From: Jakhel@aol.com Subject: Virtual Season 6: Episode 8, Pt 1 of 6 Date: Thu, 23 Sep 1999 21:39:16 EDT [Cue Dramatic Music] TA'LON The Galaxy's Third Age began in fire. Out of the downfall of the ancient gods of order and chaos rose the Interstellar Alliance, the greatest confederation of life history had ever seen, led by the ancient people of Minbar and the brash young humans of Earth. [Images: the Battle of Corianna 6; the departure of the Vorlons, Shadows and First Ones; the President and First Lady of the ISA, John Sheridan and Delenn of Mir.] VIR COTTO But peace does not come without price. The Centauri Republic languishes in isolation, devastated by war, and the Narn Regime fights to rebuild its glory and power. [Images: the devastated Centauri Prime capital; the Narn and Drazi fleet on the march.] TESSA HALLORAN The politics of a score of races clash throughout the galaxy, even while Earth and Minbar battle the taints of darkness lurking in their hearts. [Images: a riot in the Zocalo; a Minbari warrior looks up out of a shadowed cloak with a grim glare.] DR. HOBBS Now more than ever, we need a place where life and love, peace and understanding are revered, where the strange is the everyday, and the old gods of war give way to the new god of wisdom. [Images: Dr. Hobbs at an alien's bedside; the Minbari ambassador Sherann laughing at a Rebo & Zooty video; Narn and Minbari bowing to an image of G'Kar.] ZACK ALLAN That place is here. A space station at a crossroads of the galaxy; a universe of races, beliefs and dreams, suspended in the stars; a place once known as the last, best hope for peace. [Image: a full velocity pass across the north pole of Epsilon 3, revealing Babylon 5 beyond. Then zoom in quickly . . . to reveal . . .] DAVID CORWIN The year is 2263. ELIZABETH LOCHLEY The place . . . is BABYLON 5. B A B Y L O N 5 T H E V I R T U A L S I X T H S E A S O N: "T H E P R I C E O F F R E E D O M" Starring TRACY SCOGGINS as Captain Elizabeth Lochley JOSHUA COX as Lt. Commander David Corwin JEFF CONAWAY as Security Chief Zack Allan STEPHEN FURST as Ambassador Vir Cotto MARSHALL TEAGUE as Ambassador Ta'Lon Also Starring MARJORIE MONAGHAN as Tessa Halloran JENNIFER BALGOBIN as Dr. Lilian Hobbs PERI GILPIN as Ambassador Sherann MALCOLM GETS as Officer Colin Ferris REGINALD VELJOHNSON as Sergeant Glenn Satamba BRAD RENFRO as G'Stral LEAH REMINI as Jamie Pratchett KIM STRAUSS as Ambassador Vizhak JONATHAN CHAPMAN as Ambassador Lethke Kullenbrok and JOHN SCHUCK as Draal - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - BABYLON 5 created by J. MICHAEL STRACZYNSKI THE VIRTUAL SIXTH SEASON produced by Stephen J. Barringer Anne E. Clements David G. Goldingay Gareth Williams HomePage at http://www.darkthunder.com/b5vs6/ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - DISCLAIMER BABYLON 5 and all characters and situations thereof are the creations and copyrighted property of J. Michael Straczynski and Babylonian Productions. All stories of the Virtual Sixth Season are non-profit creations for the purposes of private entertainment only. Original characters and situations are copyright of their authors. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - EPISODE 8 A W A Y I N A M E D L A B Written by ANNE E. CLEMENTS Author's Note -- This is one episode that is stone guaranteed to conflict with 'canon', in whole and in part, since I'm sure JMS has his own ideas on this particular situation, and it would be purest synchronicity if any of them came within shouting distance of matching ours. Given the timing and the circumstances, however, doing it was irresistible. As of this release I am unaware of any publication of Straczynski's version -- I only hope that I have managed to put together a plausible and interesting alternative, that can be enjoyed as such even after the Official Revelation comes down. (Needless to say, any inadvertent 'timeline convergence' will be noted with all due amusement and smuggitude.) Finally, I would like to dedicate this story to my son, James, and to a very new friend, Angela. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - <<< OVERTURE >>> Babylon 5 Customs area 04/09/2263 01:45 EST The man in the hooded robe awaited the verdict of the machine with apparent equanimity. No trace of conflicting emotions appeared on his pale, scarred face as he bowed politely to the young Security agent, reclaimed his false identicard, and slipped unnoticed into the crowd of those privileged to enter the great space station. Once past the barrier, he succumbed to the temptation to linger, to taste again that simplest of joys: people-watching. Once, in his innocence, he had taken such things for granted. Now he lurked, hidden in his cloak and in the shadows of an alcove, seeking out the shooting pain of a familiar face as one probes compulsively at a loosened and aching tooth. All too soon he was rewarded -- or punished -- with a pang of recognition. Ironically, the familiar face belonged to perhaps the most dangerous man on the station, from his point of view: Babylon 5's Chief of Security, Zack Allan. The dark-haired, craggy-featured Human, looking competent and even comfortable in his black-and-silver Army of Light uniform, was talking to a tall, equally competent-looking blonde woman in severely tailored grey. The two chatted easily while keeping an eye each on the crowd, and on the incoming passengers. It was obvious that they were waiting for somebody, and the identity of that somebody became apparent when another familiar figure came through the gate: the dark, compact, bullet-headed and grinning form of Dr. Stephen Franklin, formerly Chief of Staff for the station's Medlab facilities, and currently head of Earthforce's Xenobiological Research division. The hooded man instinctively shrank further back into his alcove as the three greeted each other warmly, a special spark passing between the doctor and the woman. Belatedly, the watcher realized that this must be the new Director of Covert Intelligence for the Interstellar Alliance, the former Mars Resistance leader, Teresa Halloran. Zack, too, felt a shrinking sensation at Tessa and Stephen's greeting. He quashed it sternly -- he and Tessa worked together when their jurisdictions or information sources overlapped (which was often), but that was it. And Stephen -- well, his friendship with the doctor might not be as close as his predecessor's, but it was definitely close enough to preclude poaching on Franklin's territory, even if the guy *had* moved back Earthside. So he shook off the twinge and returned the doctor's grin with unfeigned delight and a hearty slap on the back, reaching down to grab one of the several duffel bags Franklin was lugging. "Geez, you moving again or what?" he asked, half-seriously. "Well, it's late Autumn in Tuzanor now, and I could be there for as much as a month or two," the doctor replied, "so I figured I'd better come prepared -- by the way, have they arrived yet?" "Latest ETA is about 16:30 our time," said Tessa, "Which gives you plenty of time to get settled in. I reserved temporary quarters for you in Blue Sector -- Level 14, Section 9." Right around the courner from her own, Zack noted. Just then, another voice rang out over the crowd. "Tessa!" A tall, golden-haired man in black waved at them from the next customs line. So -- Ferris was back. All too soon, for Zack's money. What was it this time, some poor slob trying to slip under Psi Corps' nose on one of the outer colonies? At any rate, the station's resident Psi Cop was unmistakably headed their way. Zack sighed and let the duffel drop. "Hey, Tessa, Zack -- I'll tell you, I am SO glad to get back to civilization! You ever been to Flinn Colony? The whole place is built into the side of a canyon..." belatedly, the telepath realized that he was breaking in on a conversation already in progress. Apparently he'd just accepted the Security Chief's scowl as normal. Which it was, when directed at *him*. Tessa cleared her throat. Stephen put down a bag and stuck out his hand. "Stephen Franklin. How do you do?" The Psi Cop grasped the doctor's hand in his own -- gloved, of course. A flash of embarrassment was quickly replaced by his usual aplomb. "Dr. Franklin! Of course! Dr. Hobbs mentioned that you would be meeting the President and Entil'zha here. I've heard a lot about you -- I'm so pleased we have a chance to meet. Colin Ferris, MetaPol, currently based on Babylon 5," he explained hastily. Stephen reclaimed his hand, flicking a glance at Zack, who suddenly developed an interest in the other side of the room. "Yes, I've, uh..." he cleared his throat, "heard a few things about you, too." Colin's finely-chiseled mouth quirked. For a moment, the two men just looked at each other, neither entirely sure how to take the other. Tessa broke the moment. "Well!" she declared. "Stephen. Why don't we get you settled in. Would you guys like to meet us at the Zocalo later for a drink?" Colin diplomatically begged off -- it was late evening by the cycle he was on, and he had reports to finish before he slept. Zack was still looking off across the concourse -- there was something familiar about that guy in the hood..."Nah, I gotta go...why don't I...uh...catch up with you later..." distracted, he moved off, but by the time he reached the alcove, the cloaked figure had disappeared. ********************* Hyperspace 14:02 EST "We shall arrive at Babylon 5 in approximately two and a half standard hours, Mr. President. Is there anything else we can do for you in the meantime?" The hand-sized holographic image of the White Star's captain managed to convey both brisk efficiency and polite consideration, with only the slightest hint of annoyance at being drafted for Presidential yacht-duty instead of her usual border-triad command. Sheridan would have sympathized, if he hadn't had more urgent things on his mind. "Nothing, Val'na Lanniel," he assured her. "Just let us know when we get there." The image of the tall Minbari woman bowed and winked out. "Two more hours!" The President's wife exclaimed, maneuvering her unaccustomed bulk through the doorway of their sleeping quarters. "Is there something wrong with the engines? In Valen's name, I am sure the voyage from Minbar to Babylon 5 has never taken this long before!" John Sheridan put on his best 'placating difficult Ambassadors' face before turning to face the love of his life. Her body swollen with the last stage of pregnancy, even her hair in disarray, she bore little resemblance to the delicate creature he had first beheld, unveiled in the station's council chamber, a little more than four years ago. And while his love might be as deep and abiding as the endless depths of space, his patience, like hers, was wearing *just* a bit thin. "I thought you were napping," he said with careful control. The Entil'zha of the Anla'shok and Vice-President of the Interstellar Alliance produced a very unladylike snort. "I could not sleep. The bed is set for Minbari, and this...." she waved at the bulge swathed in purple silk "...PERSON seems determined to kick his way down to my feet by way of each internal organ in turn. "Ah!" she sighed, bracing herself against a table. "I will be SO glad when this journey is over!" A look of concern chased all else from Sheridan's face and he quickly moved to support her. However, he couldn't resist adding, "It was *your* idea to come out here to meet Stephen, Delenn. We could have stayed home in Tuzanor -- at least you would have had Jennifer to...ah...sympathize with you." Delenn smiled then, thinking of a moment slightly more than six months ago; watching the wife of her second-in-command, High Councillor William Westcastle, carrying their newborn twins cradled one in each arm as the pair's Minbari physician hovered protectively nearby. "No," she replied, "Between the little ones and her training duties, Sech Westcastle is much too busy to indulge in any...'bitch sessions'..." she flicked a glance at her husband, who smiled back -- as usual, she had guessed the words he had carefully avoided saying. "Besides, it is good for us to get away for a little while. And to see Babylon 5 once more..." John's grip tightened briefly in involuntary acknowledgement of the the fear they both shared, and that neither would admit. Delenn of Mir had been born Minbari, with perhaps the tiniest wisp of Human DNA inherited from her distant ancestor, Valen (otherwise known as her good friend, Jeffrey Sinclair). Four years ago she had undergone a transformation -- the reverse of Sinclair's -- that had metamorphosed her into nearly-Human form. The remnant of her Minbari bone crest was the only outward sign of her alien origin, but her internal functions were still slightly outside the Human norm, and her DNA was definitely hybrid. The fact that she had been able to conceive, without medical assistance, was either a miracle or some incredibly intricate design of the Triluminary's unknown makers. With careful monitoring by both Human and Minbari doctors, the pregnancy had progressed with only minor and transitory scares, but now, as the birth drew near, they faced the very real possibility that mother or child, or both, might not survive. It was for that reason that both Sheridan and Delenn had entreated Dr. Franklin to attend the birth, and he had agreed with only token protest. Franklin had been in on the beginning of the pregnancy -- not the VERY beginning, of course, but close enough -- and he was anxious to be in on the end of it, as a researcher, as a doctor, and, not least, as a friend. "Well, it won't be much longer, now. And with any luck Stephen will be there already," Sheridan pointed out. Delenn smiled wanly back at him. "It will be good to see old friends again. And perhaps, there, I will be able to rest." He sighed. "I must admit, after the last few weeks of Council meetings, I'm looking forward to a nice, quiet visit to the old stomping grounds." "As long as you do not do any *stomping* while I am trying to sleep!" his wife chided mischievously. Suddenly, a startled look passed over her face. "Delenn! Are you all right?" The pregnant woman took a deep breath. "I....I believe so...it was nothing, really. I think I will go back and try to rest some more, though..." she trailed off, heading back to the sleeping quarters. Her husband watched her go, more worried than he would let her see. -- To Be Continued -- From: Jakhel@aol.com Subject: VS6 Episode 8 -- Pt. 2 of 6 Date: Tue, 28 Sep 1999 20:26:56 EDT B A B Y L O N 5 T H E V I R T U A L S I X T H S E A S O N: "T H E P R I C E O F F R E E D O M" E P I S O D E 8 "A W A Y I N A M E D L A B" by ANNE E. CLEMENTS Featuring: Richard Biggs as Dr. Stephen Franklin Bruce Boxleitner as President John Sheridan K Callan as Dorothy Sheridan Mira Furlan as Entil'zha Delenn of Mir Rance Howard as Ambassador David Sheridan Bill Mumy as Lennier Carmen Thomas as Lyndisty Peta Wilson as Anla'Shok Val'na Lanniel Time Winters as Ambassador Rathenn Part 2 of 6 -- Disclaimers and other notes in Part 1. <<< Act 1 >>> Babylon 5 Blue Sector 04/09/2263 