BABYLON 5: THE VIRTUAL SIXTH SEASON
"THE PRICE OF FREEDOM"
Episode 4
POMP AND CIRCUMSTANCE
Ambassador Vir Cotto of the Centauri Republic was awakened out of a sound sleep by the insistent tone of his Babcom unit. He had opted not to have a terminal installed in the sleeping room so he wouldn't be bothered in the middle of the night -- but he never remembered to turn the audio alert off when he went to bed, so the end result was that he had to get UP and INTO his robe and OUT the door and face whoever it was....
"Londo! I mean, Your Majesty! This is...such a surprise! I'm honored, of course, but...you'll have to forgive me, it's 2:30 in the morning here, I'm sure you remember what that's like..."
"Yess, Vir, it is good to see you too -- now stop blithering, I don't have much time," the Emperor began impatiently, then stopped as he noticed what Vir was wearing.
"What is that you are wearing?" he asked.
Vir looked down at himself. "M...my robe?"
"That...you are still wearing that...pathetic rag? I hereby command you -- as your Emperor -- to go tomorrow to Vicarno's in the Zocalo, and purchase a robe suitable to your station. Which is one of the things I wanted to discuss with you."
"M...my robe?" Vir said again. He supposed he must be waking up, since that sounded like blithering even to him.
"No, Vir," the Emperor replied with thinning patience, "your station. You are the Centauri Ambassador to Babylon 5, remember? Come on, wake up! I know you, Vir, you cannot possibly have been up late enough, either working or playing, to make one early morning so difficult to deal with."
Vir straightened up.
"As you know," the Emperor continued, "the sixth day from now, your time, will be the 33rd anniversary of my Day of Ascension."
Vir started counting on his fingers.
"Trust me," Londo advised. "I have people who keep track of these things for me now. I have people who keep track of everything for me now -- " he flinched slightly and went on, "but enough of that. It has been decided that this day is to be celebrated throughout the Republic, at home and abroad, as a day of solidarity and triumph. All over Centauri Prime there will be observances -- of a becoming modesty, to be sure, but...inspirational to our people. I understand that Planetary Security has even authorized an extension of the curfew -- it will be just like the bad old days, ah?
"At any rate, there will also be celebrations on our colonies, client worlds, and space stations, as well as our major population centers on alien worlds, such as Earth and Corianna 6. Aaannnd," he drew out the nonexistent suspense, "a particularly impressive observance will be expected from Babylon 5. YOU, Vir, will be in charge of the preparations."
"But...but I..."
"You will consult with Captain Lochley regarding a suitable facility for the main event, make certain that the important ambassadors attend, and arrange for coverage by the major news services, as well as hosting the formal celebration itself. You will of course be assisted by specialists in event management and public relations sent directly from the Royal Court."
"Specialists?"
"They will be arriving shortly -- you will need to arrange quarters for them. The details have been sent with your regular dispatches."
"Oh, yes, of course, but..."
"And one other thing. I realize that this will be a difficult task, and since I relied so heavily on your competence when I was in your position, I have decided to provide you with a similar...resource."
What was wrong with this picture, Vir wondered suddenly. Competence had never been among the traits Londo's frequent impromptu performance reviews had emphasized.
"An ATTACHE, Vir," the Emperor continued, noting his former attache's more-than-usually befuddled expression. "I have assigned you a personal assistant. We cannot have you running about the station arranging your own meetings, picking up your own dry cleaning, paying your own prostitutes...it is not appropriate to your position, nor does it give a good impression to the Alliance. I would have attended to this sooner, but...well....affairs of state, you know..."
Vir laughed sympathetically. "I can only imagine."
"Yesss...." Londo mused, his gaze sharpening dangerously, "I...imagine you can..."
"Well!" Suddenly the Ambassador felt very much awake. "I should, um, get right on this, then, Your Majesty. Um..."
"One more thing," Mollari cut in. "Your new attache is bringing his family with him. His entire family. You will need to find suitable, permanent quarters for all of them."
"His FAMILY?" Vir repeated, confused again. "All of...who...how many..."
"It is all in the dispatches, Vir. Enough now. Go back to bed -- it is obscenely early in the morning there." The screen blanked, leaving an equally blank Ambassador clutching at his robe.
****************
11:42 EST, 02/27/2263
The middle of the "day" in the Zocalo was a mob scene. Everybody who was anybody who wasn't on duty was out and about, and a good number of those who were on duty were making the most of their lunch break.
Ambassador Ta'Lon of Narn, Ambassador Sherann of Minbar, and Ambassador Lethke Kullenbrok of Brakir were engaged in conversation over by Jikkiri's JewelBox, while a young, flaxen-haired Human girl pored over a tray of earrings behind them. The Secretary of the Docker's Guild was discussing something urgently with an Assistant Coordinator of Resource Management, who was simultaneously trying to pry her two young children away from a toy shop window. Even Captain Lochley and Lieutenant Corwin could be spotted waiting for carryout at the Eclipse Cafe.
Further down the counter, the station's resident Psi Cop sat in his own little clearing. It was amazing how people instinctively avoided his vicinity, as though they thought being three feet further away from him would somehow protect them from his fearsome powers...Colin Ferris snorted wryly, slurped at his "coffee" and concentrated on his report.
At the other end of the vast chamber, Medlab's Chief of Staff, Dr. Lilian Hobbs, had run into Ambassador Cotto in Vicarno's, an exclusive boutique tucked behind the main staircase to the mezzanine.
"The Emperor ordered you to buy a bathrobe?"
"Yes, and the penalty for disobeying an Imperial command is death, so...well, at least it's very comfortable. It's just so..."
"It's LOVELY, Vir," the diminutive doctor assured him, letting her affection get the better of her professional reserve for once. "Just wearing those jewel colors when you are relaxing will be good for you -- trust me, I am your doctor! I do find it hard to believe that the Emperor called you at 2:30 in the morning just to criticize your wardrobe, though," she went on, as he handed the rich garment to the attendant for wrapping.
"Oh, that was only the beginning!" Vir replied. "As you may know, we Centauri celebrate the anniversary of our Day of Ascension -- the day we officially become adults -- much the same way you humans celebrate the anniversary of your birth. The Emperor's Ascension day is approaching, and I have been ordered to organize a public celebration here on Babylon 5."
"I see..." mused the doctor. "Under the circumstances, I'm not sure..."
"Under the circumstances is right!" The attendant handed the ambassador his package and his identicard, and the two wandered out of the shop. "Our homeworld has been devastated by the orbital attacks of the Narns and Drazi, we have seceded from the Interstellar Alliance, the raids perpetrated on the other Alliance races by our forces have made us hated throughout the known Galaxy, and to top it all off I've been having this odd pain right...here..." Vir contorted around his bulky package to indicate a spot roughly where a Human's kidney would be.
Dr. Hobbs smiled, and was just about to suggest he stop by Medlab One for a checkup and some stress reduction datacrystals, when her attention was caught by a nearby vid console. An ISN announcer was on --
"ISN is pleased to bring you this special transmission, direct from the headquarters of the Interstellar Alliance on Minbar."
The proprietor of the stall across the way turned up the volume -- all over the Zocalo other shopkeepers were doing the same, and the announcer's voice lifted over the crowd.
A murmur arose as the face of President Sheridan himself -- once commanding officer of this very station -- appeared on a score of screens. Dr. Hobbs and Ambassador Cotto exchanged a look of mingled curiosity and trepidation, then maneuvered for a better view.
"This is President John Sheridan of the Interstellar Alliance. Since the creation of the Alliance, over an Earth year ago, we have been working to establish basic policies on the major issues confronting our member races.
"Despite the...distraction of the recent war with the Centauri Republic, that process has continued, and we have made a gratifying amount of progress during the last few months, since the opening of our headquarters on Minbar.
"It has been decided by the Advisory Board, with the approval of the full Council, to announce today the first of those policies. This statement has been ratified by all members of the Interstellar Alliance, including the Earth Alliance and the Mars Free State.
"It is a policy," the President hesitated, taking a breath and settling that implacable gaze on fifty billion spectators, "concerning Human telepaths who wish to leave the Human Psi Corps and seek asylum with the Interstellar Alliance."
A buzz of consternation arose from the crowd, punctuated by the sound of a tempered glass coffee mug hitting the deck.
***************** ACT ONE *****************
12:03 EST, 02/27/2263
The commentary in the Zocalo died down as the ISA president's speech went on, spelling out the newly-codified policies on immigration and emigration between galactic states. Each member government had its own standards -- some categorically refused citizenship to members of other species, others welcomed them with open arms (or whatever), and there were a few other cases like Earth, where a single species propagated its ethnic or ideological distinctions to the stars. In addition, there were innumerable degrees of federation and ownership -- colonies, client states, protectorates, and scores of other categories, each with its subtle legal and political nuances.
Simply determining which organizational structures were and were not eligible for direct representation in the Interstellar Alliance was a thorny and ongoing issue, and much of the delay in issuing this first statement was due to the sheer analytical infrastructure-building that was needed to formulate it. Similarly, its implications went far beyond its effect on a few renegade telepaths, however disturbing that might be to those directly affected.
Such as Colin Ferris, who had picked up his mug and was staring dazedly at the nearest monitor. Why hadn't he been warned? Surely Psi Corps had known this was in the wind...undoubtedly they had had some voice in the Earth Alliance representative's input into the discussions. Contrary to the paranoia of certain mundanes, however, Psi Corps was NOT currently in the driver's seat of the EA. Colin wrenched his mind away from THAT train of thought and focused on what Sheridan was saying.
"The Interstellar Alliance is not, itself, a state. It has no homeworld, although the Minbari have graciously allowed us to build our headquarters on theirs. Most of those who serve the Alliance -- the support staff for that headquarters, the maintenance workers for the White Star shipyards, the Rangers themselves, will retain their native citizenships. Some of us, however, must give our primary allegiance to the Alliance itself, above our native worlds, our native peoples. In some cases dual citizenship may be allowed -- I myself, Entil'zha Delenn, and certain of our staff have exercised this option. For others, the only option is to renounce their original citizenship and become citizens of the Alliance alone.
"There may be some individuals who will see this option as an opportunity -- who will apply to the Interstellar Alliance for asylum and eventual citizenship as a means of escaping conditions at home that they consider inimical or oppressive. While we sympathize with these people, we are not currently in a position to serve as a refuge for individuals, however just their cause.
"As I said earlier, the Alliance will enforce the immigration andemigration policies of member races, and will itself consider applications for citizenship with rigorous attention to the merits of the applicants and the needs of the Alliance. This policy applies EQUALLY to individuals with, and without, psionic abilities.
"In order to implement this policy fairly, to ensure that all individuals have access to the proper channels in their own civilizations and those they may wish to join, The Interstellar Alliance will provide assistance and legal counselling, in conjunction with our diplomatic offices serving the member states.
