are dead. You killed us. Blood on your hands, blood on your honor, blood on your family, blood on your clan. Dead. Dead." Their flesh melted and ran from their upright bones, and still they marched. "You. You did this. You killed us." Then there were others, Ivanova, Lennier, Garibaldi, G'Kar. "Dead. We join the dead. You will kill us, Delenn, you Delenn, you kill us." "Noooooo No," she screamed, feeling the weight of all those empty bones pressing against her, smothering her, killing her. "Now, now, Delenn. Did we have a bad dream?" It was Larenn's voice, unctuous and smooth . "Dreaming about the Captain's last moments?" He drew back his foot and sent his toe into her ribs. "I believe I told you not to sleep, min'cran, slut. On your feet. I am NOT satisfied with your progress." *********** Rapidly Larenn ran through the holds and methods of using a kim'jahz. Delenn concentrated fiercely. The short blunt club was designed to supplement the fighting pike, and to be used in hand-to-hand combat. She didn't understand why Larenn had chosen this weapon now. When Neroon and she had discussed the pattern of her training, he had indicated that instruction in the kim'jahz should have come much later in her training. But she had ceased to wonder too long, it was obvious now that Larenn was trying to break her down....using this ritual training for his own ends. Larenn tossed her a club which she caught with shaking hands. "Now." Slowly she worked her way through all the holds and thrusts he had just demonstrated. It hurt to breathe and she could barely see out of her swollen left eye, but still she managed fairly well. The last, a reversed thrust over the shoulder, designed to injure someone standing behind, was more than her sprained wrist could tolerate, and she dropped the kim'jahz. Larenn scowled. "Pick it up." Warily she bent to retrieve the weapon, taking care to expose as little of her body to him as she could, and shielding her sore knee. "Again." He worked her relentlessly until the actions were automatic and instinctive. Sweat dripped from every part of her body, making the club difficult to hold, and still he pushed her on. The last position was always difficult, but she was learning to compensate for the weakness of her wrist by turning slightly. As she completed the sequence again, Larenn stood to the side watching her and frowning slightly, but she ignored him, concentrating on the task oat hand. Rapidly she flipped the kim'jahz from hand to hand, miming thrusts and parries, stabbing the club at unseen opponents, and turning slightly for the last maneuver. As she did so a wave of pain swept up her right side, and she dropped the cudgel from nerveless fingers. Larenn rubbed his chin consideringly. "You open your side on the last movement. I was able to get inside your guard. I believe you will find I have broken one of your ribs." He smiled. -- He who laughs last thinks slowest! From Mmturner@aol.com Mon Dec 30 21:25:01 1996 Date: Mon, 30 Dec 1996 11:44:41 -0500 From: "A Page in the Life of ..." To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: Blood Lessons 3/3 This is our first collaboration, and we hope that you enjoy it. Our thanks to our beta readers for their fine suggestions. A WARNING: There are scenes in this story that are not for the faint-hearted. All usual legal disclaimers: Babylon 5 and its characters are the property of JMS and WB. Please do not copy or distribute this story without the express permission of the authors. Comments to Mmturner@aol.com and Analise@verinet.com Blood Lessons 3/3 by Analise Hairabedian and Mary Turner Delenn half-crouched before him, gasping for breath, the ache in her side like flame. "Again." Hesitatingly she began the sequence again, but her concentration was gone, and Larenn landed two more blows before she had completed a dozen maneuvers. The first landed on her already injured wrist, and the second hacked a piece >from her crestbone. "Again." Delenn took a moment before picking up the stick. "John," she thought. "John, you cannot save me now. Larenn means my death. If I am to see you again beyond the veil, I must survive him now." Painfully she began again, her movements slower, more precise, her concentration total. This time her kim'jahz made ringing sounds as it smacked against Larenn's. This time her opponent was not imaginary. Carelessly, he parried her thrusts, and tried to gouge again at her crestbone, but she had grown cautious, and dodged the blow. His eyes widened momentarily, and then he began to pursue her in earnest. She stumbled backwards before a flurry of blows, and then he was behind her. Instinctively, as he had trained her to do, she made the backwards thrust that he was expecting. As he moved to exploit her weakness, she turned the other way, so that his blow swished through the