14:05 EST Tessa and Stephen are walking along a corridor, each burdened with a duffel bag, a carryall, and several months worth of unshared thoughts. Stephen is enthusiastically unburdening himself of the latter, while Tessa gives an occasional smile or acknowledging murmur. She has been anticipating this reunion with a certain amount of trepidation, and now that it is upon her, she finds her fears entirely justified. She likes Stephen Franklin. A lot. From the moment he was brought before her, outraged and defensive, in her secret Resistance headquarters beneath the sands of Mars, she was drawn to him. His compact form barely contained an irrepressible crackling energy -- the man was a veritable furnace of human warmth, and she turned to him as automatically and irresistibly as a sunflower turned toward the nearest star. The fact that his personality -- driven, yet compassionate and centered in a way generally found only in men given to more contemplative, not to say spiritual, callings -- seemed to fit seamlessly with hers didn't hurt, either. How many other men would understand so unquestioningly how her work had to take priority over personal issues -- for now, and for the foreseeable future? How many men would be willing to let her go her own way, yet be so gratifyingly affectionate whenever they did have a chance to be together? Let's face it, the guy's perfect. It scares the hell out of her. Not in the same way as staring down the barrel of an Earther PPG, of course, but the fact that there is no external target for her fear makes it almost worse. She's doing this to *herself*, and her normal coping mechanisms simply don't apply. Always before she has either been drawn to men she (safely) can't have, or picked up (and put back down in a fit of petulant disappointment) men who were *too* easy -- who weren't in her league. At first she had thought Franklin fell into the second category, but it didn't take her long to realize that he wasn't so easy to pigeonhole. As long as it was a matter of seizing desperate moments in the midst of chaos, that had just added to the intrigue. After spending several weeks together last winter, though, then having all this time to think, she's succeeded in working herself into a state of severe ambivalence. Maybe if they'd kept in touch by Stellarcom, this would all have been thrashed out, but they are both workaholics and neither is in the habit of sparing time for long-distance chats. So now he is making up for lost time, and has worked his way around to making noises about dinner -- and afterwards. "Dinner will be fine, Stephen, I'm looking forward to it," Tessa says, summoning up that bright, insincere smile that even the most unselfconscious of blondes (which she has never pretended to be, maintaining that a weapon is, after all, a weapon) is well-trained in from toddlerhood. "Afterwards, though, I'm afraid I've got some reports I absolutely *have* to finish going through..." she falters as she meets his calm, slightly amused but utterly undeceived gaze. "What is it, Tessa?" he asks gently. There is no way she can begin to answer that. Not here, not now. "Nothing," she replies, predictably. That won't do, and they both know it. "I just...look, the last time we were together, we were both in transition. I was just coming on board, you were getting ready to leave. But I WORK here now, Stephen, and it just feels... unprofessional, somehow." She looks at him, hoping he will understand. He understands, all right -- only too well. "You were *working* on Mars when we first met," he points out with ruthless logic. "That was different!" she protests. "We were fighting for our lives then. Any moment could have been our last..." "It still could. Especially around here!" he retorts with the voice of experience. "Look, Stephen, it's like..." she gropes for an analogy, "how would you feel if I descended on you at Earthdome, right in the middle of *your* busy schedule..." she stops as a huge grin lights up his face. Oh, damn. "I'd LOVE it!" he crows, that boyish enthusiasm swamping her defenses as always. Over his shoulder she notices a handy alcove. She is clearly losing the verbal battle, here -- to hell with it, she decides. She proceeds to shove the doctor backwards and silence his annoying arguments in the most efficient possible fashion. "Dinner?" he asks when she lets him up for air. "Definitely," she purrs. "And....?" "We'll *see*." Again, he is not deceived. **************** Customs area 16:36 EST It seemed as though half the station had turned out to meet them -- which shouldn't have been surprising, given the crowd that had gathered for their departure. And here they came trundling back a scant few months later -- 'trundling' being the operative word, Delenn admitted ruefully as she tried, unsuccessfully, to resist the tendency to waddle. It was amazing how awkward an extra ten Earth kilos or so could be, even when arranged in what evolution had decreed to be the most efficient arrangement possible under the circumstances. However, long years of deportment training dictated that she maintain a stately and dignified bearing and she did so, leaning only a little on John for support. "May I see your identicards, please?" Zack Allan was grinning from ear to ear as he made a great show of checking their i.d. before allowing them to pass the gate. "We don't allow just any old riff-raff onto this station, you know!" "Yes, we only want *properly credentialed* riff-raff," chimed in the Minbari Ambassador Sherann mischievously. Her fellow Minbari, Interstellar Alliance Ambassador Rathenn, stood beside her, clad in traditional Religious Caste robes and a look of startled discomfiture at his Worker Caste colleague's lack of decorum. "Waaall, under the circumstances, I think we can prob'ly prevail on the Captain to make an exception," drawled Earth Alliance Ambassador David Sheridan, clasping his son's hand in a warm grip. Captain Lochley pursed her lips in mock deliberation, then nodded sharply, a grin stealing over her face as well as she met the smiling gaze of the *former* commanding officer of Babylon 5. Meanwhile, Ambassador Sheridan's wife, a small, neatly-coiffed blonde woman in her late sixties, had joined the medical contingent (Dr. Franklin and Dr. Hobbs) in converging upon Delenn. "How are you doing, my dear?" she asked. The other two contented themselves with eyeing the pregnant woman professionally, then exchanging Significant Looks. Delenn, preferring to save the technical discussion for a more appropriate venue, responded to all three in purely social mode. "Most glad to be here, and especially to see *you* again, Dorothy!" She maneuvered carefully to hug the older woman, then clasped hands with each doctor in turn. "Dr. Hobbs," she smiled brightly, mutual respect declared and acknowledged. "Stephen!" warmth suffused her voice -- and something else, that made his eyes narrow briefly. "Why don't we get you two settled," he said immediately, with a doctor's careful lack of urgency, "and then we can catch up over a pot of tea or something, all right?" he looked to the other two for confirmation, and, neither being slow on the uptake, received it. Delenn smiled at him gratefully, and was just turning to get John's attention when a spasm of completely unprecedented tone and intensity swept over her. "Oh!" she cried out, clutching protectively at the affected area. John and Stephen nearly butted heads reaching for her, while Dr. Hobbs raised her link to call for help. "I'm alright," Delenn gasped, "It's just...OH!" she said again, and abruptly realized that the time for being noble was past. **************** Zocalo 18:42 EST "So is this *it*?" Zack asked Dr. Franklin, encountering the latter on the catwalk overlooking the main floor of shops and shoppers. Stephen shook his head. "False alarm. I've sent her on to her quarters, with strict instructions to *rest*." He sighed heavily. "The tests all came back normal -- whatever the hell *that* means. She's ready to pop, though. She never should have risked travelling at this point. On the other hand, it's still a month before the last estimated due date, so..." "Yeah, I know, babies always come when THEY want to, not when you think they will," Zack repeated by rote, thinking of his aunts and sisters, whose long and involved gestational anecdotes had contributed to many an excruciating holiday get-together. "I think that's one Universal Law that no level of technology will ever get around," agreed the doctor, "even *without* the cross-species complications. At least," he added, looking on the bright side, "It looks like I'll be able to make my dinner date with Tessa!" Meanwhile, Zack's ever-vigilant attention had been caught by a conversation taking place on the main floor below. "Uuuuuuuh-huh," he replied, skepticism mixed with warning in his voice. "What?" asked Stephen, and turned to follow the Security Chief's gaze. Down on the floor there was an eddy in the flow of traffic, where Officer Ferris and Director Halloran were engaged in conversation. Their words might be lost in the rumble of the crowd, but their body language spoke eloquently of a growing friendship with more than a touch of physical awareness, not to say flirtation, involved. "Uuuh-huh," Dr. Franklin agreed. "Oh," Zack put in quickly, "I don't really think you have anything to...." Tessa was walking away from Colin, who stood looking after her, gloved hands clasped behind his back. Just before she was swallowed up by the crowd, she glanced back over her shoulder -- the Psi Cop looked away just in time. "....worry about." "Worried!" Stephen said quickly. "Nah, I'm not worried. I mean, what's to worry *about*? After all, it's not like we're...I mean, I don't have any... well, that is, we're....just good friends," he ended, doing his best to look confident and earnest. Zack grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. "Yeah, well, just be glad it's not ME that's the telepath!" the Chief advised, before heading off down the catwalk. Franklin stood there a moment longer, watching Ferris watching the direction Tessa had disappeared in, then shook his head and went on his own way. ***************** Green Sector Guest Quarters 18:48 EST "WHY will this foolish mechanism not operate properly? I CANNOT sleep flat on my back with this great....OBJECT crushing me..." Delenn leaned against the wall of their sleeping room, exhausted after an unsuccessful bout with the tilt mechanism of the generic-style bed. "I've called Maintenance, and they say they'll be here momentarily. What about, um, using some pillows to prop yourself sort of..." John gestured descriptively, "sideways?" "SIDEways?" Delenn gave him one of her 'what bizarre and unsavory concept has that deranged Human come up with THIS time?' looks, then looked again at the bed, which remained stubbornly horizontal. "Here, I'll show you," her husband said, and grabbed some cushions from the couch. As he was arranging them, the door bleeped. "Ah, that must be Maintenance now," he grinned, and went to answer it. His face fell when he saw who was standing outside. "Oh, it's just you." The two Minbari looked at each other, then back at Sheridan. "I apologize if we have come at a bad time..." Ambassador Rathenn began. "No, no, not at all, it's just....well, maybe it's not exactly a *good* time," he admitted. "Of course not," Ambassador Sherann agreed, smoothly maneuvering herself inside the spacious guest quarters. "There is no such thing as a good time when one is awaiting a birth. I believe the doctor said you were supposed to be *resting*?" she continued, addressing Delenn, who was still standing braced against the wall. The two males watched in helpless admiration as the tall Minbari woman managed to get the smaller (if temporarily bulkier) one settled in what was apparently a relatively comfortable position. Sherann drew the sliding doors together behind her and rejoined the others. "There, I think she will be all right for a while." "Computer," Sheridan directed, "Block ambient sound to sleeping quarters." "*Acknowledged*" a disembodied voice replied, and the air near the inner doorway went dead. "*Thank* you," he said earnestly to Sherann. "I hate to say this, but it's been...a LONG few days. I just hope she's all right. Stephen said her endorphin levels are high for a Human, but it doesn't seem to make her any easier....make her feel any better, I mean." "Perhaps it is the strain of trying to function normally at this time," suggested Rathenn. "Among our people, women in this...ah...state are secluded, gathering together with others in the same condition to meditate in serenity upon the lives that they are returning to this world." Sheridan looked thoughtful. "I hadn't noticed, We haven't been around many pregnant Minbari women, I'm afraid. I told her she should take some time off, but she wouldn't hear of it -- said she'd rather keep busy, but maybe that's just because she thought that's what Humans do..." he looked to Sherann. "Is this true? I don't recall from your dossier, have you....?" The Minbari Ambassador smiled and shook her head. "No, I have not borne a child. It IS our tradition to gather together with other women at this time. As for the 'meditating in serenity' part, though...you are aware of the Minbari tradition of reserving knowledge to those who have immediate need of it?" "All TOO aware!" Sheridan assured her. "Well, let's just say that there are some things men, and women who have not yet borne children, do not need to know." "I see...so....how do YOU know about it?" he wondered. Rathenn appeared to be struggling with an unseemly curiosity himself. The tall ambassador beamed smugly at both of them. "I am Worker Caste, Mr. President, and we are not so strict about such things. Also, with two line-sisters and five clan-sisters, well...let's just say 'word gets around'!" Rathenn cleared his throat. "Mr. President, we should be on our way. We just wanted to be sure that the Entil'zha was well." He looked pointedly at his compatriot. "Now we must let you *both* rest!" Sherann agreed, and they took their leave. Unwilling to risk disturbing Delenn, John flopped bonelessly into a soft chair to stare sightlessly at the ceiling, caught, as so often before, between hope, fear, and total exhaustion. **************** Brown Sector 20:16 EST Lyndisty locked the door behind her carefully, grateful for the high- quality lock that G'Stral had provided -- at a price, of course. Not that her little Center contained anything of great value in the usual sense, but even the common medicines and scanty food reserves, the hardcopy books and frayed blankets she had collected would be treasures worth stealing to some of the poor wretches that inhabited these forsaken corridors. More than that, just the psychological effect of knowing that there was one safe, secure place in this warren meant a lot to those who came to her for guidance and help. In fact she had a cabinet, donated by a sympathetic Llort businessperson who had hired several of her "friends", where they could put