"Finally, all telepaths, of whatever species, living and working outside their home jurisdiction will be subject to restrictions based on the Earth Alliance legal code. Violation of these restrictions will result in sanctions including extradition to the offender's home government, and/or exclusion from ISA jurisdictions and services, depending on the circumstances.
"Thank you for your time and attention. We plan to have further announcements shortly."
The President's image winked out.
"Well," said the current commanding officer of Babylon 5, looking up at the vid console, now reoccupied by the ISN anchorwoman. "I never thought I'd see the day when John Sheridan resorted to doubletalk."
"I thought it was a very well-reasoned resolution of a difficult and complex issue," replied her First Officer. Lochley cut him a look. Behind them, the counterman went back to putting their lunch orders together.
"Well-reasoned, perhaps, but it's going to be hell to implement," the Captain returned. "The very fact that there IS an official procedure for escaping Psi Corps -- or any other oppressive situation, for that matter -- is going to bring hopeful emigrants to the ISA diplomatic offices in droves.
"Their staff is going to be swamped, and the people waiting, the disappointed applicants -- these are NOT going to be happy people. Not to mention the lengths...certain organizations will go to to keep their people -- or to recruit others." Lochley sighed deeply. "And I'll give you three guesses WHICH diplomatic office the bulk of the hopeful emigrants are going to end up at..."
"You think they'll come here?" Corwin's open countenance took on a look of concern.
"What do YOU think?"
He thought about it.
"I think they'll come here," he decided.
The Captain picked up her bag and thanked the attendant. "I also can't help noticing that the President waited until AFTER he'd left the station to drop this little bomb on us," she added. "It's all very well for him to start establishing policies, now that he's not in the position of enforcing them personally." She sighed again. "I bet I'll get a Gold Channel call about this any minute -- we'd better get back to C&C."
As she turned, she ran smack into the Centauri Ambassador, who was clutching a bulky parcel. They exchanged apologies, but before she could move on, Vir called to her.
"Oh, Captain! I know you must be terribly busy, especially with this..." he jerked his head at the nearest vid console, "development, but if you could spare me a few minutes later today, I have something rather urgent that I need to discuss with you."
"I'm afraid I can't make any promises, Ambassador," Lochley replied reluctantly. "Can you give me an idea of what you want to discuss? Briefly," she added.
Vir swallowed, then gave it a shot -- "The Emperor's Ascension Day is coming up, and my government wants me to organize a celebration on the station -- diplomats, network coverage, the whole ball of wax, as you people say. I was hoping to discuss available facilities, and, well..."
"Whooo!" The Captain blew out a sigh. "I suspect you're going to need all the help you can get, Mr. Cotto. I'll tell you what. Why don't you contact Resource Management -- find out what's available in terms of conference space -- and I'll try to make some time to strategize with you later this afternoon."
"That would be fine -- I have an appointment with them about some...other arrangements anyway. Thank you, Captain, and if there's anything I can do..."
"We'll talk later, Vir," she assured him, and headed off toward the transport tubes, Corwin trailing behind her like a loyal but slightly confused wolfhound.
Back at the cafe, Colin Ferris was trying, unsuccessfully, to finish his report. His mind (his so-disciplined mind) kept jumping back to the President's speech, following the implications as his fingers followed the patterns of the rote phrases he was entering into the datapad.
As he worked, he gradually became aware of a sort of tickling in the back of his mind, creeping under his shields. He looked up, tring to identify the feeling. It wasn't a scan, and it wasn't leakage from another telepath in the crowd -- or even from a highly emotional mundane.
When he finally came up with an analogy for the strange sensation, it took him back over twenty years, to the Psi Corps compound outside Toronto where he'd grown up.
One of his age-mates, a boy called Johann, had been in some ways a success and in other ways a failure of the much-debated Psi Corps breeding program. As a baby, he had tested extremely high in psi potential, but a rare congenital defect, concentrated by inbreeding, had given him useless stumps for legs.
Neither that nor the traditional segregation of latent and actively telepathic children had stopped the two boys from becoming best friends -- and with 23rd-Century prosthetics technology, it had not noticeably restricted them from getting into more mischief than most people would think possible in a regimented society where the grownups only had to LOOK at you to know what you were planning. Colin's power had come to him early and strong, which helped to a degree, but a certain amount of his flexibility, his humour, and his uncanny ability to "improvise" plans that came together like clockwork undoubtedly stemmed from those youthful adventures.
Johann's power had manifested with puberty, as was common among certain strains of telepaths. The first time Colin had touched his friend's mind and felt Johann's new awareness of his thoughts and feelings, there had been a sensation very much like what Colin was feeling now.
The older Colin, seated, flashed on the younger Colin, standing, feeling reflected in Johann's mind the delicate balance of muscle and bone, the incredible power that Johann had never had, could never have, yet could have had, maybe should have had...
To follow the analogy on out, Colin could almost say it felt like the person he was "eavesdropping" on was...dancing....
His gaze sharpened and he looked around. The Zocalo had returned to its normal midshift bustle -- he certainly didn't see anyone dancing...
He gathered up his datapad, returned his mug to the attendant, and went into hunter-mode. Whatever this psionic trail he was on turned out to be, it was definitely Human, and like nothing he'd run across in the standard courses, which made it his business.
And of course this had to come up now, he thought wryly as he shouldered past shoppers and sightseers, ignoring their automatic recoil as they registered his uniform and badge. Now, right after this new ISA policy had made his job that much more...interesting, Colin being the officially assigned Psi Corps watchdog on the station that hopeful renegade teeps with any remaining pretensions to legitimacy would be guaranteed to flock to...then again, maybe now he'd get some help. Oddly, that thought didn't cheer him as much as it would have when he'd first arrived...
There!
Colin's head swiveled, like a hunting dog coming on point. That kiosk -- the Brakiri jewelry shop. The Brakiri Ambassador was talking to the proprietor -- a particularly obsequious-looking chap, Colin noted in passing. At the other end of the counter, a young Human girl was lounging, looking out into the crowd. Behind her, a locked cabinet held pieces too valuable to display openly...or at least, it was *supposed* to be locked. Colin could just make out the slightly-too-dark line between the door halves, the slight angle of reflection from one of the glass panels...and the surreptitious movement of one of the pieces inside as it edged itself toward the opening.
As Colin approached, the necklet slithered into the girl's open belt pouch like a friendly little snake. Her gaze swept across Colin -- her eyes widened. His mouth set in a grim smile, the Psi Cop headed straight for her. She turned and ran for the nearest exit.
Colin gave chase, shouldering past startled pedestrians. The girl looked back, pale hair flying, and collided with a Pak'ma'ra. Stumbling backward, she crashed into a liquor-merchant's stand -- Colin leaped towards her, but the falling bottles swerved, shattering harmlessly around her as she gathered herself and took off running again. Colin darted past the yelling Abbai proprietor, following that bright flag of hair through the crowd. She darted up the stairs to the mezzanine, across the catwalk, and down the other side, heading for the main entrance and the transport tubes. One opened -- she squeezed past exiting passengers to duck into it, and the door snapped shut.
Colin slammed into the thick metal panel, cursing as he tried in vain to follow the elusive trail of psionic....tickles. The sensation faded quickly and was gone.
"Having a bad day, Mr. Ferris?" a dry alto voice cut through his frustration. He turned to meet the cool gaze of the Director of ISA Covert Intelligence. Normally, he quite enjoyed fencing with Ms. Tessa Halloran, finding her deadpan stiletto wit a pleasant complement to his own, but right now it was just one barb too many.
"Just trying to do my job, Ms. Halloran, preventing the psionically gifted from taking undue advantage of their talents." He rested his head against the metal door for a moment. "Even when it means frightening little girls half to death, driving them to steal in order to get by in a world that doesn't understand them -- a world that holds out hope with one hand but takes it away with the other, where even those who should be as mother and father to them sometimes seem more frightening than the outside world..." He trailed off, staring at nothing in the Zocalo.
"Sorry I asked. Was that girl a renegade telepath, then?"
Colin took a deep breath and pulled himself together. "No. Not a telepath -- at least, not strong enough to notice. Something much rarer -- something I've never encountered myself -- she's a telekinetic. She can move objects with her mind..." noting Halloran's look of skepticism, he protested, "I saw it. And...felt it, I'm not sure how..."
"Where did you see this?" she asked, focusing on the relevant details. Colin led her back to the jewelry shop, where it turned out several valuable pieces were missing, and the cabinet was unaccountably unlocked.
Security had been called by then, and Sgt. Satamba, Chief Allan's second in command, arrived shortly to take the Brakiri's statement. The man swore he had locked the cabinet, and produced the key, worn as a pendant on a fine chain around his neck. Colin held it in his hand, turning it over and over and gazing raptly at the dark gemstone embedded in the non-business end.
"Psychometry, Mr. Ferris?" Halloran suggested.
"Of course not, that's just an old wives' tale," the telepath replied absently. He handed the key back to its owner. "I was just trying to figure out who this girl could be, where she could have come from. This new ISA policy...is not going to be a good thing for my people. And yet," he sighed, "I'm not sure what a better approach would be."
"I'm not sure I follow."
"She must have been stranded here when the other telepaths -- Byron's people -- left a few months ago. But she won't be the last. Now, just knowing that there is a legal way out will encourage misguided, unhappy people to come here, to try to emigrate to other worlds, or get a place with the ISA, but the fact that most will be refused will make them even more desperate than they would have been if they hadn't bet all they had on a chance that never really existed...there will be more children like her here, and I'll have to track them down..."
"But the policy is very clear about the limitations," Halloran said firmly, "and that the ISA will be enforcing them...besides, our options are rather limited. On the one hand, we can't prevent people moving between galactic states, and on the other hand, we can't encourage it, either -- we'd get requests for asylum from every sentient with access to transport who felt persecuted or otherwise disadvantaged at home."
"I've always thought bilateral symmetry was overrated," Colin observed.
Tessa smiled thinly. "At any rate," she continued, "the ISA is trying to steer a middle course, hoping we can build on that as time goes on. Just getting this preliminary statement ratified took some major arm-twisting, on several levels. As you might guess, Psi Corps lobbied against it, but other interests in Earthdome overruled them. Mars and the other former Earth colonies were just as upset, for the opposite reasons."
"Why am I not surprised," the Psi Cop said dryly. He pulled his thoughts back to his immediate problem. "Ms. Halloran, I'd appreciate it if you could check with your people and find out what, if anything, they know about this girl."
"Frankly, Mr. Ferris, my first impulse is to try to find her before you do and help her get away...but she did commit a crime, and my resources are available to Security. As long as you work with them," she emphasized, "what I know, you will know." Colin nodded, and she turned to walk away.
She turned back.