air to whistle past her shoulder. She turned inside his guard and rammed her club full-strength into the soft area just under his sternum. Already off-balance from failed blow, Larenn absorbed the force of her thrust and doubled over to slide down the wall behind him. "What have I done?" Delenn thought in horror, watching the blood-glaze rise in Larenn's eyes. With a roar he pushed away from the wall and sprang toward her. *************** The Whitestar hurtled through hyperspace as if the will of its Captain was pushing it onward. He stood at the most forward part of the bridge, almost touching the viewport....staring out at the red otherworld fury that they flew through. He was alternating between fury and concern. He had suspected that Delenn was hiding something >from him when she'd said good-bye to him in the launch bays. "Why," he thought bitterly, "Why did I listen to her? Why did I leave her alone with those damned Warriors? I knew she was still off-balance from the deaths of her Rangers. I should never have left her." It took all his will not to turn to Lennier and scream at him to make the ship go faster. Lennier was as concerned as he was. They'd been redlining the engines since they left Gaim space, and he knew it was taking all of Lennier's concentration just to keep the ship in one piece. The young Minbari had shaved nearly twelve hours off the journey. They were almost there....only a few more hours and this interminable flight would end. Eighty-four hours of excruciating worry. From the sound of the ship, it too, was about to come apart at the seams. He pounded his fist on the console. "Delenn, locked in a room with a madman." He thought how lovely she'd looked when last he'd seen her. Exhausted, grief-stricken, and the most beautiful woman in the universe. "Captain. If I could make the ship go any faster I would, I assure you. And you do not know that Larenn is mad. Commander Ivanova and Alit Trevann were only speculating. Admittedly, however, there is cause for worry." "Hunh? How did you...? Oh. I was talking to myself again, wasn't I?" Sheridan scrubbed his hand over his face. "Lennier, if anything happens to her..." "Yes, Captain, I know. I too, would be most - disturbed - if Delenn comes to harm." "Is Ivanova right?" He could still see Ivanova's face when he'd screamed at her to simply go down there and blow those goddamn guards out of the way. "You don't mean that, Captain." she'd said stonily. "Surely you realize what that would do on Minbar...the situation between the Warrior Caste and the Religious Caste is tense enough as it is. It would start a civil war." she'd sighed then, seeing his face. "Alit Trevann says that it might be nothing. It could just be a regular ritual going on in there....but he suspects not. Just get here as soon as possible. She's still alive, or he wouldn't still be in there with her." "I believe the Commander is. The guards would fight any security forces you sent in, and it would create tremendous difficulties for our government. But Starkiller.....Alit Trevann is correct. They will not sully their weapons with your blood. There would be no honor in it." Seeing Sheridan's face, Lennier continued, "I'm sorry, Captain." "No, it's just...I'm just thinking about Delenn." His fist were clenched so hard they ached. 'Faster,' he thought to the ship. 'Faster.' *************** Delenn crouched against the far wall, breathing heavily. The pike was slippery and heavy in her hands. Her hair stuck to her head in greasy little clumps. The room blurred before her eyes and she was having difficulty focusing. Larenn was here somewhere, hunting her like he had hunted ga'rak on Minbar, and she was so drained, so exhausted she almost didn't care if he caught her. She firmed her grip on the pike, forcing her cut palms to close around the haft. He had gotten her on her hip and she was certain that he had bruised part of her pelvic bone. It was beyond agony to move. Her splintered ribs made her heavy breathing so painful it was an effort to remain conscious. 'Odd,' she thought in a detached sort of way, 'throughout this entire ordeal, I have not given Larenn what he wants. He has been unable to break me. He may kill me....he probably will kill me, but he will have no satisfaction in the end result.' For the first time in days she smiled, cracking the blood that caked her face. A faint sound made her leap to the side, narrowly avoiding the swing of Larenn's blood covered pike. She rolled, ignoring the shrieking pain in her side and hip and came back to her feet, her body tensed. Larenn flipped the pike casually around, stepping closer to her. "You've learned better than I thought, but it won't help you. You will die here, and my Clan will be hailed once more on Minbar as her Saviors. We will have killed the false prophet, the Minbari