small items for safekeeping. The new draz -- Dasouri, his name was -- had given her a small pouch that very day. He had sworn it contained nothing stolen or of great monetary value, yet he had handled it as though he was entrusting one of his hearts to her, before embarking on a long journey into darkness. She shook her head at her fanciful thoughts -- hers or her Companion's, she often found it difficult to distinguish these days -- and headed off down the hallway. There was the Job Skills meeting tomorrow, and the volunteer teacher was working overtime at his regular job, so she'd probably have to take over the children's class again... Lost in thought, she barely noticed the furtive shapes around her as she strode confidently through the maze of Brown Sector's highest levels. Frail Centauri maiden that she might appear, her slight body was strong and supple, well-trained in the martial arts of her people that had been drilled into her from childhood by her most-pragmatic stepfather. Besides that, Lyndisty Marrago was known in Down Below -- and known to have friends that it was NOT healthy to anger. Apparently this knowledge was not universal, however. Lyndisty suddenly realized that the corridor around her was empty, except for two large Drazi blocking her way. She turned, to see another pair step out from the shadows behind her. She turned back, identifying the larger draz ahead as the leader. "I have no currency, and my identicard requires voice confirmation," she told them firmly. Showing fear before Drazi was always a bad idea, she knew, while threats would only enrage them. Short, factual, and to the point was best. "Let me pass," she suggested. The big draz grinned -- not a sign of friendliness in a predator of any species. "Thieves we are not," he growled. "Information we seek. A draz, we seek." A chorus of supporting growls echoed around her. "A traitor, who spews the mealy-mouthed words of that weakling Narn, G'Kar! Where is he?" "I know many Drazi, but I do not generally discuss philosophy with them," Lyndisty retorted. "This one, you know. He has been seen at your...place. Where is he now? You WILL tell us!" "I do not know -- and if I did," she said rashly, "I would certainly not tell *you*!" With a hiss, the Drazi edged closer. "Centauri witch!" one snarled. "You are all filled with treachery! Your ships attacked ours without cause, and now you hide this....spawn of wall-crawling bug-eaters!" "They say she teaches the lurkers -- now we teach *her*!" another suggested. "Is this the Drazi Hunter's pride?" she spat, trying to turn so as to get her back against a wall. "Four of you attacking a single female?" "Centauri females are as poisonous as their mates!" the second draz observed, and all four of them came at her in a rush. She hiked up her long skirt quickly, aiming a kick at the closest. Unfortunately, her target was less vulnerable than the same spot on most humanoids, and she found herself grabbed roughly and tossed to the floor. She rolled and tried to come up slashing with the dagger drawn from its hidden sheath, but a huge Drazi fist came down and knocked the weapon from her hand. Another grabbed her other arm -- she pivoted and came around with a buffet to his earhole, but her striking arm was seized before she could connect. The two who held her pushed her back against the wall, and the leader grinned at her from beyond the range of her kicking feet. "Dropped this, you did," he said, brandishing the knife. "Now, where is Dasouri?" At last, she gave in to the urging of her Companion and began to scream. ---- To Be Continued ---- From: Jakhel@aol.com Subject: VS6 Episode 8 - Pt. 3 of 6 Date: Sun, 3 Oct 1999 18:21:06 EDT B A B Y L O N 5 T H E V I R T U A L S I X T H S E A S O N: "T H E P R I C E O F F R E E D O M" E P I S O D E 8 "A W A Y I N A M E D L A B" by ANNE E. CLEMENTS Part 3 of 6 -- Disclaimers and other notes in Part 1. Act 2 ----- Babylon 5 Brown Sector 04/09/2263 20:32 EST The slim strength of the Centauri girl was no match for the two Drazi who held her pinned against the wall in one of Down Below's darkest corridors. Her Vendrizi symbiont -- a peace-loving creature who had aided and comforted her immeasurably in the last hard months -- had nothing to offer in this extremity. The largest Drazi grinned at her with a reptilian leer, while another stood at his shoulder, savoring her terror. "Screams will not save you," the Drazi leader said. "Not in this place! Tell us what you know of draz we seek, and we *may* let you live, Ssssentauri!" The dagger he had stolen from her glinted in his taloned fist. Fury outweighing her fear, Lyndisty spat full in his green-scaled face. He reared back, hissing, but before he could strike, his attention was diverted by a *THUMP* at his side. He turned to snarl at his companion, but a flash of metal appeared at his temple, and he, too, fell. Before the two who held her could react, the pike lashed out again, to the upper arm of the one on her left, then up to the jaw of the one on her right, flinging him back. The remaining draz managed to hold onto her with his bruised arm -- but not for long. No sooner did the other's grip loosen than she pivoted, pulling him *toward* her and driving stiffened fingers deep into his armpit. With a howl of anguish he stumbled forward, nearly trapping her hand in his instinctive reaction. As he regained his balance and turned to face her, she grabbed up her dagger from where it had fallen and advanced upon him, her own small fangs showing in a mirthless, predatory grimace. Though she was only the adopted daughter of Lord-General Marrago, her true parents had been sworn to his House for many generations -- staunch retainers of a long line of warlords. The fire of ancient Sint'Aur blazed in her long- lashed eyes, and the injured Hunter quailed before her. He turned to run -- lost in rage, she would have pursued, but a firm thought from her Companion stopped her, bringing her gently back to reason. She shook her head as if to clear it, then turned back to see how her rescuer was faring. Not well, as it happened. The first two Drazi had recovered, and all three were attacking the slender, pale-headed figure in dark robes. The leader had unsheathed a long, serrated Drazi knife, and the other two brandished businesslike truncheons. The Minbari defender's pike whirled with blinding speed as he feinted and parried, but against three he was hard put to avoid the occasional blow. As Lyndisty watched, the Drazi leader leaped in and scored a slash down the Minbari's side, before being slammed aside on a backswing. The third draz raised his truncheon to strike as the Minbari engaged the second -- but Lyndisty's dagger flew, and he was down clutching his belly. The Minbari flattened his opponent and swung back to send the leader flying into the wall yet again. He paused, panting, and for a moment his eyes met Lyndisty's. "Security! Freeze!" The Minbari glanced down the hall, and Lyndisty saw a flicker of fear cross his face before he turned and ran. "Wait!" she cried, and she hiked up her skirts again, jumping over the unconscious Drazi to follow him. Ducking through side tunnels and low passageways, she finally caught up with him when he sagged against a stack of crates, blood seeping through his dark robe where the Drazi leader had slashed him. "I think we've lost them," she said, looking back. "Why....did you follow?" panted the young man -- she could see now that he *was* young for a Minbari, no more than a double-handful of either of their years older than her. His face was gaunt, as though he had not eaten well for a long time, and his eyes were dark and haunted. Deliberately, Lyndisty kept her own voice gentle as she replied. "To thank you, of course. You saved my life back there. I don't know why you're running from Security, but in any event I owe you a great debt, An'la Shok....?" she fished for a name. His response startled her. "No!" he cried sharply. "Not...any more." "Ah," she nodded briskly. "A misunderstanding of some sort, I gather, since you are obviously a good and noble man." Not only her own instincts, but those of her Companion assured her of this. His mouth twisted as if to deny it, and he turned away. As the light from the cross-corridor struck the unscarred side of his face, Lyndisty said suddenly, "Don't I know you? I know I've seen you before -- have we met? Perhaps..." "No!" he said again, pulling his hood up to hide his features. "I am nobody -- nothing. Merely a passing...shadow." "Well, *that* you most certainly are not!" protested the Centauri, smiling winningly. "You walk upon two legs, not six. You have two arms, two eyes, and those are -- " she leaned forward to check " -- brown!" He flinched back, wincing. "And you are hurt! Come, let me help you..." "It is nothing," he protested. "Oh, but it is obviously *something*," she assured him. "I think it is *so* ridiculous when people claim that something is nothing. Claiming that nothing is something is almost as bad, but..." chattering on disarmingly, she managed to get him up, leaning on her slim, strong shoulders as she led him away. Taking side corridors and avoiding populated areas, they returned safely to the Center. She unlocked the hatch and led him inside, ushering him to a cot and switching on a bright, battery-powered lamp. Using simple but effective first aid supplies, she dressed his wound and salved a few other bruises. When she was finished, she lit several sets of the cheap, mottled candles used by the lurkers and switched off the electric light. "Would you like something to eat? I think there are a few paks of something Minbari around here somewhere..." "No, thank you, I had something in the Zocalo earlier. Thank you, for..." he indicated his bandages, pulling his chemise back on over his pale, hairless skin. She noticed that he was seeping a bit about the chest and shoulders, from shock and stress, most likely. "Here, at least have some water -- you don't want to get dehydrated. My name is Lyndisty, by the way. And yours is?" Her open curiosity and bright, smiling eyes belied a relentless determination. The Minbari smiled ruefully back and gave in -- to a degree. "You may call me...Marrain," he said at last. Lyndisty frowned, tracking down the reference -- her Companion supplied it, and she gasped. Minbari, with their firm belief in reincarnation, were very careful about re-using names, and it was doubtful that this one had been used in the last thousand years. The Betrayer of Valen -- it must be an alias, but what a choice! With an effort, she composed herself. Whatever his trouble, having her jump at every revelation like a skittish *dono* wasn't going to help. "Very well.....*Marrain*....what brings you to Babylon 5? Or is that another thing I'm not supposed to ask?" She flung a smile over her shoulder the sting out of her words as she bustled over to the storage cabinets. "I don't really know," he replied thoughtfully. "I shouldn't have, I know that....but it was as if I was...drawn, somehow." "This place is like that," she agreed. "Of course, I had an excuse. Aside from, well, some other things that were going on at the time, my intended husband was here. He still is, of course. It is a great comfort to me." "It must be...pleasant...to have a heart so..." he hesitated, "well- ordered." She looked over at him curiously. "I know," he said, "Minbari are supposed to be so, but..." he trailed off, as if realizing he had said too much. She came back over to him with an armload of blankets. "I know -- that is," she caught herself. The Vendrizi were understandably wary of revealing their presence to strangers. "I have a *friend* who knows many old tales of the Minbari, from before Caste and Clan -- " the young man who called himself Marrain smiled at the phrase, obviously thinking she meant it idiomatically, as a Human might say, 'older than God'. "Apparently back then, Minbari hearts were not always so 'well-ordered', either!" she observed. He assured her that he was, if nothing else, a very *modern* Minbari -- too much so, many had said. "But old things can keep a deep hold upon us," she insisted. "For instance, the ancient rivals for our world, the Xon, were much like the Narns in appearance, and I believe that this may be the basis for much of our attitude towards them. When I am distracted or come upon a Narn unexpectedly, my instinctive reaction is still 'Agh! Beast!' -- Even though I know better now and have several Narn friends: G'Stral, Ta'Lon..." "You...*know* Ambassasor Ta'Lon?" the Minbari seemed startled. "Why, yes, he is a good friend of my intended husband...well, perhaps 'friend' is not the best word -- the mutual respect of colleagues might better describe it." His eyes grew sharp in a face of cold marble. "Might I ask the name of your...intended?" "Why, it is Vir Cotto -- Ambassador Cotto, of course. We were to have completed our marriage several years ago, but what with one thing and another ...are you all right?" The young Minbari was not in the least all right. He had slumped against the wall, covering his face, as a man in mourning or deep despair. Concerned, she sank down beside him, daring to rest a small hand along the back of his crest, but saying nothing. Eventually, he regained control and apologized. "I am sorry, but..." he took a deep breath. "The Ambassador and I were once....very close." She must have stirred, because he looked up with a wry smile. "Not THAT close! It is just that I have come to realize in the past months how few people in my life were really important to me -- and he was one of them. Somehow, hearing his name again, knowing *you* were the one he spoke of..." he shook his head, unable to explain what had come over him. "They have all have been lost to me, one way or another," he murmured. "Vir, and Marcus, and...*him*...and....her..." the last word was no more than a breath, as he turned to the wall once more. Lyndisty said quietly, in a deeper voice than was her wont, "I think those old stories may have more relevance than you think, my tormented friend....at any rate," she continued in a louder and lighter voice, "You should spend the night here. There is a room at the back, with another cot, see? I am afraid it is flat, but we can prop up one end on this chest, like so..." Once again, her light chatter soothed and distracted him, and before he knew it he had been tucked into the propped-up cot like a child with a fever. Before she left, he entreated her to tell no one of her presence -- least of all the Ambassadors! She was reluctant at first, but he assured her he meant neither them nor anyone else any harm. She looked long and searchingly into his eyes, her own gone deep and ageless as an unplumbed ocean. At last she nodded, passing a light hand across his brow. Sleep fell upon him like a warm, soft blanket, and he knew no more until the morning. **** Captain's Office 04/10/2263 09:14 EST There came a light tapping at the doorframe. The Captain looked up, then leaned back in her chair, glad for a break from the incessant paperwork. "Officer Ferris! I heard you were back. Did everything...go all right?" The tall, blond Psi Cop shrugged and strolled over to perch on the corner of the Captain's desk. "As well as could be expected, I suppose. Did I miss anything exciting here?" Lochley shook her head, lips pursed consideringly. "Nope, just the usual -- mysterious travellers, shady characters, the odd explosion -- nothing out of the ordinary." Colin flashed a grin. "I saw the repair crews outside Red sector on my way in -- did someone have an accident?" "In a manner of speaking," Lochley agreed grimly. "Five dead, a few more injured, and of course the perp got away clean. Zack did his best, but...well, it's a long story." "I did get my perp," Colin returned, "but the body count was..." his mouth tightened, "a little higher." "You want to talk about it?" she invited. She waved at the overflowing desk. 