"But then...." she started, then stopped. She saw his expression -- saw how truly conflicted he was about this whole thing -- and thought better of tossing off the obvious crack about him being able to know what she knew anyway. "Never mind," she said, almost sympathetically. "I'll be in touch."
Colin watched her walk away, savoring the small silver thread in what was shaping up to be an unusually cloudy afternoon.
****************
12:26 EST, 02/27/2263
Deep in the lower reaches of Brown Sector, a small, hooded figure banged frantically on a closed door.
"I got it!" a muffled cry came from within, and the fugitive sighed in relief. A moment later, the door opened just enough to reveal a Human girl, perhaps eleven standard years of age. Her melting-pot features and thick, curly black hair promised startling beauty in a few years, but at the moment "urchin" was probably the most accurate description. She took one look at the figure in the doorway and yelled back over her shoulder.
"Trish! I'm goin' out for a while!"
"Dja get your tuts done?" came the reply. "You know you have a math test tomorrow!"
"I know, I know, I'll study when I get back," the girl promised, scuttling out the door. "Man, she is always on my case about schoolwork -- like it's gonna make a difference." They headed down the dim corridors, and eventually found a sheltered niche.
The other's hood fell back, reveal the pale hair and features of the thief from the Zocalo.
"I'm in trouble, Selene -- big trouble," she said quickly. "You know the new Psi Cop? He spotted me snorking stuff from Jikkiri's -- the only reason I got away was it was so crowded with everyone talkin' about the President's speech, but I know he's gonna come after me and..."
"Whoa, whoa, slow down a minute, Lucy, you're losin' me. You were snorking Jikkiri's? Are you NUTS?"
"I figured it was safe. It was lunchtime -- and with what I could get for the stuff, I might be able to make it home...G'stral said he'd help me get a ticket if I could come up with the credits..."
"Yeah, I know, Luce, but getting yourself caught isn't the way to do it. But why was the PSI Cop after you? You're not a teep!"
"Of course I'm not, but my ma and pa were. And...you know what I can do. The only other person I know about who could do it was one of us, so maybe the Psi Cops want to catch people like me, too -- maybe he could feel it or something. I'm scared, Selene. Do you think he'll send the Bloodhounds after me?"
"No, of course not, silly, and even if he did, we'd find a way to keep you safe," the older girl assured her, looking worried. "Listen, did anyone else see you doing it?"
"I...I don't think so. He came right for me...I think he just knew..."
"It's okay, Luce, I know some real good hiding places -- including a couple even our Narn buddy doesn't know about. Have you eaten?" she went on. "Let's get you settled in and I'll get you some food. Did you keep hold of the stuff?"
Lucy nodded and handed her the pouch. Selene looked inside and whistled.
"Okay, I'll get this to G'stral as soon as you're hid. So, what was that about a speech?"
"Oh, some ISN thing -- that President guy that used to be here was on. I wasn't paying a whole lot of attention..."
***************** ACT TWO *****************
14:04 EST, 02/27/2263
Vir Cotto made his way through the maze of Blue Sector corridors that housed the sprawling conglomeration of offices, storerooms, and control centers collectively designated "Resource Management". He was looking forward to his meeting with the new Assistant Coordinator with mingled dread and hope.
Dread, because he had so much to ask of her, on such short notice. Also because his previous dealings with her colleagues had not always been moments of unalloyed joy and mutual satisfaction.
Hope, because while her predecessor (who had returned to Earth early last year under curious circumstances, reportedly involving a Pak'ma'ra religious ceremony, a misplaced container of what any other species would consider sewage, and Captain Lochley's shower....) had been the worst of the lot, Vir had been hearing very good things about this Miriam Satamba. First of all, she was married to Zack's second, Sergeant Glenn Satamba, which was a good recommendation in Vir's book (somehow, Humans seemed to do better at selecting compatible...what was that odd English word...spice? than most Centauri he knew). Plus, by all reports she was sympathetic, energetic, and surprisingly flexible for a career bureaucrat. Vir paused outside the Assistant Coordinator's office.
"Nnnooooooooooooo!!!!!!"
A cry of outrage shrilled from within. A disappointed petitioner, perhaps? Maybe he should come back another time...no, he had an appointment. Hesitantly, he knocked at the frosted glastic door.
"Come!" A musical contralto called the door open. The Ambassador entered, to find not an outraged alien but an outraged child, no more than a meter high. A slightly larger Earthling was gathering up an assortment of input pads and stuffed toys, while Ms. Satamba attempted to reason with this small sentient creature.
"Dara will play with you, JoJo. You know Dara. You like Dara." she hit a button on her desk. "Dara! My fourteen-hundred is here. Please come get the children."
"Nnnnnooooooooooo!!!!!"
A young Hyach woman came in behind Vir and gathered up the children -- miraculously, JoJo began chattering animatedly with her as soon as she appeared, and hardly seemed to notice when they left the room.
"I must apologize, Ambassador," the Assistant Coordinator began. An attractive middle-aged woman of the dark-skinned Human subspecies, her apology was frank, and without the nervous self-consciousness many mothers, both Human and Centauri, would have displayed. Vir found himself smiling in return.
"No, no, they were charming. That is," he reconsidered, "anyone could see that they would be charming, in...um...different circumstances...."
"The circumstances are unusual, Ambassador. The children's playgroup leader was ill today, and my backup is taking the dockworker's exam, so, rather than postpone our meeting I decided to bring them with me. Please, have a seat." He did so. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, ummm..." should he start with the celebration, or the quarters? "I need to reserve a rather large room -- the Mosque or the Reception Hall would do nicely -- for an evening party six days from now."
"That should be no problem," Ms. Satamba consulted her monitor, frowning slightly as she scrolled through the display. "Oh, my," she said, "This does not look good. There is an emergence ceremony for the newest assistant to the Gaim Ambassador scheduled for the Mosque, and a party for the champions of the Red Sector zero-G bowling league in the Reception Hall. Could you possibly hold this event a day earlier, or a day later....?"
"That's not....possible, Ms. Satamba. You see, this is not only a matter of grave diplomatic significance, but terribly important to all the Centauri on this station, which at last count was, um, twenty two..."
"Twenty three thousand, four hundred and thirteen," the Assistant Coordinator supplied. "It sounds like quite a party," she added. That was all the encouragement Vir needed to lay his troubles at her feet -- or on her desk, anyway.
"Well!" she said when Vir ran down. "Let us tackle the simpler problems first. How many of these 'specialists' did you say were coming?"
"Seven," Vir responded, glad there was something he could answer definitively. "An Event Coordinator and his assistant, a Publicity Coordinator and his assistant, and a Caterer and his two assistants."
"Can we put the principals in C-size quarters and the assistants in a size H room? There is an adjoining set like that three levels down from you, not far from Ambassador Mollari's old suite. By the way, have you given any thought to moving back there, now that things have quieted down a bit?"
"No, not really. I don't know, it...just wouldn't feel right somehow. If you need the space, I can contact his family and have his furnishings shipped back home..."
"There is no urgency, Ambassador. For some reason, everyone I have offered those particular quarters to has chosen otherwise -- I cannot imagine why that would be, but there it is."
Vir found it impossible to take offence at her mild sarcasm, particularly when it was delivered in that soft, musical accent. He couldn't place it, although he knew he had heard it before -- something about islands, with those finger-leafy trees, fluttered through his mind.
"All right, that takes care of them," Ms. Satamba input the i.d. codes from Vir's proffered datapad to the registration system. "Now for your attache. Permanent quarters for...how many, did you say?"
"I'm not quite sure. The dispatches were unusually vague. All they said was 'Volga Jaddo and family..."
"Ah. This Mr. Jaddo is, let me see, the equivalent of twenty two Earth Standard years, of good family....oh." She stopped, caught by some detail in Jaddo's file. Vir could guess what it was. She went on. "To be generous, let us assume either one wife and two children or two wives and one child. That's another C -- I have one on your level, two corridors over. Of course, if you like, I could put the Event Coordinator and his colleagues there..."
"No," Vir said quickly. "This way is better. My attache should be close to me, and, um..."
"The specialists should be near their assistants," Ms. Satamba finished for him.
"Precisely," he agreed. Once that was set up, they went back to the problem of finding a facility for the main event. The Sanctuary was too small, the Zen Garden too vulnerable -- in a moment of whimsy Vir suggested using one of the game courts. The baseball diamond, perhaps -- a sudden gleam woke in the Assistant Coordinator's eyes.
"Come with me," she said, grabbing a datapad and heading out the door. She collected her children from the Hyach secretary, and the four of them trooped out of the Resource Management complex like an oddly-assorted family party.
The image stayed in Vir's mind as they took the core shuttle halfway down the axis, then rode the lift down to the surface, gradually getting their weight back. He couldn't quite decide whether he felt more like the misfit cousin or the family...oh, what was the Earth analog to gordos? Ah, yes, the family duck.
Definitely the family duck, he decided as the little girl grabbed his arm and pulled him over to look at a flowering bush.
Eventually they arrived at a long, low building with "Unit 3 Recreation Center" emblazoned above the doorway in half a dozen scripts and languages. Inside, past a large entry hall lined with bulletin boards (electronic and otherwise) and three separate service desks (all unoccupied), they turned right through another set of double doors. Vir followed the Assistant Coordinator into a huge, high-ceilinged room with a polished wooden floor. Bleachers lined the rear wall, and floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall. Presumably, the windows were impact-proof, judging from the number of large orange balls flying around the room. Several sets of young people, mostly but not exclusively Humans, were trying to fling the balls through small hoops attached to the end walls several neters up.
"What do you think?" Ms. Satamba asked brightly. "There was a Drazi tokball tournament scheduled for that day, however the only tok on station fell ill and died. A replacement will not be available for several weeks."
"But...Ms. Satamba...this is...a *gymnasium*!" the Ambassador protested, hoping he'd remembered the right word.
"So it is. With a lovely floor, once these lines are removed, a magnificent view, and plenty of seating space. With a little decoration it should be just fine. Your people will have the entire afternoon to work on it. Trust me, Ambassador, you will hardly recognize the place!"
"I suppose..."
"There we are then, all set. Now, is there anything else I can do for you, Ambassador?"
"No, I...I...no thank you," he managed. She beamed at him.
"Come along, children!" she called.
"Mama, can we go home through the Maze?" the little girl beseeched winningly.
"That is a very good idea, Akili. Ambassador, would you care to join us?"
"I'm afraid I can't -- I have an appointment with the Captain in a few minutes..."
"Good day, then, Ambassador." Vir waved at the little girl as they disappeared down the path.
****************
17:00 EST, 02/27/2263
The door to the Narn Ambassador's quarters slid open, and Captain Lochley stepped inside. The first thing she noticed was the light, set a couple of notches brighter than G'Kar had kept it. It was noticeably cooler, too, she realized. Then the other changes registered.