freak, the upstart religious who dared to take what rightfully belongs to the Warrior Caste. What has been ours for a thousand years. Once again the Wind Swords will lead the Warrior caste Once again Minbar will resound to the glory of our clan-name Once again we will claim what is ours." His voice was a hiss, and Delenn retreated in the face of its venom. Larenn came after her with a cry, and she saw that he was injured as well. He was favoring his left side, and breathing stertorously as if she had damaged his chest with the blow to his sternum. She swallowed convulsively as he took another step towards her, a feral grin on his face. And then she felt her back hit the wall. "This is the end of the line for you, Freak." he sniggled a little, blood flecking on his lips, painting his teeth pink. He raised his pike and swung it at her head with all his strength. She waited till the last moment, and then ducked to the side. She was slower than he, the pike glanced off her shoulder and she imagined she heard a cracking noise...but she ignored it. Instead, she leapt for him, using the wall for leverage. . It was not what he expected. She forced him a few steps back, but he managed to block her blow. His eyes widened and then narrowed and he licked his lips slowly. Then Larenn flipped the pike up and began his onslaught. The clash and bang of the fighting staves echoed in the metal chamber around them, punctuated by heavy breathing and grunts of agony. Delenn's arms were on fire with pain as she repeatedly beat him off. He might be injured, but he was still far better than she would ever be with the pike and she knew it was only a matter of time before she would be unable to block his frenzied assault. "Freak" he wheezed, bloody spittle flying, "how dare you presume to lead the Rangers? How dare you pursue the fight that is ours by right. How dare you take up with that filthy human dog, Starkiller...how dare you?" his rasping voice was getting stronger and so was his attack. She parried a series of deadly blows with her waning strength ...feeling herself getting slower and slower.. And then he swept her legs out from under her and she crashed to the floor, landing on her bad hip. She was unable to keep from crying out. He stood over her, wheezing like a asthmatic, blood running freely down his chin. He lifted his pike, there was no reason left in his eyes. She was too tired to defend herself any longer. She was sure that her hip was now broken, she couldn't move if she tried. Delenn closed her eyes and waited for the blow to fall. "Valen save me." she whispered, and felt Larenn's fetid breath as he leaned over her, a grin on his bloody mouth. Tossing aside the pike, he reached down to wrap his hands around her neck. "Tears....you show your final weakness," he hissed through his teeth, blood dribbling down his chin onto her face. Slowly he tightened his grip, luxuriating in the steadily increasing pressure, watching her carefully as he squeezed, seeking the exact moment of her death. Delenn refused to die quietly. Desperately she clenched her hands in the fabric of his shirt, as black spots danced before her eyes. With all her feeble strength she thrust him back, futilely wrenching to be free of his grasp. The fabric tore free, and her hand flew loose, and then it closed again, clutching the hilt of the knife thrust into his belt. She yanked it free and with her last ounce of strength she thrust it at the yellow-eyed mad thing that howled his triumph above her. 'John, I love you. I am sorry I never got to tell you that...' she thought faintly. She felt the darkness hovering at the edge of her consciousness and then it overwhelmed her. ****** Sheridan lurched out of the shuttle bay and set off at a dead run for Grey sector. Ivanova panted beside him and so did Lennier. He stormed down the corridor, not caring that they had outdistanced the Security team long ago, not caring about the two imposing black-clad Warriors at the circular door to Grey 19, not caring about anything except for his need to see Delenn. The guards lifted their lips in a sneer at him and crossed pikes to bar his way into the chamber. Sheridan ignored their threatening words and their hate-filled glares. They were in his way and he bulled past them as if their weapons were childish toys made of synthalloy. Then he was through, into the chamber that stank of sweat and blood and hatred. Light from the corridor flooded the floor in front of the door, illuminating two black figures lying on the floor, one on top of the other. Sheridan skidded to a stop, horrified by the tableau. "They're both dead," he thought...his heart tearing. "Med Team to Grey 19, stat," Ivanova snapped into her communicator, shuddering as she took in the blood-soaked floor. "Lights, high," she ordered and the chamber blinked