'This is busy work, really. Lieutenant Corwin has C&C in hand, and I'm just...well, honestly, we're *all* just holding our breath waiting for Delenn to pop. Figuratively speaking, that is," she added hastily. "Is she that close? Wasn't it dangerous for her to travel?" "It wasn't *supposed* to be, but you know what they say, babies come when they want to, not when you expect them." "Yes, I've heard that." He looked at her suddenly. "You haven't, um..." She looked up in surprise. "What? Oh! Ah, no! No, not...um...no. You? I mean, do you, ah, have any children?" "Not that I know of," he replied automatically. Their eyes met and they both sobered, remembering that, given Psi Corps' high-handed tactics, that *wasn't* really a joke. "So," Lochley said quickly, "Tell me all about Flinn Colony!" Which he proceeded to do. The former mining outpost had survived the Shadow War and the Earth Alliance civil war, and had even prospered in the past few years. Though over 90% of its population was still concentrated in the colony carved out of deep canyon walls, that colony had spread until it might legitimately be called a city. And every city has its dark side, its predators. When it became clear to the colony's police force that one of those predators -- a singularly vicious serial killer -- must be a telepath, they had called in the Metasensory Police: the Psi Cops. Colin Ferris, as the closest MetaPol officer, had been assigned the task of running down the renegade, with only the help of the handful of local commercial telepaths to supplement the wary assistance of the mundanes. It had been a long, hard chase, and the blip, a psychopath who had managed to hide his "talent" from everyone around him until his blood lust had gotten out of hand, had brought down half a dozen more innocents between Colin's arrival and his inevitable capture. Colin spared Lochley the details, but she got the general idea. "Sounds like a nasty customer," she observed. "To say the least," Colin agreed. "On the other hand, though, it was the kind of case that actually makes me feel *good* about my job, as opposed to... well, certain other situations I've been involved in lately." Lochley stood and paced over to the window, hands behind her back. "It's been a rough few months, there's no denying that. But there's also no denying that you've had an effect on people here -- a *positive* effect," she qualified, turning back. Colin laughed. "I suspect our Security Chief would dispute that!" Lochley shook her head and wandered back to perch on the other corner of the desk. "Zack...well, Zack may take a little more work. But I think it's safe to say that...several people here missed having you around the last few weeks." Colin smiled. "You know, I don't think I've ever heard that before -- at least not from, ah, *non-telepaths*." Lochley smiled back. "Well, you heard it here first," she pointed out. "Am I interrupting something?" Dr. Franklin stood in the doorway, looking quizzically at the two of them. The Captain stood quickly and moved to greet him. "No, of course not, we were just touching base..." the doctor's eyebrows rose. "I mean, catching up -- Officer Ferris has been away on assignment. Is there something I can do for you, Doctor? Is Delenn all right?" "We're still waiting," Stephen replied. "I just thought I'd stop by and ...touch base. Dr. Hobbs tells me things have been normally crazy around here since I've been gone." The Captain and the Psi Cop exchanged wry smiles. "I'd say that's a pretty fair statement," said Lochley. "I hear you've had some adventures yourself, back on Earth." Stephen nodded. "That Bureau 13 business, yeah -- did you get the..." at that moment, his link beeped. "Excuse me. Franklin, go." "Hobbs here. Delenn just came into Medlab One -- I think this is it, Stephen." "I'm in the Captain's office, and I'm out the door," Stephen said, suiting action to words. "I'll come with you," Lochley said. "Is there anything I can do?" Colin asked, hurrying to keep up. "Have you ever delivered a premature half-alien baby?" the doctor flung over his shoulder. "Well, no," Colin admitted. "Then just *stay out of the way*." He skidded to a halt. Lochley threw a sympathetic look back before disappearing around the corner. "And I suppose you *have*?" he muttered -- then he shook his head. That wasn't fair. There really *wasn't* anything he could do, except maybe monitor the patients' condition, and that's what the monitors were for. He sighed, trying not to feel left out, and headed back to his quarters. **************** Medlab One 09:52 EST Delenn came out of the Isolab with John and Dr. Hobbs, beaming beatifically. For a moment Lochley had the wild thought that it was over, but that was not only impossible but patently untrue. "Her water has broken, contractions are about ten minutes apart, and she's dilating nicely," reported Dr.Hobbs, which was more detail than Lochley really wanted to know. "And it looks like the endorphins are finally kicking in," added Dr. Franklin, noting Delenn's expression. "Endorphins, nothing!" Delenn replied with a fierce smile, "the terrible *waiting* is finally over -- at last there is something I can *do*!" Lochley could certainly sympathize with *that*, although the rest of it... "You're going to be doing plenty," Stephen assured his patient. "Have you got a monitor on her?" he asked Dr. Hobbs, who nodded. "Then the best thing you can do now is walk...it's probably not a good idea to go strolling around the station, but..." "Dr. Hobbs can take me around to talk to the other patients," Delenn suggested, and the two went off together. Stephen moved to the console to review Delenn's records, and Sheridan and Lochley drifted along, looking over his shoulder. Before long, the review had turned into an impromptu lecture on the differences between Minbari and Human physiology. These were more extensive than the superficial similarities might suggest -- to begin with, the "higher" animals of Minbar were not particularly close analogs of mammals. "As you may know," explained Dr. Franklin, "Minbari skin is a much more complex organ than ours, even though the appearance is similar, especially on the head and extremities. They secrete and absorb various substances at various times, depending on circumstances and physiological conditions. "Perhaps the most remarkable example of this occurs during gestation and early infancy. Instead of using a placenta for exchange of nutrients between the maternal and fetal bloodstreams, the fetus is bathed in a nutrient solution secreted by the mother's uterus, which it absorbs directly through the skin. In the sentient species, this absorptive capability lingers beyond birth, and for the first few months the infant is nourished by being cradled skin to skin by its parents, both of whom secrete a rich fluid which is triggered by their infant's pheromones." "Isn't that a little...messy?" Lochley asked with a grimace of distaste. "I daresay," replied Stephen, "and in primitive times it made the whole family unit very vulnerable. Historians believe that the clan system originated to protect new families from predators, just as Human marriage developed to protect and support females in the same...uh...situation." The President and his ex-wife exchanged a brief, wary look containing several unspoken paragraphs. Stephen went on, oblivious. "Delenn's transformation was astonishingly complete. I did give her some hormone treatments early on in the pregnancy to stimulate uterine development," Sheridan nodded, remembering, "but the basic structures are all there. I think the *most* amazing thing is that, with no physiological precursors at all -- no analogous structures to build on, so to speak -- she managed to develop fully functional mammary glands. They're small, as you can see," he said, indicating the diagram on the monitor, "but quite effective." A choking noise came from Sheridan's direction, and Stephen turned to find his friend a very interesting shade of pink, while Captain Lochley studied the ceiling and tried not to smirk. "Ah, yes, I'd noticed," Sheridan managed at last. "So, ah, she'll have no trouble, um..." "None at all," the doctor assured him. "Of course, though, with her Minbari instincts, she'll probably expect you to be more involved with the baby than we Human males generally are, even in this day and age." "Oh, boy." the Starkiller looked a bit daunted. "Don't worry," Stephen advised, "That's where the 'cuteness factor' comes in. I'm sure you'll do fine." At that fortuitous juncture, Delenn and Dr. Hobbs returned from their circuit of the ward. As Sheridan turned to his wife, her gaze suddenly went distant, and she sank into a brief meditative state, breathing deeply and smoothly. The others waited for the contraction to pass, and there was a general sigh of relief as it did. "I think that one was a little closer," Lilian observed. "By fourteen of your seconds," Delenn agreed. "I believe I have pestered your patients enough, Doctor. Perhaps it would be safe for John to escort me up and down the corridors outside Medlab?" "I'd be delighted," her husband said, offering his arm. The medical experts agreed, and Dr. Hobbs excused herself to get back to her regular patients. Captain Lochley took her leave also, deciding that she was useless here, while Lt. Corwin was overdue for relief in C&C. From the transport tube she could see John and Delenn walking away from her down the corridor, his greying head bent toward her dark one, his arm protectively curved around her thickened waist. Lochley allowed herself an affectionate smile and ordered the door to close. ---- To Be Continued ---- From: Jakhel@aol.com Subject: VS6 Episode 8 Pt 4 of 6 Date: Fri, 8 Oct 1999 19:36:51 EDT B A B Y L O N 5 T H E V I R T U A L S I X T H S E A S O N: "T H E P R I C E O F F R E E D O M" E P I S O D E 8 "A W A Y I N A M E D L A B" by ANNE E. CLEMENTS Part 3 of 6 -- Disclaimers and other notes in Part 1. Act 3 ----- Babylon 5 Anla'Shok Headquarters 04/10/2263 14:20 EST The syncopated *thwack* of denn'bok against denn'bok echoed in the lofty practice hall, as tall windows let in the reflected sunlight of the local day. Normally, half a dozen bouts could be accommodated at a time, but at the moment all eyes were fastened on a single contest. At the center of the wide space, a tall, slim Minbari woman swayed like the Windflower of her Clan's Great Art, while around her danced a veritable stormcloud of a lithe, pantherish Human. In the way of the Anla'shok, the spectators were restrained, only a low murmur of comment accompanying each near hit, each elegant feint or last-instant parry. Suddenly the Minbari went on the offensive, sweeping her pike around in a mighty blow. The Human woman managed to turn her sidestep into a backflip, dark braid flying as she arched up and over the whistling metal rod to land poised and in position to jab the end of her own denn'bok into the taller woman's side. Pulling the blow just in time, she laughed, but was echoed by the Minbari's sharp cry of triumph as the other's pike halted a hair's breadth from her temple. The combatants froze for a moment, then simultaneously backed apart and bowed as the appreciative murmur crested and broke. Val'na Tharvonn, trainer of Babylon 5's Rangers, came forward to officially declare the bout a draw. The two combatants thanked him and spoke briefly with their comrades before heading off to the dressing rooms. Behind them, they could hear the cheerful banter of the station contingent and the crew of White Star 6 as they returned to their own workouts. Later, over tea in the airy refectory on the top floor of the compound, Lanniel and Jamie Pratchett settled in for some serious chat. Lanniel had reported in on her arrival the day before, of course, but there had been no time then for extended discussion, so they had made the appointment for today's workout. "I had no idea we'd attract such an audience," Jamie admitted, squeezing a sliver of lemon into her tea bowl. "Obviously, neither your subordinates nor mine have enough to occupy them," commented the White Star Captain, her slight smile belying her deadpan tone. "We'll have to *see* about that," the leader of the station's Rangers agreed. "So what's new at home?" she asked eagerly. "Specifically, what's happening with those new ships we're supposed to be getting, one of these centuries?" "They're still in the pre-planning stage, from the little I've heard," replied Lanniel. "High Councillor Westcastle is negotiating with the Earth companies, with our shipbuilding guilds...and with the Warrior Caste. As you know, President Sheridan arranged for Earthforce to build the new ships based on Minbari designs and methods and what we can use of Vorlon technology, but the Warrior Caste has...concerns. They would prefer to devote our resources to adapting the new technologies to their *own* ships. I'm not sure what kind of compromise will eventually be reached." As she spoke, the Minbari woman's voice was carefully neutral, with only a slight thickening of her rolling mountain accent to betray her discomfort to one who knew her well. Jamie guessed that the small but influential Storm Dancer clan -- led by Lanniel's father, D'hal Takier -- was involved in the debate over the new ships. She nodded thoughtfully. "Well, if anyone can find a workable compromise, it's Westcastle. He's got a knack for negotiation -- almost as good as Entil'zha Sinclair." Lanniel smiled slightly. "I trust so. And how do you find your new... station?" They were speaking English, as much for Lanniel's delight in the language as for any other reason, and Jamie had no hesitation in picking up her cue. "I look around me, and there it is!" she responded, and both Rangers spared a look out the tall window at the expanse of greenery and scattered buildings that spread out before them, arching high overhead behind the silver spindle of the core shuttle. "Seriously, though," she went on, "it's been quite an adjustment. Sha'vei Shival has been a great help, of course, in his...unique way." The two exchanged a wry look. Shival, like Lanniel, was one of the thirty- five Rangers who had stood by Sinclair when he had first taken command of the