G'Kar was a Narn who enjoyed his comforts (rough and barbaric as they might seem to a Centauri or Minbari). From the flat-out sybaritic furnishings in the sleeping alcove to the clutter of souvenirs and tchotchkes that had littered every available surface, the previous Ambassador's quarters had spoken as eloquently as the man himself of warmth, coziness and a keen delight in informal socializing -- in the alcove or out of it.
All that was gone.
What little furniture remained -- a narrow desk that apparently doubled as a dining table, several strictly-functional chairs, a pair of bookcases, and a hard, narrow pallet -- was shoved ruthlessly against the walls. The thick carpet had been replaced by the room's one visible luxury -- a parquet floor in intricate patterns of gold and brown.
In the middle of that floor, clad only in short, supple, reptile-hide trousers, Ambassador Ta'Lon was in the middle of a complicated drill. A practice sword, similar in weight and balance to his famous katok, flashed as he whirled it around his head, leaping, twisting, lunging, stamping, to end in a perfect salute before the startled Captain.
The Narn was breathing just a little harder than usual -- and after that display of reptilian virility, Lochley found to her amusement that she was, too.
"Good day, Captain. Is there anything I can do for you?"
Lochley suppressed a smile, reflecting that it was a good thing this wasn't G'Kar, since he probably would have meant that the way it sounded.
However, this was most definitely not G'Kar, and Lochley was not nearly as optimistic about the outcome of this conversation as if it had been. For all of his ferocious sense of honor, and his innate fair-mindedness, Ta'Lon was first and foremost a warrior, of a warrior race, and what the Captain had to ask was going to rub every instinct he had the wrong way. Perhaps she should have left it to Vir -- it was his problem, after all -- but no, that would have been a disaster. Ta'Lon and General Marrago might have achieved a 'meeting of the minds' in their adventure a few weeks ago, but a lifetime of oppression and retribution had conditioned him deeply that the Centauri were, in the end, the Enemy. Lochley temporized, looking around the room as she tried to think of a way to introduce the topic gently.
"I wanted to congratulate you on the confirmation of your appointment. And ...I see you've done some redecorating," she observed.
Ta'Lon accepted the deflection gracefully. "Indeed. I was just testing out the new floor. It is an indulgence, but a useful one. As for the rest -- I am a simple man, Captain. I do not mean to cast aspersions on my....illustrious predecessor, but I find I am more comfortable with fewer things around me."
"Among our people," the Captain commented, "The religious life is associated with asceticism, yet Ambassador G'Kar, who is revered among your people as a spiritual leader, was -- and presumably still is -- quite fond of creature comforts, while you, a much more secular sort of person, live in almost monastic austerity."
"Ironic, isn't it?" Ta'Lon smiled and drew breath -- presumably to ask again about her business here. She jumped in quickly to head him off.
"Those forms you were practicing -- is that a Narn tradition, or..." she wanted to say "just something you made up yourself", but didn't quite dare.
"No, it's just something I made up myself, after observing many species' disciplines. Now, Captain," he prodded gently, "how can I help you?"
Lochley drew a deep breath, reflexively locking her hands behind her in that seriously misnamed 'at ease' stance.
"I have a request...from Ambassador Cotto."
Ambassador Ta'Lon's head lifted in surprise -- then a smile flashed across his leathery face. "If the Centauri Ambassador desires lessons in swordsmanship, I'm certain I can arrange something...Marrago and I could have used another blade at our last little excercise, although I must admit he did well enough as it was!"
As was often the case, it was hard to tell whether the Narn was joking or not. Lochley had only caught the end of their recent showdown with the Shadow Warrior, but what she had seen had been bad enough.
"Ah, no, it's not that," she demurred. "I'll be sure to relay the offer, though. The situation is this, Ambassador," she went on, "Emperor Mollari's Ascension Day is coming up, and since it's his first since coming to the throne, the Centauri government has decided to hold public celebrations on Centauri Prime, on their colony and client worlds -- and here, on Babylon 5." Lochley's heart sank as the Narn's expression hardened. "Ambassador Cotto feels that it is particularly important for the other ambassadors to attend the main event, and I agree with him. Will you give us your support, Ambassador?"
Ta'Lon turned away abruptly, carefully replacing his practice sword in its rack, just below the katok (which could not, traditionally, be drawn without tasting blood). He took a moment to gather his thoughts, then turned back.
"The internal affairs of the Centauri are not our concern," he said firmly. "I will neither support nor protest this...celebration. It is...irrelevant to the Narn Regime."
"Ambassador, I have spoken with Sherann and Lethke about this -- they were both very supportive. Perhaps..."
"And Vizhak?" the Narn cut in. "Was the Drazi also supportive?"
"He's next on my list," the Captain admitted. Ta'Lon snorted derisively. She decided to give it one more shot. "Ta'Lon, you know Mollari. I confess I'm...mystified by the attitude of the Centauri government -- sure, they're understandably upset about the attack on their homeworld, but turning away from the ISA as a whole just doesn't make sense. I'm sure the Emperor is just...bowing to political necessity, appeasing some reactionary elements in his government. Sooner or later, things are bound to ease up. Maybe showing your goodwill in these kinds of situations..."
"Captain," Ta'Lon interrupted, smiling almost gently, "You are a warrior, not a diplomat. This -- what do you humans call it -- doubletalk? Second guessing? It does not become you. You have asked. I have answered. Let that be enough."
Lochley laughed shortly. "A warrior, not a diplomat." She took a turn around the room, eyeing the katok and its commoner cousin thoughtfully.
"That's very true, Ta'Lon," she said, turning back to face the Narn Ambassador. "And it's just as true of you. We've both been thrust into positions that our soldiers' training never prepared us for. The only way either of us knows to handle it is by using what we do have -- our courage, our loyalty, our common sense -- and by standing together. If you stand with me on this, Ta'Lon, I assure you you won't regret it," she said, crossing her fingers behind her back.
Ta'Lon looked at the Human woman, considering, for what seemed like a long time. At last he nodded, once.
"As one warrior to another, Captain, I will stand with you. I will attend this...Centauri extravagance. But do not expect many of my people to accompany me, nor shall we stay long."
"I'm sure that will be fine," Lochley assured him. "Frankly, it would probably make the Centauri nervous to have a large contingent of Narns show up at their party. Good day, then, Ambassador." She left quickly, not wanting to think about the slow smile spreading over the Narn's face at her last words.
Well, at least that was over, she thought. One more to go, and she'd leave the rest for Vir to cajole. Ambassador Vizhak of the Drazi -- it might be difficult to get his support, as the Drazi were still smarting over the illicit Centauri raids on their shipping lines last year. Still, it had all been a mistake, and the Centauri were paying reparations set by the ISA. At any rate, the Drazi couldn't possibly be harder to convince than the Narn...
****************
17:30 EST, 02/27/2263
"NO! NEVER!!" thundered the scaled Ambassador.
"Drazi will NOT participate in Centauri....sssselebration. Drazi do not trade with Centauri. Drazi do not speak to Centauri. Drazi will not.....PARTY with Centauri!"
"Well, that's not strictly true, Ambassador," Lochley protested, grasping at straws. "There are several joint business ventures just on this station..."
"ENOUGH!" Vizhak bellowed. "No more discussion. Is not Alliance business, is not station security issue....yet..." his beady little eyes promised that that might change if Lochley kept pestering him. "so no more talk. I have reports to prepare. You have station to run. Good day, Captain."
With no other option, the Captain retreated. Somehow, she suspected that the 'fellow warrior' line would not go over with Ambassador Vizhak, who had survived several of the periodic Drazi governmental...adjustments with his career more-or-less intact. Vir was just going to have to do without the Drazi, or discuss the matter with Vizhak himself. A few lessons in swordsmanship might be very useful in that discussion, she reflected.
After the Captain left, the Drazi Ambassador stood looking at the door for some time, thoughts flying through his reptiloid brain much faster than more verbally effusive species tended to give him credit for. At last he grunted sharply and activated his Babcom unit, keying in a high-level encryption code.
***************** ACT THREE *****************
17:20 EST, 02/28/2263
Lucy Thoreson was the girl's name. Colin had picked her out of the Securecam logs and Zack Allan had pulled up her file -- such as it was. She was indeed flotsam of the telepath fracas some months before, and had apparently been living hand-to-mouth in Downbelow ever since. Security was told to keep an eye out for her, but since Colin had assured him that she wasn't actually a telepath, she wasn't at the top of Zack's priority list.
Therefore, Psi Police Officer Ferris had decided to take a walk around the station on his own.
Oddly enough, Covert Intelligence Director Halloran had also been taken with a random whim to stroll through Brown Sector. Touch base with some contacts, pick up the general feel of the place -- all part of the job. She had just entered the market in Brown 37 when she spotted Colin across the room. Someone else spotted him, too -- a Human child with curly black hair froze, then ducked behind a fruit stand and took off for the nearest exit. Tessa took off after her, and, seeing them, Colin brought up the rear.
The little rat wasn't bad, Halloran admitted a few minutes later as she dropped down from a ventilation duct into a theoretically blocked-off section of chambers. Behind her, she could hear muffled curses as the Psi Cop squoze those...admirable shoulders past the conduits running through the duct.
Never mind that, though, where...a sudden clatter drew her on. When she heard voices, she hung back, easing up to a doorway blocked by a tumbled heap of packing crates and discarded furniture. A scatter of smaller containers showed where the girl (she was pretty sure it was a girl) had clambered over. Colin came up behind her, and they both crept close enough to peer through chinks in the piled junk.
The room was about three meters square, with what was probably a bolthole, covered by canvas sacking, in one rear corner. in the other, the young telekinetic and her benefactress huddled together, talking quietly and sharing the food the older girl had brought.
Belatedly, Tessa tapped her link and murmured to Security for backup. She caught Colin looking at her hand with a bemused, almost offended expression. He looked up at her and gave a wry smile. "I have GOT to start remembering to put mine on in the morning," he said softly.
She flashed him a grin -- then her eyes narrowed. "Can you tell where that back door goes?"
He concentrated, then shook his head. "If I were closer, I might be able to trace it a little ways..."
Tessa snorted. "By that time it'd be academic. All right then, over the top."
"Shouldn't we..." Colin protested, but the lithe blonde was already halfway up the pile. He followed, ducking flying debris. The girls jumped up and, predictably, headed for the back door. The black-haired one got partway in, then turned back to her friend, who was standing, glaring at the intruders.
"Watch out..." Colin yelled a warning too late. Boxes, canisters, and adults went flying in all directions. Colin landed and rolled, Tessa landed and swore, and the little girl collapsed like a rag doll.
"Lucy!" the other girl cried, and started to reach for her friend, but the sight of the oncoming Psi Cop was too much for her and she turned and fled.