into relentless glare. "My God, what happened here?" she whispered as she took in the charnel scene. On the wall behind the broken figures, blackened blood had dried in a horrible sunburst, long streaking drips had crusted in permanent union with the hardened pools on the floor. Here and there, weapons were discarded... many of them splattered with blood. Bits of glass crunched under the feet of the stunned party as they moved towards the unmoving figures. Sheridan stood beside the bodies, afraid to bend down, afraid of what he was going to see. He lifted the black cloak still enveloping Larenn, and felt for a pulse. The Minbari's face was frozen in a snarling rictus of hate, one hand curled up and clenched around the hilt of a long-bladed knife that was embedded in his chest. Swallowing, Sheridan heaved the body aside, grimacing as he uncovered Delenn's slight form. She was completely still, and looking down on her, it was impossible to believe that anyone could sustain that much damage, and still be alive. He dropped to his knees beside her, ignoring everyone else in the room. One shaking hand reaching out to touch her ravaged cheek. "Delenn. Answer me honey. Please...please...." Ivanova came over to stand beside him, one hand coming up to cover her mouth as she saw Delenn's condition. "I'm sorry, Captain, but there's no wa --" her whisper was cut off. Impossibly Delenn's right eye opened. The left was swollen shut, and the rest of her face was so battered that it was nearly impossible to believe that the woman Sheridan was bending over was the elegant Minbari Ambassador, much less that she was still alive....but her chest moved slightly with her breath, and her cracked lips opened to speak. "John..." she smiled gently, knowingly, "I knew you would come. We are together where no Shadows fall..." ************** Dr. Hobbs walked out of the Isolab, wiping her hands on a cloth. Her face was tired, but satisfied. John had been slumped in a chair in the main Lab for several hours now. He was beyond exhausted, but he hadn't even considered sleeping until he knew that Delenn was going to be all right. As soon as the Doctor approached, he stood up, waiting for grim news. Dr. Hobbs seemed to sense his apprehension and she laid a hand on John's shoulder. "She'll be fine, but she's not going to be back to her old self for a while. Her injuries were..." she grimaced, "..extensive." She pushed John back down into the chair and settled into the one next to him, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "I can give you a rundown if you like, but let's just say that its a miracle that she survived. She must have a will like cast iron." John almost smiled. "She's stubborn all right.." He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his head. "Can I see her now? Is she awake?" "Yes, but she won't be for much longer. I gave her something to make sure she slept deeply...oftentimes, experiences like hers can give you nightmares, and she needs her rest right now. From what I've been able to determine, she's barely slept at all in the past 10 days." John stood, trying not to let his temper take him again as it had each time he'd thought of what had gone on in Grey 19. "Thank you Doctor.." he said almost absently, moving towards the Isolab. Hobbs stopped him before he got to the door. "One last thing Captain. For some reason, she thinks you are dead. I tried to tell her that you were still alive, but she didn't believe me." John blinked at her. "I thought I should warn you." At the opening of the Medlab cubicle, he paused to look at the slight figure on the treatment gurney. Her frail body barely lifted the covers, and she was swathed in so many bandages he could see little of her face or hands. It didn't matter. Once again they'd cheated destiny, and he could look forward to a future made happier by her presence. Delenn looked better than the broken woman he'd found in Grey 19, but not by much. He pulled up a chair next to the bed and took her unbandaged hand into his. Her eyelashes fluttered and she turned her head to look at him. Hobbs had given her several anti- inflammatories and her left eye was no longer swollen shut. There was nothing to prevent the shock in her green glance when she saw him. "John?" she whispered, tentative hope creeping into her voice. He brought her hand to his face, cupping her palm to his cheek, letting her touch him. There were tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. "I...I thought... Larenn told me that you had....that you were dead.." John had to lean forward to hear her, so quiet was the whisper. "I'm right here, Delenn. He lied to you." Sheridan struggled to keep the anger out of his voice. "He's the one who's dead." She closed her eyes and let her head fall back on the pillow. "In a thousand years, no Minbari has