Anla'Shok. All of them had been drafted into training the first recruits -- including Humans like Jamie Pratchett and William Cole -- but Shival had shown a distinct flair for devising training exercises that shattered preconceptions and altered perspectives. Perhaps the most infamous was what had come to be known as the Midnight Hike to Gajn'Darahl, in which the new trainees were rousted out in the middle of the frosty Minbari night and chivvied up the long, treacherous path to the top of the great waterfall, to stand shivering under the stars until the glory of who they were, where they were, and what they were doing struck them still and silent with awe. "Yes," said Lanniel, "I spoke with him briefly when we picked up the Entil'zha -- he said he would be returning here within the month to 'check up on you'." Jamie rolled her eyes. "He also mentioned something about a 'successful first mission'...?" Jamie laughed shortly. "Oh, yeah, that. No sooner had I set foot in this place when he sent me off again..." her expression sobered. "Has Sheylaht spoken to you of this?" "Sheylaht?" the taller woman's wide brow furrowed. "I have not spoken with her for almost a year, since she was posted as Captain to White Star 103. Of course, I have been out on the Rim for most of that time..." "Then you haven't heard." Jamie sighed, trying to find a way to break the news to Lanniel, who had shepherded (and bullied) both of them through training -- was it only four years ago? "Sheylaht...took it upon herself to follow a lead to a Drakh base on Darok VII." "Dangerous, but certainly not out of character," commented Lanniel, taking a sip of her tea. "More than dangerous, I'm afraid. She was on assignment at the time, bringing the new Gaim ambassador to ISA headquarters on Minbar." The Minbari woman carefully replaced her bowl and folded her hands. "Imprudent," she amended. "And I take it she did not bother to *inform* anyone of this change in flight plan?" "Nope. So Shival sent me out to find her. I was lucky enough to run across Alain Vedrou with White Star 61, because as it turned out, the base was built on top of a much older installation -- some kind of massive Shadow defense unit that proceeded to tear the whole place apart. The three of us were barely able to take it out and retrieve Sheylaht's ground crew. What worries *me*, though, is the possibility that there may be more of those things down there." "Not to mention what *other* Shadow weapons may have been left behind, waiting for the Drakh or their allies to find them," observed Lanniel. "And not just Drakh allies," said Jamie. "Even though the ISA has restricted exploration in Vorlon and Shadow space, I don't doubt some of our 'allies' have ships out there right now, poking around for whatever they can find. There've been some unsettling rumors from Drazi space in the last few weeks...not to mention the murder of one of Ambassador Vizhak's aides." "Do you think this is more than just reaction to the Kri Maru?" Lanniel asked, referring to the growing influence of the pacifist sect of the complicated Drazi religion -- and its inevitable backlash. "It could just be that," Jamie admitted. "I have some people looking into it. We should know more soon." "Have you spoken to the Entil'zha or the High Councillor about this?" Jamie shook her head. "The Entil'zha is a little busy right now. Shival was planning on mentioning it to Westcastle while he was there, but I haven't heard anything yet." She sighed. "I'll tell you, I'll be REAL glad when those new ships start coming online. With what we've got left after the wars, we're stretched *way* too thin in the reconnaissance department, even with the freelancers Halloran's been able to pull in." "And *I'll* be glad when I can get back out there to help you, instead of going back and forth like a glorified shuttle pilot!" "Well, it IS a great honour to be the shuttle pilot on *this* trip," Jamie pointed out. "To be here for the birth of Delenn's child -- a true bridge between our two peoples..." Lanniel bowed slightly in acknowledgement, but reservations lingered in her eyes and at the corners of her mouth. "I'm afraid not *all* of our people see it that way." Jamie thought again of Lanniel's family, who had so vehemently protested her joining -- and remaining with -- the Anla'Shok, even after it was 'polluted' by the presence of aliens. "Did you have a chance to talk to...anyone while you were home?" She asked quietly. There was a younger brother who still kept some contact, as she recalled. "No," Lanniel said, staring blankly out the window. Jamie nodded. "So -- how's your new exec working out?" she asked, changing the subject. ***** Captain's Quarters 18:35 EST "C&C online." "Lochley here. Any word on Delenn?" "No, ma'am. Nothing yet." Lochley smiled to herself at the watch officer's context-sensitive mode of address -- if she'd asked about the status of the Starfury squadrons, he'd have said 'no, *sir*'. "Keep me posted, Lieutenant. Lochley out." She sighed, and for the fiftieth time decided *against* wandering over Medlab to get in everyone's way. She picked up her book again, but had barely begun to focus on it when an all-too-familiar voice cut in. "And what are *you* doing here?" Draal asked chidingly. Lochley bit her tongue, refusing to give in to the impulse to snap the Guardian's question back at him. The portly hologram had appeared, without warning as usual, at the foot of the bed. He stood there, hands folded into his wide sleeves, obviously not about to leave any time soon. "I am reading," she answered with forced politeness. "I'm off duty, I've eaten dinner, I've worked out, and now I'm in my quarters, reading. Where *else* would I be?" she asked, knowing the likely answer. "With Delenn and her mate, of course." Lochley closed her eyes and sighed. "I know, but I'd only be in the way . The best thing I can do now is...wait, like everybody else." "Ah, that is where you are *wrong*, Elizabeth," Draal replied, coming around to sit on the bed by her knees. "Your place -- " he pointed at her, "is with them. *You* are the Protector. It is Tradition." His rich, deep voice emphasized the capital letters in the words. Lochley was skeptical. "*What* tradition? Besides, in case you hadn't noticed, nobody involved is actually Minbari." "Physically, perhaps, but in spirit Delenn will always be one of us. Besides, this child is the bridge between our two peoples -- a New Thing in the Universe. And the birth of a new thing should always be accompanied by the best of the old -- preferably interpreted in a new way. What better way than by having the infant's Protector be a Human?" "Protector?" Lochley repeated, "What's that, like a godmother? "In a way, but much more so. You see, among our people, both parents are involved with caring for the infant for the first few months after birth..." "Yes, I know, Dr. Franklin gave us a lecture on it this morning. He said something about that being the origin of the Clan system..." "In recent times, yes -- 'recent' being measured in tens of thousands of years, of course. But in the old days, before the dawn of written histories, when we were evolving, struggling up from the dim mists of prehistory toward the light of civilization...." Lochley gave him a look, and he cleared his throat ostentatiously and started over. "At any rate, the original Minbari family unit was a *triad* of adults -- the mating pair and a third, to protect and support them in their time of vulnerability. To provide food, to ward off predators, and of course, eventually, other Minbari. Indeed, I suspect that *that* ancient, inbred pattern may be the true source of our fascination with the number three. Male, female, Protector; Worker, Religious, Warrior -- it all fits together, you see." "Yes, well, that's all very interesting, but it was a long time ago, and I fail to see how it's relevant to anything here and now." "Ah, but the instinct runs deep, and old things have power, especially in times of change. For millions of years our species survived this way, and the ...what is the English word -- paradigm? Archetype? A little bit of both, I think -- remains strong in our subconscious, lingering in rituals passed down from the ancient days. "For that is where many of our rituals began, you know -- as we became intelligent, and aware, instinct became passion and the interplay of consciousness and emotion produced....complications in originally 'hardcoded' relationships. "Quite often the Protector was the female's brother, or another close to her from childhood, while the male was a relative stranger, passing through from another territory. This produced strong currents of emotion in all concerned, which had to be channeled, directed into a productive, rather than a destructive, configuration..." Draal's fingers were interweaving descriptively as he spoke. Somewhat unsettled by these rather alien concepts, Lochley swung off the bed and moved to the kitchenette to pour a glass of water. "All right, so you had rituals so the two males didn't kill each other over the female. That makes sense, we have similar types of things on our world..." "Oh, not always two males and a female! Quite often it was the other way around -- since our males *do* share in caring for infants, the gender roles are not so divided as with Humans, as you may have noticed. Which is why, since there is now no suitable candidate on Delenn's side of the family, as it were, the role of Protector falls to *you*." "ME?!?" Lochley exclaimed, totally blindsided. "You mean....because I was..." Draal nodded. "It was also common," he explained, "for a former mate to stand Protector in a subsequent mating." Lochley sputtered for a moment. "But I can't...I mean, I don't..." inspiration struck. "Wait a minute, if the female's brother could be Protector, what about the male's sister? John's sister Liz would be the obvious person -- much better than *me*! I'm sure he has her comm number, she could be here in a matter of days..." Draal shook his head, smiling. "She has her own path..." he stopped, and looked at the Captain curiously. "'Liz', did you say? She is called by the same nickname as you? Was that not somewhat...confusing?" Lochley laughed. "We weren't all together long enough for it to become a problem -- I don't think she really approved of me, somehow. But she is very fond of John, and from what I hear, a devoted wife and mother. Wouldn't she be a better choice?" "As I started to say," the Guardian continued, "she has her own path. Besides, this child will need a Protector who can defend him from the Dark things of this world -- it is indeed a shame that...but anyway. Is the idea so distasteful to you, then?" Lochley shook her head. "Not distasteful, it just seems...inappropriate. I was *married* to the guy, after all, and since I came here, well, we've both made an effort to keep a...a suitable distance." "Is so much effort really necessary?" Draal asked. "Is there anything... complicated lingering?" Lochley looked shocked -- but not *too* shocked. "Good Lord, no!" She laughed again -- much the same laugh as before: short, a little self- deprecating, mostly just acknowledging the irony of the Universe. "In fact," she mused, "the only thing remotely like that in *my* life lately is...." as if suddenly realizing where her thoughts had led her, she stopped abruptly. "Ah, never mind! "The thing with John and me," she went on, focusing on the issue at hand , "Even when we were in love, it wasn't so much that I wanted to be his *wife*, as that I just wanted to BE with him, to be a part of his life. So, being the forthright, 'go-get-'em' kind of people we both are, we went right out and got married." "Logical, I suppose," commented Draal. "Logical, maybe, but not real *bright*," replied Elizabeth scathingly. "It didn't take long before I realized what a mistake it was -- it took him a little longer, but not much. We went to visit his folks right afterward -- sort of a combination honeymoon and apology for not having a 'real' wedding and inviting them. That may have been one of the things Liz didn't like, come to think of it. But anyway, David and Dorothy...you haven't met them yet, have you?" "Ah, no. Not...as such." "They were really sweet, and we all took to each other right away -- except me and Liz, like I said -- but something about the whole situation just...got under my skin, somehow. The way they kept...I don't know how to explain it -- I don't even know if your people have anything like this, but it was like I was all of a sudden *responsible* for John, like he was my kid or something, and on the other hand, I was his *property*...it wasn't blatant, and certainly nothing I hadn't seen before -- but that was always 'other people'. This was the first time I'd actually been *in* that position and....quite frankly, I HATED it! "It gnawed at me, and by the time we left I was watching him like a hawk, and snapping at him whenever he did something that struck me as 'domineering'. As you can imagine, that happened rather frequently. By the time we got home, he was starting to have second thoughts too, and from there, things went straight to hell. Literally." "Hmm. I see," said the Minbari thoughtfully. "Not to sound smug, but I believe that is why we Minbari have so many elaborate rituals for our pairings, to ensure that such things do not happen. "Much," he added judiciously. "So, is your...regard for him entirely gone, then?" She looked up, startled. "Of course not -- quite the contrary! Oh, it took me a long time to get over loving him -- that deep, twisting ache that wails at you in the middle of the night -- but I did it. What's more, I managed to do it without talking myself into hating him -- at least, once we actually split up. During the, ah, process, you understand, it was rather.... well, anyway. Back when we were both in Earthforce, we'd run into each other occasionally. We had lunch a couple of times when he was married to Anna -- I was glad for him then, he seemed truly happy. And since I came here..." she shook her head. "It's ironic, really, last year I actually *had* what I wanted at the very beginning: working with him, being a part of his life. Yet it was completely different from anything I could have imagined at the time. It felt...right, somehow, as if that was the kind of relationship we were *meant* to have. And, frankly, we seem even more comfortable with each other now that he's not based here. I think there's some kind of...territorial imperative involved, you know?" Draal smiled. "I believe I do understand! And, quite frankly, everything you've said just makes it clearer that you *are* the correct person to stand Protector to his son, and Delenn's. Unless...unless there is a problem with *her*?" Lochley blinked. "A problem? I don't know what you mean." Draal cleared his throat again. "The...Protector relationship is a close one with both partners." Her eyebrows rose. "Not *that* close...that is... well, at any rate, it requires a high level of trust, and mutual empathy. I've known Delenn for many years -- she can be...how shall I put it....she is very driven, very...'goal-oriented', as you people say, and occasionally that makes her seem a little distant, or forbidding..." "Gee, now why does *that* sound familiar?" asked Lochley wryly. "Actually, I've always rather envied the way she seems to be able to...to reach out to people, to touch their hearts, even if it's someone she's just met, or when addressing a crowd -- that...charisma, I guess you'd call it, that they both have. In fact, I guess I'd have to admit that in some ways I envy her a lot -- but only in *some* ways," she hastened to add. "I think that, while we were both here, we established quite a good working relationship, although I admit I've always been a little hesitant to take it to any kind of...personal level." "Because of your association with the President?" "Partly, I suppose. I didn't want her to get the wrong impression, and keeping things purely professional on all sides seemed like the best way to do that -- Lord knows, I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of the woman who broke the Grey Council, sent Earthforce packing, and routed the Drakh!" "Not to mention....well, let's *not* mention that," said Draal. "I quite understand your concern. But aside from all of that, do you *like* her? Do you...