"Go," called Tessa, rubbing a knee. "I'll..." Colin disappeared through the low opening. "...stay with her," she finished. She limped over to where Lucy lay, pale hair fanned out around her, one hand curled up by her cheek as if she were simply napping. With a sigh the Director of Covert Intelligence sank down beside the girl and put in a call to Medlab.
Meanwhile, Colin had followed the duct a short distance to where it opened out into a normal-sized chamber, then followed the retreating footsteps through more maze. Finally he came to a 'T' intersection -- and silence. Well, not silence, of course, there was always the subliminal throb of the air and water systems, power conduits, the lifeblood of the gigantic space station. But no running feet, no labored breathing...
Colin stood listening...it would be so easy. So easy to reach out, find that fleeing mind among all the others, determine where she was going...with an effort he pulled back behind his shields. You'd think he'd get used to it, he thought to himself, but he never did. How many times had mundanes with critical information slipped through his fingers, due to his refusal to use brute mental force? And how many times had only the letter of the law saved him from reprimands, demotion, and worse from superiors who paid it only lip service? To what degree was his assignment to Babylon 5 meant as an object lesson, to break him of his 'foolish' coddling of mundanes?
At that last thought (hardly a new one), he set his jaw and turned back, retracing his steps to the room where Tessa and the little teek waited. However deaf and silent, the girl was his own kind, and his prime concern. Tessa looked up as he hunched back in. The girl was still out cold.
"What happened?"
"I lost her."
"You....how could you *lose* her?" the Director asked, glaring at the telepath. Colin glared right back.
"I LOST her," he repeated through clenched teeth, and Halloran backed down.
****************
17:42 EST, 02/27/2263
Ambassador Cotto wandered aimlessly through the Green Sector corridors. The transport carrying the promised 'specialists', and his new attache, was scheduled to dock in a little over an hour, and he supposed he was as ready as he could be. He just wished he felt better about this whole thing -- more competent, more in control. Although even he could tell how much he'd grown, as a person and in his work, in the last few years, situations like this still made him want to tear out his crest in fistfuls and run around screaming.
He wondered if he should look up his wife -- well, technically Lyndisty was his wife, although that was apparently on indefinite hold while she played Lady Polana the Succourer with the unfortunates in Downbelow and he...played Ambassador.
No, she had her own troubles -- besides, while his horror at the person she had once been had faded as she 'rebuilt' herself with the aid of her Vendrizi symbiont, he still wasn't quite sure what to make of the new Lyndisty. One thing he'd noticed about Sheridan and Delenn -- aside from anything else, they always seemed, on some deep level, COMFORTABLE with each other, as if the most natural place for each was at the other's side. Vir felt many different things when he was around Lyndisty -- some of them mutually contradictory -- but comfortable wasn't on the list.
For the first time -- well, maybe closer to the fiftieth -- Vir considered the option that Londo had referred to that morning. It had been a joke, of course, but....no, he couldn't. Not possibly. He'd be MUCH too worried about what the other person was thinking to...accomplish anything. The very idea of someone being...ah, nice to him just because it was her job tied him all up in knots. (He looked both ways down the corridor before adjusting his coat discreetly.) Most men he knew -- of any Centaurioid species -- didn't seem to have that problem (at least, not to hear them talk about it), but he certainly did.
Maybe someday he'd have that kind of self-confidence, but not now. Besides, it wasn't sex he needed (well, no more than usual), but someone to talk to. Someone whose perspective he could trust, and, quite frankly, he didn't entirely trust Lyndisty's...yet.
Suddenly he knew the very person. With renewed vigor, he headed off toward the Garden. He had barely stepped out into the 'open', though, when a Security guard came running.
"Ambassador Cotto! You're needed in Customs. The Turhan arrived early, and there are some, ah, people looking for you!"
"Oh, my!" exclaimed the Ambassador. "I'll be right there. Tell them I'm coming, will you?" and he was off as fast as his short legs could carry him.
****************
17:47 EST, 02/27/2263
Ambassador Lethke Kullenbrok of Brakir was discussing trade imbalances with Ambassador Vizhak of the Drazi Freehold when a young draz approached, obviously anxious to speak to his superior. After finishing his paragraph, the Drazi Ambassador made his excuses and stepped away.
The Brakiri feigned interest in a nearby commboard -- amazing how the Drazi always seemed to forget how much more acute Brakiri hearing was than theirs. In addition, Vizhak probably wasn't even aware that Lethke understood not only Common and High Drazi, but also several of the local dialects -- including the one the young draz was using.
"Ktah Vizhak," the Brakiri heard, "We have tok for tournament! Huntleader Mokadi confiscate from First Colony freighter! But now, is problem with facility. You, Ktah, can help, yes?"
There followed a spate of hisses and snarls that even Lethke couldn't make out, although he did catch the word "Centauri" several times. Finally the Drazi Ambassador ran down and started issuing orders -- the young draz was to assemble the onstation Huntleaders at his quarters in one standard hour. Meanwhile he, Vizhak, would lodge a protest with the Captain.
"And if she does not listen?" the other draz asked.
"Then we make our protest...impossible to ignore," the older reptiloid replied, with an open-mouthed hiss. The younger bowed and ran off.
"Ah, friend Kullenbrok," the Ambassador resumed amiably. "Were speaking of kotch-fiber quotas, yes?" The Brakiri bowed, and smiled, and allowed as how an easement might be negotiable in the upcoming season. When the Drazi ambassador departed, though, the Brakiri's smile left with him. He hastened away in search of Captain Lochley or, failing her, Ambassador Sherann of Minbar. Hard-hit as the Brakiri had been by the Centauri raids, trade with them was still vital to the galactic economy. Lethke had no desire to see the rift between the Centauri Republic and the Interstellar Alliance widened, especially not as a result of Drazi hotheadedness. Besides, he liked Vir.
****************
18:03 EST, 02/27/2263
It was a good thing young Lucy was negligibly telepathic, otherwise the thoughts ricocheting around Medlab 4 would surely have kept her from the rest she so badly needed. Dr. Hobbs was reading Colin the riot act for driving the girl to overextend herself in one corner, while Zack Allan raked Tessa over the coals for ignoring procedures in his jurisdiction in the other.
"And why didn't your precious Psi Corps, that is supposed to help telepaths, make sure that orphans like Lucy were taken care of?"
"She's not a telepath..."
"Oh, so she doesn't matter?"
"That's not what I meant..." The Psi Cop obviously wasn't getting a word in edgewise any time soon.
"And when exactly, did it occur to you to link in for backup?"
"Mr. Allan, I am not in the habit of yelling for help every time I..."
"Every time you take off on an unauthorized investigation without even notifying your own people, let alone the Security force of this station..."
"Funny, I could have sworn the sign said 'Medlab' -- it sounds more like an ISA council meeting in here," a dry contralto cut across the contrapuntal lectures. They all shut up. The Captain walked in. She looked around, then leaned over the focus of all the commotion, peering at the little girl as if she were some sort of fascinating alien. The corners of Lochley's mouth tightened as she registered the light blonde hair, the innocent elfin features.
"Will she be all right?" she asked the doctor with surprising gentleness.
"Given rest, and a drastic reduction in the number of people terrorizing her, she'll be fine," Hobbs replied with a cutting look at the telepath.
"Then the question becomes, what do we *do* with her," Lochley mused.
Colin sighed. "I'll get someone out from Psi Corps to take her to Earth -- or Mars..."
"No!" exclaimed Tessa. Zack hesitated, then closed his mouth. Dr. Hobbs watched the Captain.
"But...you helped me catch her," Colin said almost plaintively.
"As I recall, you were following me," the cold-eyed woman pointed out. "We never discussed strategy, it was a purely tactical situation."
"Oh, so you were just using me for your own ends..."
"You two can discuss your relationship later," the Captain cut in. "Right now I want to know what my options are."
"She's not going anywhere until I say she's fit," offered Dr. Hobbs.
"She's facing a charge of theft..." suggested Zack.
"I've been researching the possibilities opened up by the new Alliance policy..." contributed Tessa.
"She belongs with Psi Corps," declared Colin.
Lochley looked around at all four of them. She wasn't happy with any of those solutions, but she didn't have a better one, either. Maybe she should call the President on this one...her back stiffened. She was Captain of this station, this was her problem and she'd handle it. But not without getting a second -- make that fifth -- opinion, she decided.
"Keep me informed of her condition, doctor," she said. "I'll let you -- and her -- know my decision when she's able to understand it. I daresay the rest of you have duties to attend to?"
"Yes, ma'am," Zack said smartly. The rest made their farewells and followed him out. Elizabeth Lochley lingered a moment, watching the girl sleep, then put in a call for Ambassador Sherann. The Minbari Ambassador was not in her quarters, nor in the Minbari diplomatic complex. Quickly checking in with C&C, she headed out to look for the Worker-Caste Ambassador. Somehow she felt that the Minbari woman's somewhat...unorthodox perspective might shed some light on this tangled situation.
****************
18:16 EST, 02/27/2263
After a rather disquieting conversation with Ambassador Kullenbrok, Ambassador Sherann of Minbar did some checking around, then headed for the Customs area, where the Turhan was reportedly offloading passengers from Centauri Prime.
She spotted Ambassador Cotto almost at once, facing down a swirl of Centauri, each expostulating more extravagantly than the next. Using her best Worker-Caste Minbari Unobtrusive Glide, she sidled over to loom behind the pudgy Ambassador. Arrayed against him were a group of four Centauri males of middle age and middle status, another stout male wearing an ornate tabard of some sort flanked by two plump ladies similarly adorned, and what looked like half a clan fronted -- literally -- by a dowager of dreadnought proportions. Darting about like a lost fighter ship, a gangly young gentleman seemed to be having trouble keeping track of which side he was on. Finally, to Sherann's amused admiration, the Ambassador himself was fighting a gallant holding action, parrying and riposting to each of three or four simultaneous complaints.
"I understand completely, Mr. Derani. Chef Allonsi, it will be seen to immediately. Lady Brettaria, the arrangements were....somewhat hurried, however..."
They were speaking Centauri, of course, but Sherann's linguistic abilities had formed a significant part of her qualifications for her position, and she had no trouble following, or contributing.
"Ambassador, may I be of assistance?" The bickering Centauri all stopped talking in mid-complaint. They looked -- up, except for the dowager and the frazzled young man -- at the alien woman in stunned surprise, whether at her command of their language or her imposing size and air of calm, controlled strength, she would hesitate to judge.
"Ambassador Sherann!" Cotto cried in unabashed relief, "I was just, um...excuse me, may I present Lady Brettaria, Daughter of Mostas, of House Plado, with her family, including her nephew, my new attache, Mr. Jaddo. Also Chef Allonsi, Mr. Derani and Mr.Born, of the Royal Court, with their...ah...assistants. Lady Brettaria, gentlemen, may I present Ambassador Sherann of the Minbari Federation." Sherann's bow was returned by the various Centauri with varying degrees of grace, save for Lady Brettaria, whose nose lifted, if anything, higher.