killed another Minbari, but I suppose I am no longer Minbari enough for that to matter." She sighed, and to his surprise, a faint smile crept over her face. "It was ...I think he was very surprised...at the end, that I did something so...horrible. I killed another Minbari...and it was he who gave me the strength to do it." She opened her eyes again and looked at Sheridan. "I cannot regret it. It had to be done. I owe Larenn a great deal, actually..." she said then, faintly. "What? How could you owe that animal anything? I saw that room. I - We can only guess what he did to you in there..." John's voice was rising even through his effort to keep his temper. "It was horrible, it was painful...and it was the only way to teach me what you have been telling me all along." she clasped his hand more tightly, bringing it to her lips. "I learned a great deal in that room, alone in the darkness with nothing but Larenn's hatred to keep me company. I had the strength to face him throughout the entire ordeal. I have the strength to do what needs to be done with the Rangers. What needs to be done to win this war." She smiled against his hand. "It was what kept me alive when I thought you were dead...even when I was lying there for that eternity... with Larenn's dead weight on top of me, unable to move him. I was so weak - too weak. There in the blackness of that room - with the blackness of his soul surrounding me - I knew I was strong enough to survive it." John shook his head, amazed anew by this woman he loved. And it was true. There was a strength in her voice now, something that had only been hinted at before, the strength of steel sheathed in velvet, strength written in blood, honed in fire, and tempered with resolve. Despite her injuries, Delenn seemed stronger than he had ever known her, and for some reason he was reminded of the hints of Delenn's power as Satai that Trevann had mentioned to Ivanova. It was there now....a confidence like iron in her voice. Her eyes were getting heavy, and he remembered Dr. Hobbs had given her a sedative. He stood, still holding her hand, and he leaned down to gently kiss her mouth. Then he carefully placed her hand on top of the sheet. "I'll be here when you wake up." he said softly and turned to go. She smiled again, her eyes closed now. He was almost out the door, when she stopped him. "John...wait.." her voice was slowing down. "Could you please...arrange to tell Neroon that the training was successful after all. And be kind to him. I'm sure he is as upset about all this as you are." "The Warrior Caste are going. Off. My. Station." "John, for me...and I meant to tell you...." her voice drifted lazily away and then she was sleep. John pushed away the temper that threatened to rise yet again when she mentioned Neroon's name. "If you want..." he said gently. ************* Neroon was in his quarters, as Trevann had expected him to be. He stood in the doorway and watched his oldest friend pace relentlessly back and forth. He let him continue for a time before he stepped in and sat down in a chair. He watched for a while longer and then he leaned forward. "Is this helping?" he asked, whispering in a conspiratorial manner. Neroon paused then and frowned down on his friend. "You did not come to me with your concerns. I find that you have worried all this time and you confide in humans instead...." Trevann had been expecting this. He only smiled and shook his head. "Neroon. You know as well as I, that I came to you first...and you told me the only thing you could. You were not in a position - after you allowed him to - train her - to do anything else at that point. You had to stand behind your aide...behind your decision. It is our way." He sat back and folded his hands. "You may continue to blame me now, if you wish." Neroon stared at him for a long moment, and then he sat down on the couch, putting his head in his hands. "This is unspeakable." he whispered. "Did you see that room? Did you see what he did in the name of the Cha'Trafa? This is a dishonor that will live for hundreds of years." "He was a madman, Neroon. That is not your fault. None of this is. If you must blame, blame the Universe...because you could no more have denied his right to lead the Cha'Trafa than you could have broken it in the way he did. It is part of who we are, our ritual, our tradition." "Maybe it is time that changed.." Neroon said, his face still in his hands. "I think so." Trevann said. "Who knows if this has happened before? How many times has an instructor taken advantage of the isolation of the ritual, of the silence and obedience of the trainee...?" "Times are changing, Trevann. We must change with them." He lifted his head and looked at his friend with red-rimmed eyes. "Delenn has known that all along." He gave a wry snort then. "It seems that she