*care* for her, at all?" He looked at the Captain anxiously, almost like a parent seeking approval for a favored child. Lochley took a deep breath, studying the carpet intently. "That's..." she shook her head. "That's a more difficult question than you know. I'm a little...slow to care about people, especially...well, especially other... female people." "Because of your friend Zoe," Draal supplied, nodding solemnly. She looked up at him in dismay. "How did you..." "The Great Machine, my dear," the Guardian said gently. "It can see many things, far off or near at hand -- or, sometimes, both." "The...the Day of the Dead, you mean." "It was a fascinating phenomenon," Draal admitted, "well worth recording." "I...see," said Lochley, thankful that at least the Machine hadn't been spying on Earth -- and on her -- way back when. "Well, yes," she went on, pulling herself together, "that's probably a big part of it. And I suppose you're going to say I should get past that. And I suppose you're right." She cocked her head, setting her jaw. "Well, I can't make any promises, but I'll certainly....consider what you've said, Draal..." "You had best consider quickly," the Minbari pointed out. Lochley nodded. "I realize that. If I do decide to...go through with this Protector business, what exactly would be involved? Not that I'm saying I *will*, mind you, just...if I did. Is there some sort of...ritual to it?" "But of course! We are Minbari, after all! But this one is relatively simple -- not only is it exceedingly old, but it was quite often performed under....hasty circumstances, as you might imagine. You simply declare, 'F'ta anloth sha'torr ne eklival', and once acknowledged, it is done." "F'ta anloth sha...what?" They went over it a few times, until Elizabeth had it down. "And then I will be...responsible for the baby's safety?" "For all three of them," Draal reminded her, "until the baby's first steps, technically -- although in practice the relationship was usually close lifelong. Well, as I said, there is not much time left -- I will leave you to consider, now. Listen to your heart, Elizabeth." "Thanks, I...whatever happens, I want you to know I appreciate...well..." Lochley faltered, not quite sure what she was trying to say, but knowing that it was important. "I understand. Farewell, for now." The hologram shimmered and faded, leaving a very thoughtful woman behind. **************** Medlab One 19:02 EST Zack handed John Sheridan a cup of coffee. It was an insulated plastic number, with "IGOT! (Coffee and Tea)" splashed across a stylized outline of the station, and had arrived, with its relatives, on a small cart propelled by the Security Chief. Sheridan took a sip. "This is *good*!" he exclaimed, as the rich scent of hot coffee seeped into the air. A few beds away, a Llort sneezed. "Is it imported?" "Local," Zack corrected. "I've got an 'in' with the suppliers." Sheridan's eyebrows lifted. "Things *have* changed around here," he commented. He took another sip. "Kinda reminds me of..." "Johnny!" "Coming, Mother!" he hurried back to the Isolab, cup in hand. As Zack stepped up to watch anxiously through the clear wall, a cloaked figure slipped in behind him, circling around to the far side of the Isolab behind some rarely-used heavy equipment. There, unnoticed by anyone who cared, it lingered. Inside, the figure propped at an angle on the converted exam bed bore little resemblance to the composed woman walking the halls that morning. Sweat plastered dark strands of hair to her exhausted face, and her hands gripped like claws as wave after wave of pain swept over her. Her dilated eyes stared blankly as she focused all her attention within, maintaining the rhythm of her breath and concentrating on the mechanics of childbirth. "Hang in there, m'dear, you're doing fine," David Sheridan advised his daughter-in-law. His wife smiled up at him, undoubtedly remembering similar exhortations long ago. On the other side of the bed, one of the results of those labors hovered, staring fixedly at the woman he loved, willing his strength into her. Stephen Franklin sipped at the cup John had just handed him. "Mm. Tastes like that stuff Susan used to make." Dr. Hobbs threw him a quizzical look as she brushed past on her way to recheck the monitors. "Ten point two centimeters," she read off. "Any time now." But moment led into moment, and nothing more happened. The contractions continued to come, but there was no progress. The doctors began exchanging worried looks. Outside the Isolab, Zack poured himself another cup of coffee from the carafe, wondering whether he should go on in there, not wanting to be in the way, yet not daring to leave. He turned, sensing movement behind him. "Captain," he said. "I thought you were off duty." "I was -- I mean I am," she replied absently. She'd put her uniform back on, and stood staring into the Isolab in an unconscious "at-ease" stance, the very picture of military correctness. "Coffee?" asked Zack. Just then, an alarm went off inside, and both doctors and the two techs sprang into action. Lochley thumbed the intercom. "What's going on?" Stephen looked up. "Her contractions have stopped, but the baby is already far down the birth canal. If we don't get her started again, we may lose him. We may lose *both* of them," he added grimly. Lochley's chin came up, and before Zack could protest, she headed for the airlock. Moments later, she brushed past David and Dorothy Sheridan to stand at the head of the birthing couch, looking like a woman determined to dive into deep water. Delenn's eyes were closed, and the hand not grasped in her husband's rested on her belly, as if urging the baby onward. Aside from that, all strength seemed to have left her. "10cc's pitocin solution -- not that one, the one marked for Delenn," snapped Stephen. "I'm losing the pulse," advised Lilian. "Liz..." John looked up, a wordless pleading in his eyes. "Delenn," said Lochley, then again, "*Delenn*!" The Minbari woman's eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus on the face above her. Elizabeth gingerly laid a hand on top of Delenn's, splayed across her distended abomen. "F'ta anloth sha'torr ne eklival," she said clearly. "What?!?" gasped Delenn, and Lochley repeated the words. Delenn frowned, her concentration broken as she tried to place the odd, antiquated phrase -- then her eyes widened as she identified it. "Are you *sure*?" she asked. Gazing only into the Minbari woman's eyes, without a flicker of a glance at the confused man across from her, Lochley nodded firmly. "Lath....vei!" Delenn's last word rose to a veritable war-cry as a deep wave started about the middle of her back and swept downward. "That's it -- PUSH!!" cried Stephen, who had appeared in the vicinity of her feet. Gripping her husband with one hand and her Protector with the other, Delenn PUSHED. "It's coming..." "I've lost the pulse..." "I've got the head -- get me an oxygen mask and 1cc of valdrin! Delenn, PUSH!" "Push, Delenn!" urged Lochley. "Come on, one more good one!" echoed Sheridan, catching his wife's desperate gaze with his own. With another ferocious cry, Delenn pushed one more time... "Theeeeerre we go," said Stephen, grasping the tiny, slimy body. "Do you have a heartbeat?" asked Lilian urgently. Stephen felt carefully -- "Yes, and I think..." he pressed gently on the minute rib cage...there was a small sputter, a cough, and a piercing cry of ultimate outrage. Grinning with relief, he handed the suddenly squirmy baby to Lilian to be checked over, cleaned, and wrapped. From there the squawling bundle was passed up to Sheridan, who in turn passed him -- almost reluctantly -- to rest in his mother's arms. Zack had cycled through to join the others, sweeping the grandparents into a fierce hug and grinning widely at his rather dazed-looking Captain. He peered over at the baby, frowning as if looking for something. "What?" asked Lilian, wondering if she'd missed something in her scan of the infant. "Oh, nothing," Zack replied quickly. "Just wondering if..." he swirled a finger around his head, "you know..." "It's too early to tell, " put in Stephen, catching his drift. "The bone crest grows in later, like kneecaps." "Oh, yeah, right," Zack acknowledged. "KNEEcaps?!?" said Lochley, appalled. Meanwhile, the baby had stopped crying and was gazing with rapt, milky-blue eyes at the two incredulously smiling faces that hovered, godlike, above him . Delenn reached up to tap a tiny nose with a delicate forefinger. "Hello, David," she said softly. **************** Outside, in the shadows, the watcher stood paralyzed, any wistful pleasure he might have taken in this moment overwhelmed by sudden rage. He wasn't sure exactly what Captain Lochley was doing there, or what she was saying to Delenn, but something about the tableau struck a deep, resonating chord in the back of his brain, and without knowing how he knew, he KNEW what had happened. Again. Again, he had been pushed aside. Again, he had been robbed of the place that he knew, to the breadth and depth of his soul, was rightfully his. And again it was a puny, ignorant *Human* who did this! Some vestige of control allowed him to escape that place unremarked, and he stalked the corridors of the great station like some dark winged beast with fiery eyes, swathed in a cloud of passion and anger. All the long years of study and meditation, all the bright joy, the open-hearted acceptance of the Other that had made his time here such a delight -- all were drowned in pain, as his response to Lochley's transgression opened the floodgates of a deeper, older agony long denied. He remembered, now, the first time he had felt this way. Then, his control had been stronger. He had not been wracked by doubt and guilt, nor weakened by wounds and long fasting. He had been secure at least in the knowledge of *her* esteem, and the good will of those around him. Then he had been able to bury his pain -- had told himself that it was unworthy and inconsequential, and so left untouched and unhealed a seed of hatred that had bloomed, as such things always did, at the worst possible moment. He remembered, now, the ritual, handed down from the oldest of days, only half-understood, but reverenced for its beauty and its place in the Great Cycle of Minbari life. How he had accepted the honor unquestioning, and had gathered those among the diplomatic staff and other resident Minbari whom *she* had come to consider friends. How he had waited, and listened -- listened to every sound but the frenzied beating of his own heart, that urged him to fly to her, to rend and slay this foul alien who dared touch her perfection. Bound by reason, and love, and the presence of those he had gathered at her behest and at the command of Tradition, he had waited, silent and outwardly calm. And afterward, the last part of the ritual -- the part the Human probably did not even realize *was* part of the ritual, although the old records were strangely insistent upon it -- he remembered that, too. Alone in the transport tube with this alien -- this *man* he had come to respect, to like, and even, through her, to love, and who was so much closer to death at that moment than either of them realized -- in his arrogance he had discarded the ancient words of ritual and decided to, as the Humans said, "play it by ear". Using all he had learned of these people, of their ways, their hearts, and their humor, attempting to master his conflicting emotions with sheer cleverness, he had reached for the words that he hoped might forge the necessary link; might somehow make this precarious three-way relationship *work* without the ultimate destruction of one of them. He had spoken -- and been answered not with words, but with a silent glare of outrage and rejection. It was the kind of blow that strikes so quickly, yet so deeply and profoundly that the one struck *cannot* acknowledge or comprehend it, even as he falls, while the one who deals it thinks of it as no more than a tossed-off word or gesture, soon forgotten in the more "important" concerns of daily life. Was it *that* wound, so easily overlooked, so easily sublimated by the arguments of reason and friendship, that had festered and eventually triggered the impulse that had shattered his life? And now, with this *second* blow to a heart already wounded... The hatch before his unseeing eyes opened on an exquisite Centauri face. "Marrain? Are you all right? What's *happened?!?