"And are you Warrior Caste or Religious, Madame Sherann?" she inquired haughtily.
"Neither, my lady," Sherann replied with a serene smile. "With the recent...adjustments in the Minbari government, it was deemed appropriate that one of the Worker Caste be assigned to Babylon 5 for the present. I have been given the honor of undertaking that assignment, and have found it quite rewarding, thus far."
"Hmph," the older lady decided. "If you are such an accomplished diplomat, then perhaps you can assist this sorry excuse for an Ambassador in seeing that suitable accommodations are provided for my House."
"And my household," interjected the Chef. "Mr. Cotto tells me that my wives -- my assistants -- have been housed with those....those profligate bean-counting flunkies..."
"Whereas half of MY family has not been housed at all!" Lady Brettaria reclaimed the floor.
"You see, the dispatches did not explain the situation...at least not in sufficient detail...I'm sure it was just an oversight..." Vir hurtled on.
"I see," mused Sherann. She turned to the imposing Centauri woman. "Allow me to invite you all to my quarters to discuss the situation in more comfort. We can put in a call to Resource Management from there, and I feel certain they will have this all sorted out in no time."
"My feeling exactly, Ambassador," Vir chimed in. "however, perhaps my quarters would be more appropriate...no offense..."
"None taken, Ambassador."
"I refuse to be crowded into some closet with all of these....riff-raff," protested Lady Brettaria, glaring down her nose at the representatives of the Royal Court. "Bad enough we had to share a starship with them for a day and a half!"
Sherann had an idea. "Ambassador Cotto, are Ambassador Mollari's quarters still available? I believe they are somewhat more spacious than yours..."
"Perfect!" Vir exclaimed, clutching at even this temporary resolution. "If you will all follow me...." Smiling to herself, Sherann brought up the end of a procession that proceeded to draw stares even from the cosmopolitan audience of Babylon 5.
***************** ACT FOUR *****************
18:45 EST, 02/28/2263
Having failed to locate Ambassador Sherann (who was, by then, babysitting Centauri in Londo's old quarters), Captain Lochley retreated to her quarters to think. And pace.
A birthday party and a lost little girl. Relatively minor crises, compared to what the station had seen, even under her brief command. No warships off the port bow, no blood on the walls -- yet.
It was the undercurrents that were really nasty on this one, she mused. It would be so easy to make a wrong decision and not even realize it until it jumped up to bite her in the butt later. John -- John had always had an instinct for this kind of thing, which she seemed to lack. Then again, his handling of Clark's ISN goons hadn't exactly been a shining example of said instinct! How in civilized space had he managed to let them get away with that?
Oddly heartened by Sheridan's slippage from his pedestal (and without letting herself get sidetracked into 20/20 hindsight on how she would have handled it), Lochley flopped into her lone easy chair and brought up Lucy's file on her datapad.
Parents originally from Earth, fled from Psi Corps together in their teens and took refuge on Kazomi 7, where Lucy was born. When the planet was threatened during the Shadow war they had left, and had bounced from planet to colony to station ever since. The father had been raised by Psi Corps, the mother brought in at puberty -- nothing unusual there. Lochley sighed, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.
The sound of a cleared throat brought her out of her chair and around --
"I wish you'd quit doing that!" she said, exasperated, as the portly hologram settled his virtual robes on her couch. Once up, she headed for the kitchenette -- not that Draal could partake of refreshment, even if she was of a mind to offer him any, but she could certainly use some! Drat, she was out of real coffee again. Time to put in another call to her contacts on Earth...
"I would have come to the door, but I'm afraid touchpads are beyond my capabilities -- for the moment, at least. Although Zathras has been tinkering with long-range tractor beams...."
"Please! The long arm of the law is one thing, but the long arm of Epsilon 3 I can do without. For the moment. So," Lochley continued, cradling a cup of instant...whatever you wanted to call it...and leaning on the counter, "to what do I owe the honor this time?"
"It is I who am honored, Captain. I simply found myself...at loose ends, so to speak, and wondered if you might enjoy some company. If not, I can simply..." the holographic Minbari began to fade.
"No, wait!" Draal became opaque again. "There is something you might be able to help me with -- if only by giving me someone impartial to bounce ideas off of." As she explained the situation, the Guardian's expression grew thoughtful, not to say concerned. He heaved a dramatic sigh as she described Vir's predicament.
"The Centauri are indeed a quandary. Mollari is...a complex man. There is much good in him, and yet....through the Machine I can sense a great darkness upon Centauri Prime, that I have not been able to penetrate. Perhaps it is simply the miasma left by the Shadows, and that poor, demented Emperor -- or perhaps...." he shook his head, reluctant to discuss his suppositions. "But for the people of Centauri Prime," he continued, "and their colonies, and even here, I believe this celebration could be a very good thing. It will remind them of what is bright, and cheerful, and full of hope as they struggle on their long, uphill road."
"I just hope Ambassador Cotto doesn't fall down and hurt himself on this one," the Captain put in. "I must admit I've kinda taken a liking to the guy."
"Ambassador Cotto is indeed an agreeable chap," Draal agreed. "And he is made of sterner stuff than it might appear. That man will end up surprising more than a few, when he comes into his own."
Lochley snorted. "You and your 'surprises'. Right now I've got a surprise on my hands that I don't know what to do with -- that little girl in Medlab. I can't send her back to Psi Corps -- I don't even want to think about what kind of...experiments they'd do on her...but she certainly doesn't have anything like the qualifications to seek citizenship with the Alliance, and who else would take her?"
"That is the question, Captain. I would offer, but I lack the facilities to care for a child -- somehow I cannot see the Zathras clan acting as nursemaids..."
Elizabeth smiled in spite of herself. "It would certainly make for an interesting adolescence! No, I'll have to find some other way....but what?"
"Does she have any family?"
"Her parents were killed, and their parents are on Earth -- no help there."
"Hmm. Let me take a look at her records, and I'll see what I can, as you Humans so picturesquely put it, dig up." With that, Draal extended a virtual hand over the datapad on the coffee table. There was a brief lightening of the air between -- nothing so crude as a flash -- and he nodded, satisfied. Lochley froze with her cup halfway to her mouth.
"What did you...did you just...."
"I downloaded her file, of course. And your local citizen's identification database. I already have a link to the main repository on Earth, I will just need to activate it...there. I'm afraid this may take quite a while to correlate completely, however."
Lochley put down the cup with a clatter and punched her link.
"Lochley to C&C. Did you just pick up any...unusual transmissions?"
"No, Captain," the watch officer replied. "It's all been quiet up here so far."
"Check again. If there was so much as a hiccup in the realtime backups or the auto-diagnostics, I want to know about it." There was a short silence, as the Minbari returned her glare with a look of polite, though somewhat distracted, inquiry.
"Nothing, Captain."
"Very well. Lochley out." Her eyes had never left the Guardian. "So you're telling me that...Machine of yours can hack into our systems -- into EARTH's systems, without us even realizing it?"
If Draal had had eyebrows, they would have lifted. "Is that a problem?"
"Is that a...." Lochley stopped, at a loss for words. She sighed, shook her head, and picked up her cup again. "It's a damn good thing you're on our side, Draal."
"Of what?"
"Don't start. Seriously, though, as if I didn't have enough to keep me awake nights, what if some....inimical entity were to gain control of the Machine? What's to keep someone from just...taking your place and wreaking havoc on the whole neighborhood?"
"You mean, aside from the planet's not-inconsiderable arsenal, the Zathras siblings and their colleagues, and the Machine's internal sensors and security systems?"
"Yeah, aside from all that! No offense, but there's no such thing as a security system that can't be breached. Even Zack would have to back me up on that -- as a matter of fact, if he knew about this, he'd probably insist on 24-hour-a-day guards....and I'm not sure that's not a good idea."
"In Valen's name, Captain, you wouldn't do that to me -- or to them! In fact, you couldn't, unless I permitted it, which I most certainly would NOT.
"But rest easy, Elizabeth. Even if I were to be...superseded, the Machine itself has, over the centuries, developed its own standards for Guardianship. A conscience, you might say. Were a being of an unscrupulous or....inimical nature to attempt the interface, the results would be most," he hesitated, "....unpleasant. Believe me, Captain, the Machine's capabilities will continue to be an asset for this station, not a liability."
"I hope so. So far we've needed all the assets we could get, and I don't see that changing any time soon. Just....warn me next time, will you?"
"Agreed. And now," the Guardian rose, "I shall take my leave of you, and continue to pursue this....fascinating analysis. This is precisely the type of diversion I had in mind -- I will let you know if I come up with anything useful."
"I'd appreciate it," the Captain replied, to empty air.
****************
10:25 EST, 03/01/2263
The Ambassador of the Centauri Republic was leading the Ambassador of the Minbari Federation down the garden path.
"I wanted to thank you for your help yesterday," Vir began, "but I realized that a simple 'thank you' wouldn't do it, and buying something seemed...cheap, somehow. So I thought, and I thought, and over breakfast I came up with the perfect thing. This way..."
"I am...what is your word? Agog with curiosity!" They were speaking Centauri again, of course. Somehow, after yesterday's ordeal with the 'specialists' and the Jaddo clan, they had slipped into doing so when there were no Humans or other aliens around -- Sherann had found that it made people more comfortable to converse in their own languages, and it was good practice for her.
At last they rounded a hedge to face an impressive greenhouse complex, stretching far enough into the distance to show a distinct upward curve. Each section had its own lighting, temperature and humidity controls, and sophisticated trace element infusers for both air and water, to simulate different seasonal conditions on many different worlds. Vir led the tall Minbari woman down a long central corridor, explaining as he went.
"I wanted to prove to you that not all of all of our people are as....difficult as the ones we had to deal with yesterday, so I thought I would introduce you to one of my very best friends on the station....Ari?" he called. "Ari, are you here? He's usually around here somewhere..."
They passed several chambers, some inhabited by horticultural workers, but apparently none the man Vir was looking for. A cold, dry draft issued from one long room, filled with ripening upland fhel grain edged with hardy windflower. The two Minbari working there bowed politely to Ambassador Sherann, who bowed politely back as she passed.
Vir stopped, and opened a fogged glastic door into a steamy jungle chamber.
"Ari? Are you in here? It's Vir Cotto, with a friend."
"Back here!" came a faint reply, also in Centauri. Grinning in triumph, Ambassador Cotto led the way through lush, overhanging growth. Sherann ducked under a flowering vine that barely skimmed the Centauri Ambassador's hair crest, wondering what practical use this particularly....opulent collection of vegetation served. She was well aware that growing space on the station was strictly regulated -- the plants in the great Garden provided not only a living air-recycling system, but fresh fruits and vegetables, and even some staples like the fhel, for those inhabitants who could afford them. There was some provision for purely decorative or medicinal species, but the whole enterprise was closely monitored by Resource Management.