has taught us more than we have taught her...again." He stood and went to the window of his quarters, looking out at the false sky of Babylon 5. "How is she?" he asked quietly. "She will live. It will be some time in the healing, but she will live." "I owe her ...I owe Delenn a great deal now." Neroon said. "I have done wrongly by her. She placed herself in my hands for this training, and I turned and placed her in the fire." He stopped and took a deep breath. "And I owe the Captain an apology. I ...feel as though I have let him down as well." "If you can feel that way about Starkiller, then there is hope in the Universe yet, my old friend." Trevann said, getting to his feet and placing his hand on Neroon's shoulder. "Come, let's go to the Medical Facility and see if we cannot speak with Delenn. I think it is only appropriate that she decide what should be done with the Wind Swords...and you obviously have other things to talk with her about as well." Neroon nodded, and the pair of them walked out. ************ Sheridan was unable to sleep. Exhaustion prowled around him in the darkness of his quarters, but he could not find rest. He kept seeing Delenn....as she had looked when he'd pushed that bastard's body from her. He'd never forget how lifeless, and battered she seemed, or how he'd felt when she opened her eyes - eye. It really was a miracle that she was alive...that she was, more or less, intact...and that she had emerged stronger, with her usual calm serenity untouched by the physical and mental brutality she'd undergone. He'd seen things during the EM war...the sight of a battered body was not something that was easy to look upon, but to see the body of someone you loved in that state...he knew that it would haunt his dreams forever. He sat up. His eyes were heavy..he felt slightly sick to his stomach in the way that one gets when they've been awake for 72 hours straight. Sliding off the bed, he shrugged out of the uniform jacket he was still wearing, and padded across the floor and out into the kitchen. He reached under the counter and pulled out the Clan MacNish aged scotch and a glass. Taking both to the couch, he placed them carefully on the low coffee table and then sat and just stared at the far wall. That bastard. He wanted to go down to medlab and revive Larenn, just so he could kill him personally. And then he would do it again and again and..... Shaking his head, he leaned forward and poured himself out a shot of the scotch. What he really wanted was to kick Neroon's butt halfway across the galaxy. That s.o.b. was the one who had started this whole thing. He'd fed on Delenn's own fears and guilt, until he'd twisted her into believing that she needed to be more like them...the Warriors. Hadn't they realized that she was just as strong as they were? 'No,' he told himself, trying to be reasonable. 'They hadn't realized that. But,' he smiled grimly and downed the shot, 'they probably do now....if they have any sense.' He'd studied the faces of the two black clad men who'd been watching the door when they'd seen the inside of the chamber they had been guarding. They had looked like they wanted to be sick. At least Delenn's suffering at that madman's hands had had some effect on them. The door chime was going off, he realized suddenly, through the blaze of warmth that the liquor had burned through his exhaustion. He sat there, unmoving, while it went off again, and then he sighed. It wasn't like he was sleeping anyway. "Come," he called. The door started to slide open, a shaft of the corridor light striking into the darkness of his quarters. "Lights low," he added. They came up slowly, and he saw the broad form of Neroon standing there. Sheridan remained seated, unmoving, for a long moment...and then he stood. His anger was back, he wasn't sure that he wanted to control it. The only thing that kept him from beating the Warrior to a pulp (or trying to, a logical part of his brain said) were Delenn's last words in the Isolab a few hours earlier. He gritted his teeth. "Neroon." he said tightly, gesturing for the man to enter. "Delenn has asked me to tell you that you should not feel badly. She got what she needed from her ....