*" Lyndisty's eyes filled with concern, bringing him slowly back from the haunted reaches of his soul. He gazed at her solemnly, once more searching for a way to express what could never be contained in mere words... "Woo hoo," said Lennier. ---- To Be Continued ---- --part1_0.ac6825f3.252fda13_boundary-- From: Jakhel@aol.com Subject: VS6 Episode 8 Pt 5 of 6 Resend Date: Wed, 13 Oct 1999 22:29:26 EDT This doesn't seem to have gotten through, so I'm trying it again... B A B Y L O N 5 T H E V I R T U A L S I X T H S E A S O N: "T H E P R I C E O F F R E E D O M" E P I S O D E 8 "A W A Y I N A M E D L A B" by ANNE E. CLEMENTS Part 5 of 6 -- Disclaimers and other notes in Part 1. Act 4 ----- Medlab One 04/10/2263 20:32 EST "So what was *that* all about?" John Sheridan asked his ex-wife over a fresh cup of coffee. "Yes," echoed the Ambassador, his father. "Not that you weren't welcome, m'dear, but to come bargin' in like that at the last moment was a little... surprising." "I'm sure she had a good reason," said Dorothy Sheridan, looking inquisitively at Captain Lochley. "I...I think so," she replied. Now that it was all over, she felt a little foolish -- but the arguments that had won her over still held true. It was just a matter of explaining them... "A...friend of ours stopped by," she began, with a significant glance at John, "and explained about the ancient Minbari tradition of a Protector for a new baby and its parents. He argued -- convincingly, in the end -- that it was important that, as he put it," she deepened her voice, squared her shoulders and declaimed, "'the birth of a New Thing in the Universe be accompanied by the best of the old, interpreted in a new way'. He claimed that I was the best person for the job -- the *only* person for the job, apparently. So, after a whole lot of soul-searching, I...decided to go for it. I'm sorry there wasn't time to warn you," she added, but John shook his head. "That's all right, that kind of thing seems to be par for the course around here. I think I know who you're talking about," he added with a quick grin, "and I'd be the last person to disregard *his* advice. I'm not sure what all is involved, but," he nodded sharply, "I appreciate it. Maybe later we can do some research and work out the details -- Delenn seemed to recognize the formula, anyway." "Um," put in Zack, "are we talking about who I *think* we're talking about?" "I have no idea what *any* of you are talking about," commented the elder Sheridan. John and Elizabeth looked at each other, and the thought occurred to both of them at the same moment. A fiendish grin lit the President's face, and the Captain cleared her throat and turned away, smiling. "An...ally of ours that I'm sure you'll meet sooner or later," said John, and Lochley added an "Oh, yeah!" under her breath. Zack looked from them to the elderly, yet feisty Ambassador, and a slow grin stole over his face as well. "So, does anyone else need a refill?" he asked brightly, indicating the twin carafes of coffee and hot water standing on a tray atop the nearby cart. "More tea, please," replied the President's mother. "Did you say this was grown *locally*?" Zack and the Captain explained how two young girls had taken over the coffee and tea plants accumulated by Susan Ivanova and Michael Garibaldi, and, once discovered and 'legitimized', had built a small yet thriving business on the station. On hearing that Delenn was actually having her baby here and now, Jaida and Selene had insisted on providing refreshments for the anxious friends and relatives, free of charge. President Sheridan, in turn, insisted on seeing that the girls were paid full price. "And also," he added, "I think I'll mention to Ambassador Rathenn that their products should be used for any official ISA functions on station." "Too late for that, Mr. President," said Lochley. "He's already been introduced to their wares, courtesy of Ambassador Sherann, and gave the order himself." On that note, Ambassador Sheridan and his wife took their leave, followed by Zack, who had his own duties to get back to. John took an extra cup of tea back into the Isolab, where Dr. Franklin and the techs were finishing up with Delenn and the baby. The Captain was about to leave also when Dr. Hobbs called her over to the main console. "I just wanted to ask, if you don't mind -- what exactly happened in there?" Now this was getting silly, Lochley thought. "Well, I'm not sure how you missed it, since you were there, but Delenn just had a baby!" Lilian ducked her head with a small smile. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry, but it *was* rather unusual." Lochley sighed. The doctor was right, of course, and was entitled to an explanation -- and somehow she doubted that this was the *last* time she'd have to give some version of this spiel. Lilian nodded thoughtfully as Elizabeth explained -- again -- how Draal had talked her into taking on the role of the baby's Protector. Lilian had been in charge of the medical facilities for the refugee center set up on Epsilon 3 during the Shadow War, so she was well acquainted with the Guardian of the Great Machine, as well as his rather peculiar assistants. "Well, in that case I suppose congratulations are in order for you as well," she commented. "So how does it feel to be a...sort of godmother?" "I'm not really sure yet," Lochley admitted. "I mean, it's not as if I'd ever planned on having kids of my own even when...well, when I was younger." Lilian looked at her curiously, and she felt pressed to explain further -- this was certainly turning out to be a day for delving deeply into one's inner motivations, she thought with a flicker of annoyance. But then again, when better? "My brother and sister are eight and nine years younger than me," she explained. "Our mother was...not well for several years after they were born, so I ended up pretty much raising them -- I think I worked any 'maternal instinct' out of my system then!" Lilian smiled, as if at some private joke, but Liz went on, oblivious. "And then...well, things got bad for a while, and then I was in boarding school and away at the Academy, and we kind of lost touch. I've never even seen my niece and nephews and frankly, I suspect their parents prefer it that way. At any rate," she went on, drawing a deep breath, "young David in there may be the closest thing I ever have to a child of my own, and it's a rather...daunting feeling, somehow." She looked into the Isolab, where John and Delenn were conferring earnestly with Dr. Franklin, the baby held close against his mother's side. "Daunting as it may be, I think this will be a good thing," observed Lilian. "Delenn, in particular, will need all the support she can get, in the days ahead." "*Delenn*?" Lochley looked at the doctor, surprised. "If anyone could handle a situation like this -- being head of the Rangers, Vice-President of the Interstellar Alliance, wife to John Sheridan, *and* mother of the first hybrid Human-alien child in Earth's history, I would think it would be... *superwoman* over there," she concluded, the bitterness in her voice surprising even her. "'Superwoman'? Is that what you think?" asked Lilian, wonder and pity in her soft, dark eyes. "Let me tell you something about Delenn," she went on, perching comfortably on the console as Lochley eyed her warily. "I was posted here in 2258, some months before Delenn's...metamorphosis. I had not had much contact with Minbari before that, and I had little with the Ambassador at that time. However, in the first weeks and months following her change, she was often in Medlab. Dr. Franklin was monitoring her closely, and also there were some...occasionally unpleasant though fortunately temporary side-effects. When Dr. Franklin was otherwise occupied, I sometimes treated her, and we became friends, after a fashion. Even later, when Commander Ivanova began helping her with the more subtle nuances of life as a Human woman, there were times she would come to me for a...slightly different perspective. "It was hard for her -- very hard -- to learn new ways, yet balance them with the precepts she had lived by all her life. I remember one time she said to me, 'Lilian, I do not understand this Human concept of "femininity". At first glance it seems akin to our Minbari ethic of service -- putting the Other before one's own needs and desires -- and yet there are also the elements of ...display, and manipulation of the Other for one's own ends...I do not know how to reconcile these things!'" "So," the doctor continued, "I explained, as best I could -- pointed her to historical studies, from Shelley and Greer on though Mishima and Jalal, plus some vids that I thought might help her to understand -- and with her usual zeal for learning and using the lessons learned..." "Oh, so it was all *your* fault!" exclaimed Lochley in mock horror, and she joined the doctor in a most unprofessional bout of laughter. "Believe me, the *implementation* of those lessons was entirely her own!" Lilian managed finally. Lochley declared this a feeble excuse, but allowed as how the story *did* shed a more sympathetic light on the alien woman's travails, which led to a discussion of exactly *which* vids Delenn might have used for inspiration, which in turn sent them back into gales of laughter. This was eventually interrupted by Dr. Franklin, who needed Lilian to help him pull together the log records for the case. Lochley bid them both farewell and headed for the door again, shaking her head and laughing softly. Once again, though, she was waylaid before she could escape -- this time by Director Halloran. Stifling a gurgle of hilarity at the thought of the sleek, no-nonsense blonde in a "Gone With the Wind"-style crinoline, Lochley listened patiently to Tessa's thumbnail update on current operations. Meanwhile, Stephen sat at the console, ostensibly recording notes. He was finding it hard to concentrate, however, and he suspected his lack of concentration had something to do with the blonde in the doorway. Dinner last night had *not* gone well, to put it mildly, and he was uncomfortably aware of the fact that it was mostly his fault. Not entirely, of course, but...well, mostly. And it was all because of that damned Psi Cop -- what the hell was that guy up to, anyway? Stephen was deeply suspicious. Was Ferris using more than his undeniable good looks on Tessa -- *and* on the Captain? Was this some sort of devious Psi Corps trick, some plot to destabilize the station's command staff, soften them up for a takeover? Should he warn Zack? No, not until he was sure -- the Security Chief was already suspicious of the telepath, and he'd hate to make that worse if he was wrong. But from what he'd seen so far...he scrutinized Tessa and the Captain discreetly, catching only snatches of conversation as they stood talking on the other side of the entrance to the busy clinic. Weren't they being just a little bit *too* polite? Was the demon of jealousy already coming between them, distracting them from their work, weakening the critical bonds between the two highly placed women? Just then the Captain nodded toward the Isolab, and both women cracked up. Tessa clapped Lochley on the shoulder, assuring her that she'd do just fine as a Protector. The auburn-haired woman smiled shyly in return, and *finally* made her escape. Shaking her head in amusement, Tessa strode over to the Isolab window, ostentatiously ignoring Franklin's presence. She caught Sheridan's eye and waved, then gave Delenn a thumbs up as the proud mother smiled at her. Turning, she paused for a moment as her gaze met Stephen's, then set her jaw and headed for the door. "Tessa." She stopped, her back to the doctor. One wrong word, and she'd be out that door and out of his life. "I'm sorry." She turned around -- wary, but willing to give him another chance. "About last night," he clarified, rising and going to her. The doctors and techs in the area suddenly found tasks that required them to be in a different part of the facility. "I'm afraid I kind of...made a mess of things, and I was hoping you'd give me a chance to apologize." She stood before him like an avenging Valkyrie, her eyes blazing. "I should think you *should* apologize -- the things you said about Colin were *completely* uncalled-for." "I know, I know, and I said I was sorry," admitted Stephen, but he couldn't resist a protest -- "But the guy *is* a Psi Cop!" "Yes, he's a Psi Cop," retorted Tessa. "And he's also a...a friend. You don't know -- " she stopped. "I take that back. You DO know, or you should! You know what this place is like, how it...changes people, brings them into focus. I would have thought you'd be the *last* person to take that kind of... closed-minded attitude." Still in heavy grovelling mode but starting to get a little tired of it, Stephen conceded, "You're right, and I suppose it wouldn't have gotten to me except that you two seemed so...so *close*." Her head came up sharply. "I know! I know I don't have any claim on you, but I do *care* about you, and I don't want to see you get yourself hurt, okay?" "I'm quite capable of..." "Taking care of yourself, yes I know, and I respect that. Really, I do. I just...worry. I'm a doctor. That's what I *do*." Tessa put her hands on her hips and her head to one side, regarding him through narrowed eyes. "That's not *all* you do," she said at last. "Well, no, it's not," he admitted. "And it's not all you do *well*, either," she pointed out. "I, ah, wouldn't know about *that*," he said -- then the light bulb went on. "Say," he said hesitantly, "are you, um, busy later tonight?" She folded her arms, a slight curve appearing at the corner of her mouth. "I am *now*." **************** Brown Sector 22:24 EST Lyndisty had almost finished cleaning up for the night. Lennier had left a few minutes earlier, after she had told him everything her Companion knew about the ancient Minbari traditions, from before the days of the Clans. She had also revealed how she knew these things, and he in turn had told her *his* story. "Marrain", indeed! Why, if anyone tried to take her Vir from her, she'd do a lot worse, and not shilly-shally around until the last minute, either! But now it *was* too late to do anything drastic -- it would only be stupid and self-destructive, especially given what they both now knew about the nature and strength of these relationships. Many of the stories the Vendrizi knew involved similar "misunderstandings" -- without the alien element, of course. They made for powerful tales of passion, betrayal, and revenge -- but not the kind of thing the "new" Lyndisty wanted to be involved with, even peripherally. And she was concerned -- Lennier had seemed so strange, so intense and yet inscrutable, as he relentlessly winkled every last scrap of information out of the Vendrizi. She wasn't sure what he would do with his new knowledge -- he had said he was going to slip into the Minbari diplomatic complex to do some more research and then meditate, but could she believe him? Perhaps she should break her promise and tell Vir about this -- but her Companion counseled patience, and she reluctantly agreed. Just then there was a bleep at the door -- could it be Lennier returning? Eagerly, she ordered the door to open, but gasped as a tall Drazi male stepped through. Then she recognized him -- it was the draz that the others had asked her about, so very insistently. "Dasouri!" she cried. "I was worried about you. Did you know that there are Drazi looking for you?" "Yes," the lanky draz replied. "Have had words with them." More than words, to judge by the synthskin bandage at his temple, and the way he held his right arm across his ribs. "Let me see that," she said, but he pulled away. "Is nothing." She started to protest, but he cut her off. "I stop by Medlab on way here -- did you know ISA President and Entil'zha have new baby? Have named him 'David Sheridan', afer Ambassador. Is good name," he went on. "Is good...