They came to the very end of the room, where a grey-crested Centauri hovered over a cluttered work-table. He looked up, reluctantly tearing his attention away from a dark-red potted bush.
"Ambassador! I was afraid you would not have time to visit. My daughter was telling me something about a celebration....?"
"Ah, yes -- in five days, an observance of the Emperor's Ascension Day. All Centauri on the station are invited..."
The older man snorted. "That Mollari always was one to give himself airs. I suppose now he thinks he has the right to get everyone else involved, too. However, some of us have work to do!" With that, he ducked down to fetch a heavy bag from a low shelf with a grunt. Vir stood speechless while Ambassador Sherann quickly crouched to help.
"My thanks, young lady. And you would be?"
Vir found his tongue, and his manners. "Oh, ah, Ambassador Sherann, may I present Ari Tefano, hereditary gardener to the Royal Court..." The grizzled Centauri snorted again. "...now on the Horticultural Staff of Babylon 5. Ari, this is Ambassador Sherann. Of Minbar," he added.
"I can see that. Worker Caste?" Sherann smiled and bowed. "About time. Nothing against Delenn, mind you. Lovely girl -- if a bit impulsive at times. But it's good to see SOMEBODY around this Galaxy giving due regard to the people who get the real work done. Unlike some species I could name, including, unfortunately, my own." With that, he commenced rummaging around on the worktable, muttering under his breath.
"He is sometimes a bit...eccentric," Vir murmured apologetically. Tefano caught it and looked up.
"Shouldn't you be off somewhere organizing this...shindig?" he asked pointedly.
"Oh, there are experts from the Court attending to that," Vir replied airily. "In fact..." He went on to describe the arrival of said experts, and Sherann's role in getting them, and the Jaddo clan, settled in.
Once the newcomers had been ensconced in former Ambassador Mollari's elegantly-furnished (if rather dusty) sitting room, the Minbari Ambassador had put a call through to the Resource Management secretary, who had forwarded it to Ms. Satamba. She had joined them forthwith, and the three station residents had embarked on the thorny task of achieving a suitable resolution to the housing problem.
Obviously, Mesdames Allonsi could not be housed with Messrs. Derani and Born's assistants. With some spirited negotiation, the Publicity and Events specialists agreed to share the room assigned to their flunkies, while the caterer and his wives were assigned to the smaller, but more private C-sized quarters.
"Would that be Hagen Allonsi? He always was a stuffy one -- when we were boys he was the one who could always be counted upon to carry tales to the proctors. Good cook, though," Tefano admitted.
The Jaddos had presented a much trickier problem. When Lord Urza Jaddo had been condemned for treason in 2259, he had come to the station to beg the aid of his old friend, Londo Mollari. Mollari, caught in the very beginnings of a web of political intrigue that was only to grow darker and more tangled with time, was unable to help directly. In despair, Urza had challenged Londo to a duel to the death, which he had deliberately lost. By tradition, this had put his House -- his two sons, his younger brother Minz and his family, plus various cousins and hangers-on -- under the protection of House Mollari.
Minz had been in charge of the business end of House Jaddo, and it was an open question how much his thriving import/export concerns, alien contacts, and liberal views, coupled with Urza's impeccable reputation and longstanding friendship with Emperor Turhan, had contributed to the targetting of his House by the unscrupulous Lord Refa. At any rate, the death of Lord Urza resulted in what was effectively a merger of Minz' business interests with those of House Mollari. In the turmoil of those portentous years, Londo had not taken the time to meet with Minz personally, but had consulted with him via Stellarcom and allowed him a free rein with the company, even shifting some of House Mollari's managerial duties to him -- earning Jaddo the enmity of various Mollari cousins. In addition, Londo had required the Jaddos to remove from their own residence to the Mollari estate outside the capital, where they were in due course joined by the widowed Lady Brettaria, sister to Minz' wife Udrun. The children of Udrun and Minz, Volga and his two sisters, had been in their teens at the time, and had developed a hearty adolescent resentment of the high-handed, yet conveniently absent, Ambassador Mollari, which he had in turn most scrupulously ignored.
All this had been related to Sherann and Miriam Satamba over Earth tea (brivare being unsuited to the delicate constitutions of the ladies -- especially the Minbari Ambassador!). However, even the redoubtable Lady Brettaria had faltered over the next chapter, which had been told in hushed tones by Volga and his sister Aliov.
When the Narn and Drazi ships had broken away from the main Alliance fleet, to bombard the cities of Centauri Prime, the estates of House Mollari had, ironically enough, been among the hardest hit. Minz himself, both of Urza's promising sons, and a number of other family members had been killed outright or succumbed to wounds received in the attack, leaving the House leaderless and devastated. Lady Brettaria, never one to be self-effacing, had stepped into the breach and held the family together during the next few months, while the head of House Mollari ascended the throne, seemingly oblivious to those who should have had first call on his attention. When, at last, the new Emperor had deigned to turn his attention to his family responsibilities, summoning his cousins to the Royal Court and leaving the ruined estate in the hands of the construction crews, Brettaria and Udrun had naturally expected to join them there.
To their dismay, however, they found themselves instead packed up like so much old luggage (by this point, Lady Brettaria had recovered herself enough to take up the narrative once more), and sent off to this benighted space station, where their only support was to be young Volga's position as attache to the new ambassador. At this point, Brettaria had directed a fulminating glance at the Emperor's portrait -- Vir had been sorely tempted to hustle the inoffensive artwork out of the room lest it burst into flames before their eyes!
(As a side note -- apparently, when the Emperor had received word of Lady Brettaria's less-than-appreciative reaction to her nephew's appointment, he had been heard to observe that he had never cared for the opinions of such people in the past, and he now rejoiced to be in a position to disregard them utterly.)
So they found themselves, two ladies of a certain age, two young ladies of impeccable breeding, Volga and his bride, and three male cousins, one a widower with baby in tow, cast upon the mercy of Ambassador Cotto, and apparently to be shoved cheek-by-jowl into quarters intended for less than half their number!
Ms. Satamba hastened to assure them that, although the station was chronically strapped for space, eventually the clan would be settled quite comfortably, as soon as something opened up. However, for the time being, there might be some...forebearance required of the ladies and the gentleman cousins. At this point, Lady Brettaria sniffed and looked around the room.
"I take it His Majesty's former quarters are currently unoccupied? These rooms would be...adequate for myself and Lady Udrun, I believe."
"No! That is, I mean..." Vir floundered, appalled, "I...I was just about to move in here myself, when all this Ascension Day business came up, you see..." he rushed on.
Miriam Satamba cut him a look, and added, "Indeed, we were discussing the matter just yesterday. However, that will leave Mr. Cotto's quarters vacant -- they are slightly smaller, but just as...comfortably furnished, and should suit you ladies admirably. If Mr. Jaddo and Mistress Prythia could bear to share their quarters with his sisters for a few days, I am certain that I can come up with accomodations for the gentlemen...and, of course, the baby. And if you need any help with her, Mr....Senizzi, was it? I know of an excellent childcare reference service..."
And thus, to everyone's relief, the issue was at least temporarily resolved. Tefano chuckled appreciatively as Vir concluded the tale. As he was about to comment, a familiar figure stepped out of the foliage.
"There you are, Ambassador -- I've been looking all over for you. Both of you, actually," the Captain amended. "This...rather odd young man answered your Babcom unit, Mr. Cotto, and said I might find you at the greenhouse complex. Then there were these two Minbari....I'm sorry, you must be Mr. Tefano. I'm Captain Lochley -- I don't believe we've met."
Tefano hastily wiped his soil-speckled hand on his trousers and shook hers, Earth-style.
"It is indeed a pleasure, Captain," the gardener replied in faultless English. "What I have heard of your command so far has been...almost exclusively complimentary."
Lochley acknowledged the man's scrupulous honesty with a wry smile. "Well, it hasn't been easy, but I think I'm getting the hang of things."
"It never is, Captain, it never is. But where are my manners? Here I am, chatting with two Ambassadors and a Captain in these....intemperate surroundings, with never a hint of a cool drink. Jaida!" he called loudly, with no response. "Ah, where has that girl gotten to? If you will excuse me...." and he hastened off into the jungle.
After an exchange of bemused looks, the Captain and the Ambassadors took the opportunity to fill each other in on recent developments. Vir reported on the progress of the party preparations -- the Event Coordinator and caterers had been sent off to look over the Recreation Center facilities that morning, and the Public Relations specialist was consulting with the local ISN office even as they spoke. Vir was indeed concerned about Sherann's report of Lethke's report of the potential Drazi problem -- his own discussion with Ambassador Vizhak had been disappointing, to say the least. Captain Lochley had been firm with the Drazi, and promised that station security would be out in force to prevent any...untoward incidents, but she, too, was concerned.
Both Sherann and Vir declared themselves at a loss to provide any insight to Lochley's problem with Lucy, however. There was a short silence in contemplation of this, broken when Sherann wondered where Tefano might have gone.
Curious, they set off after him, wending their way among the troughs, tables, and planters to a small side-door that stood suspiciously ajar. This led to another tropical chamber, and thence to another. From the one beyond that, the raised voice of the gardener could be heard, answered by two much lighter voices -- the three seekers hurried onward.
As they stepped into the last room, its inhabitants fell silent, two of them staring in horror at the Captain. They were both young, perhaps eleven standard, both female -- one Human with night-black, tumbled curls and the other a slighter, shaven-pated Centauri girl, presumably Tefano's missing daughter.
Behind them, on a wide work-table, stood a score of pots containing small-to-medium sized bushes in various stages of development -- with a start Lochley recognized perhaps half of them as coffee plants, several with berries almost ready for roasting! While she was far from conversant with the details of the horticultural plans of the station, she knew for an unfortunate fact that coffee was NOT on the list of approved crops!
She glared accusingly at Ari Tefano, who returned her look with helpless confusion.
****************
11:11 EST, 03/01/2263
"MISTER Allan. I must assume that, as head of Security, either you were AWARE of this situation, and, for whatever reason, neglected to bring it to my attention, or that you were UNAWARE of it, in which case I may need to re-examine your fitness for your position!"
Zack stood at rigid attention, completely at a loss for words. Beyond him, the two young culprits huddled on the sofa, while Ari Tefano and Ambassador Cotto hovered behind them. Lieutenant Corwin stood by the door, trying very hard to be invisible.
Lochley took another turn around her office. On the desk, arrayed like some elaborate funeral arrangement -- or, possibly, a criminal lineup -- stood eleven pots of coffee bushes, and eight of tea. The Captain hesitated, fingering a berry-laden branch, and sighed heavily.