*training* with that - that bastard." He was slightly gratified to see Neroon's eyes widen slightly in surprise. "I...see." he said heavily. John finally noticed how old and tired Neroon seemed. The fierce pride that the Minbari warrior always carried with him still burned in his gaze, but there were new lines on his face, and his eyes were rimmed with red. Some of the Captain's temper faded. This man had been just as betrayed by Larenn as Delenn had. It didn't stop John from taking a little pleasure in that fact....but it did make him feel a bit less hostile. After another long moment, John sighed and offered the man a seat...if only because he needed to sit down himself. "Delenn, " Neroon began slowly, "..is a remarkable person. I have never been able to understand her before, but after this...nightmare, I think that perhaps I can start to see." John opened his mouth to tell the man that he needed to stop learning his lessons with the blood of others...but Neroon cut him off. "No, let me finish, Captain." It seemed hard for the Neroon not to spit out the title, but he managed it. "The Minbari are creatures of tradition and ritual. We have lived this way for a very long time...we gain comfort in it. But the Universe demands change, and our people have avoided it. Rituals like the Cha'Trafa were set in stone long before Valen changed the structure of our society. There are certain rules that must be followed. When Larenn offered to teach Delenn, I could not refuse. When a warrior asks to teach another, it is his right. To refuse him is to offer insult." "You're telling me that you didn't want to *offend* that creep?" John asked, incredulous "That is correct." Neroon's shoulders were slumped, he rested his elbows on his knees. "Even though I suspected that he was ..not entirely whole, I allowed it. I thought that perhaps Delenn would teach him something as well..." "She did.."John said, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. Neroon raised his head. "Yes....remarkable. I told him to moderate his training of her, because she is no longer fully Minbari, she no longer has our strength. And it was she who survived him." He shook his head. "Remarkable.." he repeated. "Truly Captain, as I am sure you remember from the war, our warriors are quite impressively trained to kill." Sheridan nodded grimly, remembering. "She had the strength of body to survive what he did to her in there and the strength of will to kill him." Neroon sighed and continued. "If anyone had to learn anything from this experience ...it was myself. My entire Caste." "Delenn says that she is glad for what happened..." John said slowly. "She says that she got what she needed from the ritual. That doesn't excuse what happened to her.." his voice was low. "I do not know that *I* can ever forgive you for putting her in there with that man, but *she* has forgiven you...and I guess thats what matters." Neroon was shaking his head again, amazed anew by the Ambassador. "I would like to see her. I tried earlier, but you have posted security around the Medlab. I need to apologize to her myself." John frowned, his mouth a thin line of disapproval. "Captain," Neroon paused, as if trying to remind himself not to issue orders, or make his usual demands. "I must do this, for my own peace of mind." Sheridan sighed then. He lifted his link from the coffee table. "Sheridan to Garibaldi..." "Garibaldi, go" came the tinny reply. "Could you inform security that it's all right to let Neroon into Medlab?" There was a moment of silence. Garibaldi too, had seen Grey 19. "You sure about this Captain?" "He wants to - apologize to her. It'll be all right, Michael." "Sure thing Captain.." Garibaldi said, "That all?" "Yes, Thanks." Sheridan looked up at Neroon. "You'll be able to get in now...." he said, the look in his eyes the only warning that he needed to give the Minbari. Neroon stood. "Thank you Captain" He bowed to him over his hands. It was the first time he had accorded such respect to 'Starkiller', and Sheridan knew that more was changing in the Universe than the training rituals of the Cha'Trafa. And then he was gone, leaving Sheridan suddenly exhausted beyond words. He lay back on the couch, and considered what had just happened. Neroon's visit, he was sure, was a momentous event, but he was still so unaware of the intricacies of Minbari culture that he was unable to fathom all the implications. This much he knew. The Warrior Caste - all of Minbar - relied on its traditions like a stone building resting on rock. Now the rock was crumbling, cleft by Delenn. He thought of the changes wrought by her delicate hands and did not know whether to be afraid for her or proud of her accomplishments. One thing was certain. Delenn had forever changed Minbari society and there were those who would be reluctant to accept the alterations. For now though, he was content that she was safe and warm, healing from her ordeal, and that their futures seemed inevitably intertwined. He drifted to sleep thinking of her. ***************** Trevann was waiting outside of Medlab, when Neroon finally walked up. The older man said nothing, he just looked at his friend with a little concern. "Are you ready for this?" he asked. Neroon just sighed. "I think that you are in for a surprise, Trevann. The Captain has given me a hint of how Delenn feels about this affair." "Is she very upset?" Trevann asked heavily. "Apparently not.." he said, and walked through the