*man*. Was first Human I ever saw, as very small child. Was great parade in capital -- very impressive. So mother says. I do not remember. Was *very* small child." "Dasouri," Lyndisty cut in hesitantly, "the ones who were looking for you, they said something about...G'kar. I had thought perhaps you were Kri Maru, from the way you spoke to us, but..." The young draz shook his head. "Not Kri Maru. They are...a good beginning for our people, but way I follow is more...what is word...rattical? Have good friends among them, though -- which is why I must go to Homeworld. Rumors spread from Zhabar -- dark rumors. I must go, to find out what is truth. Do you have pouch?" She hurried to the cabinet, unlocked it, and withdrew the small cloth bag. She could feel the shape of a data crystal within, plus several other small things she could not identify. She handed it to him, saying, "You *will* be careful, won't you?" "Oh, yes," he said cheerfully. "Besides, with words of great Narn leader in heart," he put the pouch carefully inside his tunic, "and face of pretty Centauri girl in head, what harm can come to Dasouri?" Smiling, trying to suppress her fears on both aliens' accounts, Lyndisty waved goodbye. **************** Blue Sector 04/11/2263 03:02 EST Stephen Franklin awoke out of dark dreams, focusing blearily on the clock on the nightstand. 03:02 AM. What was that Susan used to call it? Oh, yes, the 'Hour of the Wolf'. The darkest hour of the night, when weakened patients died, all hopes felt hollow, and despair seemed unconquerable. Frowning as he tried in vain to remember his dream, he turned over to face Tessa's shoulder, pale and shapely in the dim light leaking in from the main room. He sighed, snuggled closer, and fell back into a troubled sleep. Not far away, Elizabeth Lochley's dreams were also disturbing. She was searching for something -- *chasing* something -- some shadow of fear that, if she didn't run it down, would surely destroy the one she was sworn to protect. She ran and ran, through endless dark corridors, but always it skittered away out of sight before her, closer and closer to its goal....she moaned and stirred in her sleep, but did not wake. In a private ward of Medlab One, three figures slept -- the larger cradling the smaller cradling the tiniest -- sunk into an exhausted slumber that nothing save destruction of the station itself could disturb. Silently overriding the lock, a cloaked figure crept in. A darker shadow in a room lit only by the readouts of the monitoring equipment, he moved to the bed and loomed over the sleeping family. The baby woke, but did not cry. His milky eyes looked up, seeming to penetrate the darkness of the intruder's hood. A tiny fist flailed for a moment, then found its way into a tiny mouth. A much larger, pale hand reached out to touch the fuzzy little head, very lightly. "F'ta anloth sha'torr ne eklival," a voice issued softly from within the hood. The speaker hesitated, as if waiting for an acknowledgement, then bowed his head in resignation. He reached out again, but stopped short, drawing a caress just above the woman's cheek. Then he nodded -- a nod like an abbreviated bow -- to the man, whose face twitched into a frown, then relaxed in a smile and sigh as he held his wife and child closer. Quickly, resolutely then, the shadowed one straightened and turned to leave. He stopped, alerted by some unnamed instinct, and looked quickly around the room, but spotted nothing amiss. Gliding out of the chamber, he reset the lock as silently as he had opened it. From the far corner a golden light shimmered briefly, and a deep voice murmured, "Lath vei." ---- To Be Continued ---- From: Jakhel@aol.com Subject: VS6 Episode 8 Pt 6 of 6 Date: Sun, 17 Oct 1999 20:20:35 EDT B A B Y L O N 5 T H E V I R T U A L S I X T H S E A S O N: "T H E P R I C E O F F R E E D O M" E P I S O D E 8 "A W A Y I N A M E D L A B" by ANNE E. CLEMENTS Part 6 of 6 -- Disclaimers and other notes in Part 1. Envoi ----- Babylon 5 Zocalo 04/14/2263 10:25 EST Two female Rangers, one Minbari and one Human, made their way through the crowded marketplace toward the exit nearest the embarkation areas. "Give my regards to the High Councillor and Sech Westcastle," said the dark-haired woman. "And if Shival is still there, tell him I await his return with...most humble joy." "I will do so," agreed the tall Minbari, deadpan, "and will send word of the expression on his face when he hears it." As the Anla'Shok passed, Lennier reflexively pulled his hood up to cover his face. Anyone who knew him would have little trouble recognizing him now -- his features were still thin from fasting, but the hollow, haunted look of despair had been replaced by a new air of resolution. The Hour of the Wolf had passed. "There is still much I must learn, and much to be decided," he told the young Centauri woman at his side. "Captain Lochley can protect them from the obvious dangers, but it will be my place to seek out the darker and more hidden perils, the dangers they cannot see until it is too late." "I'm just glad you've found a way for yourself," said Lyndisty. "Nothing can excuse what I did," he replied, "but at least now I understand where it *came* from -- that was the part that nearly destroyed me. I truly believed that I had accepted her choice. I was working so hard with the Anla'Shok, to grow into the kind of person that...well, it doesn't matter now. Then, in a single moment, everything I believed, everything I knew of myself fell away. For the last months I have walked in darkness, believing that there was some terrible flaw in me, that I was not the person I had always thought I was." Lyndisty nodded -- through all her Companion's memories, *that* terror was always among the most debilitating. The Minbari smiled suddenly. "And of course, as it turns out, I was *not* quite the person I thought I was -- I am a creature of instinct, as well as reason. And I *am* flawed, but the flaws are those of arrogance, negligence, and hesitation: flaws common to all imperfect beings. As I said, none of that can excuse what I did, but it makes it comprehensible. Comprehending, I can find a way to go on, and perhaps someday to redeem myself -- if not in *her* eyes, at least in my own. "Twice I have chosen badly: first in not making my feelings clearer to both of them in the beginning, so that they could be dealt with openly instead of being left to grow in darkness -- and again when I let my suppressed hatred rule me, for that one critical moment on the way to Minbar. "This time, at last, perhaps I have chosen well." "I'm sure you have. But where will you go now?" Lyndisty asked, as they approached the entrance to the departure lounges. "First to Minbari space, to study further among the oldest of our records. And then -- I am not sure. But there is something..." He reached into his robes and pulled out a gleaming bit of metal and stone -- his Ranger badge. He pressed it reverently to his forehead, then handed it to the Centauri girl. "Please," he said, looking deeply into her eyes. "I cannot keep this, but I have not been able to bring myself to relinquish it. Keep it for me, until the day I can claim it again -- or until it is known that I will never claim it. Then..." he drew a deep breath, "if I should fall, return it to Delenn, and tell her what I have said here today." As Lyndisty's small hands closed over the brooch, she said, "Be careful, Lennier!" "Oh, yes!" he replied. "Now that I have something to *live* for." He bowed, then slipped away like a shadow into the crowd. Lyndisty turned and made her way back through the Zocalo. As she passed a shop whose window featured a display of baby clothing designed for various species, she collided with a slight, elderly woman with sleek blonde hair and an armful of packages. "I'm terribly sorry!" she cried, and bent to help the Human pick up her fallen bundles. A tiny jumpsuit had come unwrapped -- startled, the Centauri girl looked again at the woman's face. "Excuse me, are you not the Earth Ambassador's wife?" "Why, yes -- oh, you must be Vir's fiancee -- I remember you from that lovely dinner Ambassador Kullenbrok gave to welcome us here. I've been meaning to talk to you about your work in Down Below -- but I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a hurry right now. My son and daughter-in-law -- and my new grandson -- are leaving for Minbar today and I have to..." she nodded at the packages. "I quite understand. Give them my best wishes, will you? And call me when you get a chance -- we can always use more helping hands!" Stephen Franklin veered towards the Eclipse Cafe. He and Tessa had said their goodbyes earlier, in her quarters, and he wanted to get to the ship well before the others. He'd heard about the mob scene the last time Sheridan and Delenn had left the station, and he didn't want to get caught up in the inevitable repeat performance. He was, however, determined to take the time for one more cup of decent coffee, since it could be months before he was back in Earth space and could get another. He loaded up the extra-large, steaming IGOT! cup with hazelnut-cinnamon creamer, reveling in the rich aroma that took him back to the sidewalk cafes of Geneva. He smiled wryly to himself -- homesick already, and for a place he had only lived in for a few months? As he turned to find himself a table, he spotted the golden head of Officer Colin Ferris, bent over a datapad not ten feet away. He thought for a moment, breathing in the fragrant steam, then walked over to the Psi Cop's table. "May I?" he asked, indicating the empty chair. "Dr. Franklin!" Colin looked up with a brilliant smile. "I was hoping I'd have a chance to talk with you before you left." "Yeah, well, I'm on my way out now, but I thought I'd catch a last cup of coffee first." "Only the best," Colin agreed, indicating his own cup. "Those girls are something else, aren't they?" "Oh, yeah," Stephen laughed. "I remember the two of them all too well -- they were always underfoot, usually in some kind of trouble. But I had no idea they were involved in *this* level of...'subversive activity'. Of course, if I'd thought about it, I probably would have guessed they'd be in cahoots with Garibaldi, one way or another." "Now there's a man I *really* wish I could have met," observed the telepath. Several replies sprang to Stephen's mind, but he discarded most of them as being unfair, even to a Psi Cop. "I'm afraid he's not too fond of telepaths, as a rule," he said carefully. Colin shrugged. "So what else is new?" He hesitated. "I...um...I know you were involved with the underground railroad..." "How did you know about that?!?" asked Stephen, alarmed. If Psi Corps knew about that, even his current position might not save him from repercussions back home. "Well," the younger man replied, almost sheepishly, "I happened to, um, run across one of the people you helped, and in the course of the, ah, debriefing, your name came up..." it was the doctor's *face* that had come up, actually, and it was only when Colin had seen him in Customs that he had put the facts together, but he didn't feel that those details would substantially add to the explanation. "I don't believe anyone else knows about it, and at this late date I don't suppose there's any reason that they should. I only mention it because it would seem to indicate that your attitude towards our people might be a little less....rigid than some." "Depends what you mean by 'our people'," observed Stephen, taking a large slurp. "Damn, that's hot! Byron and Lyta tossed those words around a lot, and so did Bester. Well, actually, his trademark phrase is 'my telepaths', which I suppose is a bit different...." "It's a *lot* different," put in Colin sharply. "Not that I'd put myself on the side of the renegades, but I'll admit my feelings about my fellow telepaths are more akin to theirs than to Mr. Bester's. Believe it or not, doctor, there are those of us who do NOT believe that our abilities automatically make us the next evolutionary level of humanity -- especially now that it turns out that we were actually....*experiments* by the Vorlons. Whatever else we are, we are *people*, first, last, and always. End of speech," he added with a grin. Stephen found himself echoing that grin involuntarily -- which reminded him of what he had wanted to ask in the first place. Subtly, though, he reminded himself. Subtly. "Speaking of your abilities," he said. "Is it true that a P12 can influence people without their even realizing it? Make them fall in love with him, for instance?" "I'm not sure what you mean by that," Colin answered, frowning. "'Love' is a very complicated and subjective set of emotions and beliefs. I suppose one could...adjust a person's perceptions of one to a more favorable attitude, but anything serious would require either deep subconscious work or constant supervision -- and it goes without saying that either approach would be thoroughly illegal, as well as completely unethical." "I see," mused the doctor. "but someone like you would certainly be aware of it if anyone -- particularly a normal -- just happened to harbor any sort of ...romantic feelings?" Colin laughed. "That would be nice, wouldn't it? And, yes, under certain kinds of...rather embarrassing circumstances it can be difficult to block out particularly strong emotions, particularly if one's defenses are down or the person broadcasting is in close proximity. But in everyday encounters -- quite frankly, doctor, the irony of it is that you get so used to blocking out other minds, to *avoiding* paying attention to any signals you might get, in the interest of privacy, that such things are usually as much of a surprise to us as they are to you. More so, actually, since as a rule we aren't terribly good at reading 'body language'." "So, you haven't...noticed...anything like that around here?" Colin looked at him with total confusion in his bright blue eyes. "Excuse me? No offense, doctor, but monitoring other peoples' relationships is *not* part of my duties here!" Suddenly the light seemed to dawn. "Oh -- you must be worried that I've been picking up on you and Ms. Halloran. I can assure you that I have absolutely NOT been doing any such 'eavesdropping' on either of you! In fact, if it weren't for Dr. Hobbs' mentioning it, I'd have no idea that there was anything between you." A person would have had to be even more paranoid than the Security Chief to read any duplicity in the Psi Cop's open countenance. Stephen laughed in sheer, astonished relief. The guy honestly didn't get it! If this was a plot, it was laid much deeper than anyone in *his* position was likely to get -- or than Colin himself seemed to be aware of. "I appreciate that -- I think," he replied. Ferris wouldn't have had *any* idea they were...involved? Oh, well, never mind. "I suppose I'd better get to the ship if I'm going to avoid the President's *second* going-away party," he observed. He rose, contemplating his half-empty cup. "I think I'll just pick up a refill. Listen, I'm glad we got this chance to talk. Maybe we'll run into each other again some time..." He stuck out his free hand, and the telepath's gloved hand reached up to clasp it. "I certainly hope so, doctor." ------------------------------------------------------------------- T H E E N D ------------------------------------------------------------------- Coming Soon: Episode 9 -- "Crackdown" By Gary Boshears. In which Captain Lochley decides that it's time for some Spring Cleaning...