Medlab doors, leaving his bemused friend to trail after him. Delenn was dozing when Neroon walked in and sat down next to the bed, letting Trevann stand in the doorway. He was astounded at the extent of her injuries. He reached out tentatively and brushed a bit of her...hair..back from her forehead. The scoring >from Larenn's spiked gloves was evident on most of her face. Her ribcage was heavily bandaged, her right wrist was in a cast, her pelvis seemed to be in some kind of brace, her bonecrest was cracked in one spot....He grimaced, remembering his own Cha'Trafa ritual. Bruises, a cracked shin, and few sprains. Nothing this ... extensive.. "How did she survive?" he asked himself, unaware he had spoken aloud, trying to imagine this slight creature standing up to...*beating* one of the best young warriors that Neroon had ever seen. He hunched his spine, resting his head in his hands. The Cha'Trafa.... he had thought he was being so magnanimous...so right to offer her the chance to become more like them. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that the main reason he had offered to help her in the first place, was because part of him had wanted the warriors to BE warriors again, even if they had to do it through Delenn. A touch on his knee made him look up. Delenn was watching him though exhausted green eyes. "Delenn..." he said slowly... "I wish I knew what I could do to right this wrong...I have no honor left...." A small sad smile touched her mouth. "Neroon...you thought you were helping, no matter what your reasons....and you *did* help me. I learned a great deal from Larenn....and I'm not talking about combat." her voice was soft and rough from days and days of disuse. "I was warned, Delenn...I was warned about Larenn, and I did nothing. For the sake of tradition, you lie here in this state." "I vanquished him." she said. And for the first time in a long time, Neroon heard the steel that was back in her voice. His head lifted a little. "I defeated him in more ways than just the fact that he is - dead. In that dark place, there was no tradition, no ritual. Just me....and Larenn's hate. And I survived it. I conquered it." she moved her hand to take his. A human gesture that was strangely comforting, he thought . "I know that that is not what you intended to happen, Neroon, but in the end, it was what I needed. A trial of fire to burn away the indecision, the guilt and the weakness that I cannot afford during this war. A trial that turned me into someone who can lead...who can fulfill the Rangers expectations, someone worthy of the title, 'Entil'zha'." Neroon shook his head, a small smile coming to his lips. "You did not need Larenn to make you worthy of the Rangers, Delenn. Perhaps you ARE the one that Valen spoke of in the Prophecies. No one else could be so forgiving. I said once, long ago, that you belonged with the humans, that you deserved each other. I think perhaps I was right then...only not in the way I meant." He squeezed her hand, and then set it down on the covers. Standing, he extended his hand toward her heart in a demonstration of respect and affection. Painfully, she replied to the gesture and then extended her own hand, smiling. "May Valen go with you, Neroon. And thank you." "And with you, Delenn." He moved towards the door where Trevann stood and then he paused and turned back. "And I thank you. You have taught us all a lesson...one you paid for with your own blood, we will not forget that. If you need me, I will be there. I owe you a debt of honor." and he bowed to her...and left. Delenn watched them go, a little curious about the other, the one who had winked at her in the spaceport an eternity ago, the one who had not spoken a single word to her. But they were gone. She closed her eyes, luxuriating in the feel of the soft bed and the warmth of the covers. She remembered as well, the warmth of John's hands on her own, and the touch of his lips to hers. The anguish in his eyes when he feared for her life had mirrored the anguish she had felt when Larenn told her of his death. Her ordeal had renewed her appreciation of simple daily pleasures and reaffirmed the bond between the human Captain and herself, as well as proving her mettle. Mercifully, the memories of her time in the dark were already fading. And as she slipped back into the comforting warmth of sleep, she said a small prayer for Larenn, alone in the vast eternity he now walked. ########### Comments welcome - Mmturner@aol.com / Analise@verinet.com -- The Senate shelved the crime bill until sometime next year. They're not even going to DEAL with it until next year....and then, MAYBE pass it. Now....how is it Congress can pass a bill on ethics, which they know nothing about -- but can't pass a bill on crime....which they've had TREMENDOUS experience with? -- Jay Leno