"But where did they come from?" she asked, almost plaintively. "How did they even get on the station? Did you....import them somehow? Smuggle them onstation? Zack, DID you know about them?"
"Ah, well, I believe the original coffee plants were brought on board by, ah, someone who is no longer here, and, uh...."
"Propagated," supplied Corwin.
"Propagated," agreed the Security Chief. "I, ah, was not in a position to press the issue at the time, and, um...."
"You're telling me Mr. Garibaldi was an accomplice to this...irregularity?" She shook her head and paced to the other end of the desk. "So where did the tea plants come from?"
Zack and Corwin looked at each other.
"Wait a minute. Wait...just...a...minute. As I recall, Mr. Garibaldi is quite fond of tea, isn't he, Mr. Allan? Am I looking at the results of a conspiracy, here?"
"I'm sure the Commander never intended...." Corwin piped up, then stopped abruptly as he realized his slip.
"The Commander? Not Commander Sinclair?" Lochley registered the appalled looks of the old-timers on the station, and figured it out. "Oh." She sighed again. "Her. Did Sheridan know?"
"I'm not sure," Zack admitted, "but I think so. You gotta realize, Captain, things were so topsy-turvy back then...."
"Oh, put a sock in it, Zack," Lochley said, disgusted. "Things are ALWAYS topsy-turvy around here. That doesn't make it all right for the Command Staff to go around flouting regulations like a bunch of space-happy cadets." She paused, turning back to look over the laden desk. "So, let me get this straight. Commander Ivanova was growing illicit crops using station resources, with the complicity of the Chief of Security AND her commanding officer. When she left, the contraband was handed over to said EX-Chief of Security -- by that time a civilian with no official standing whatsoever -- who not only continued this illegal activity but actually added to it, and persuaded these minor children to...do his dirty work for him!" She snorted. "WHY does none of this surprise me?"
"Oh, it was no trouble, Captain," the Centauri girl broke in.
"And we were paid quite fairly," the other girl added conscientiously. "It was a lot better than some jobs we could have gotten, and safer, too!"
"My daughter does not need to earn extra money!" Ari Tefano exclaimed hotly.
"It wasn't the money, Father, it was the challenge!" protested Jaida. "You should have seen the poor things when Mr. Garibaldi turned them over to us! And I'm afraid it was my idea to start up the tea seedlings, although Mr. Garibaldi did get them through Customs for us...."
"Quite a little business you had going there, huh?" Lochley observed. "Who were you supplying, anyway, now that..." she practically spat the name, "Mr. Garibaldi has gone on to bigger and better things?"
The two girls, realizing that they had said too much already, were stubbornly silent. Captain Lochley sighed yet again.
"Captain," Tefano spoke up, "I can assure you that this will be taken care of. I will keep a strict eye on Jaida to be sure nothing like this ever occurs again. Furthermore, I will speak with Ms. Livingston, Selene's sister, and of course the plants will be destroyed immediately..."
Something flickered involuntarily in the Captain's eyes. "Destroyed. I...see. Yes. Of course. I suppose..." she looked back, one hand reaching out as if of its own accord to brush a vibrant leaf...she took a deep breath and set her jaw. "Lieutenant. Have these plants taken back to the greenhouse. Mr. Tefano, I would like you to take care of them until I can determine the proper course of action, in consultation with Resource Management. Destroying them...would be premature. Do I make myself clear?" she glared at the older man as if daring him to comment.
He bowed respectfully to hide the twinkle in his own eye. "Perfectly, Captain."
"Ms. Tefano, Ms. O'Hara, you will be informed of my decision regarding any...sanctions resulting from this matter. I'd suggest you make a serious effort to keep out of trouble until then. Understood?"
"Understood," echoed the young Human.
"Yes, Ma'am," replied the Centauri girl.
"Dismissed." They all filed out, leaving the Captain's desk, for the moment, covered in greenery. She shook her head, allowing herself a rueful grin once they were all gone, then circled the desk to take her seat.
"Lochley to C&C. Put me through to Ms. Satamba in Resource..."
There was a shimmer at the edge of her peripheral vision.
"Never mind, I'll try later," she said quickly. "Now what?!"
"Captain," the holographic Guardian announced smugly, "I believe I have found what you are looking for!"
***************** ACT FIVE *****************
10:32 EST, 03/05/2263
Sometimes Elizabeth Lochley felt as though she lived in her office. If it wasn't one meeting, it was another -- but at least this one was more cheerful than most. Facing her on the couch were two Humans and a Minbari, with the standing Psi Cop's dark uniform the only reminder of less-benevolent influences in the room. Oddly enough, even Colin seemed relatively pleased with the way things had worked out.
"More tea, Ms. Beldon?" Lochley asked.
"Thank you, Captain," the young Eurasian woman replied. "That's one thing we can't seem to get on Minbar -- orange pekoe tea. Not that there's anything wrong with Minbari tea," she hastened to assure Ambassador Sherann, "and the Human communities on Minbar have managed to grow several Earth varieties, but not that one."
They had already gone through the main business of the meeting -- formally transferring guardianship of young Lucy to her newfound cousin who, thanks to the sponsorship of Commander Sinclair and Ambassador Delenn, had been granted Minbari citizenship almost five years ago. Since then, Alisa Beldon had trained and worked with the Minbari telepath guild, serving the Grey Council and liaising with the Human Psi Corps when necessary. Captain Lochley had made the official request through Earthforce diplomatic channels, forwarded along with immigration approval from the Minbari government and personal, though unofficial, endorsements by President Sheridan and Entil'zha Delenn.
Finally, and somewhat surprisingly, Colin Ferris had also supported it, at some risk to his career. As he explained it, this way she would have both the benefit of family and the support and training of a well-founded telepath organization. In Psi Corps, as a non-telepathic child, she would suffer whether she was included with the others or isolated. Plus, it would strengthen ties between the Human and Minbari telepaths, which must certainly be considered a good thing. How well this logic would go over with Psi Corps headquarters was another question, but Alisa and Lucy both declared their heartfelt appreciation of his efforts.
At first glance one might not see the resemblance between the poised, somewhat Oriental-featured young woman in Minbari dress and the slight blonde child in a borrowed Human jumpsuit. But looking closer, something about the jawline and the set of the shoulders -- it was there, all right. And, more importantly, what was inside -- the rare, precarious talent that had caused them both so much grief within these walls. But now, like Alisa, Lucy would have a chance to be free.
"You say you actually discovered your abilities on this station?" the Captain asked.
"Yes -- in fact, my story was much like Lucy's. You see, I was only a child when my Aunt Marina -- Lucy's mother -- was taken away. I never even really knew what had happened to her, only that my favorite babysitter was gone. Then my mother died, and Father brought us here..." a shadow of painful memory crossed her face. Colin, unnoticed, finally took a seat, watching the young woman intently.
"He was ill, too, and....once I was on my own, I had no way to live except by stealing. The only work available was...not what I wanted to be doing, and I had no skills, no real education to speak of. When my talent woke, suddenly, the people here were all very kind -- Lt. Commander Ivanova, Ms. Winters, Commander Sinclair -- but it was still very frightening." She put a comforting arm around Lucy, who leaned close, her eyes flicking from Captain to Psi Cop and back.
"Do you think she will become a telepath, also?" Sherann inquired. The little girl shook her head emphatically.
"The tests I've done show her potential as minimal," Colin explained, "and what there is seems to be deeply blocked."
"It could still come out as she gets older, though," Alisa said, "My aunt and I both manifested somewhat after puberty, and she's nowhere near that! But her telekinetic abilities will need training, and there are a few people I know on Minbar who will be able to help with that."
"I've always been curious about Minbari telepaths," Colin admitted. "They have a guild, but as I understand it, they live and work alongside all three castes, not...segregated the way Human telepaths are?"
"Yes," replied Alisa, "tradition says that at one time there was talk of making telepaths a Fourth Caste, but it was decided not to..."
"One of the main...I believe the best way to put it is 'safety valves' of our caste system," Sherann explained, "is that individuals can change castes, to follow the calling of their hearts. With a telepath caste, that would not be possible, which would cause even more unrest and resentment than there is normally." Alisa shot her a look -- surprise at Sherann's unorthodox attitude, perhaps? Colin and Lochley exchanged glances, each repressing a smile.
"Besides," the tall Minbari woman continued, perfectly deadpan, "it would have thrown off our entire numbering system -- just imagine the expense of changing all those triangles into squares!"
Alisa laughed outright. "Satai Kats said I would like you, Ambassador, and, as usual, she was right!"
"Well," the Captain said, rising reluctantly. "I need to get about twelve tons of paperwork done before the end of this shift -- and then there's the Ascension Day celebration this evening. I trust you've all been invited?"
"Of course," the Minbari Ambassador replied.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," added Officer Ferris.
"Lucy and I will be going to the 'outside' festival with the Tefanos," Alisa said. "Ambassador Cotto invited me to the VIP affair, but..."
"She'll have more fun with us," piped up Lucy, her confidence rising as they headed for the door. "I told the Doctor and Ms. Halloran they could come with us, too -- they said they might meet us there. There's going to be fire-eaters and sword-dancing and clowns and jugglers -- Alisa made me promise not to show off and make the jugglers feel bad....'bye, Captain!"
Elizabeth waved at the little girl, then turned her attention to all that paperwork.
****************
18:45 EST, 03/05/2263
"This is Sophie Tenatta for Interstellar Network News, coming to you live from EarthDome with a special report on the Ascension Day celebrations honoring the new Emperor of the Centauri Republic, Londo Mollari."
The elegant brunette announcer went on to recap the meeting of the two races, and their mostly-amiable relations over the past century and a half. Behind her, an inset showed Proxima III, site of that historic meeting, then a slowly-rotating anatomical schematic of a Centauri male and female, quick shots of the Imperial Palace, a bucolic countryside, a teeming business district, and an elaborate theatrical performance (blessedly without sound). The image finally resolved into a portrait-style pic of the new Emperor, looking suspiciously as if a poker had been none-too-gently inserted into one of the spots previously marked by an indecipherable label.
After a brief (and carefully edited) overview of Mollari's family history and career, and the events leading to his rise to the throne only months earlier, Tenatta shifted to voiceover. The screen showed clips of the festivities that had taken place, were at that moment taking place, or were in preparation (allowing for planetary time differences) in the more heavily alien-populated Earth cities. A group of children waving brightly-streamered flower-wands ran laughing though the streets of New Delhi, the Humans only identifiable by their darker coloring. An address by President Luchenko of the Earth Alliance in Geneva was followed by a shot of a half-decorated banquet hall in Manhattan, where a banner proclaiming the traditional Ascension Day greeting was being hung by a mixed pair of workmen.
"Iliaddo Mollari, meniondis en ada brettansi," Sophie repeated with a creditable Centauri accent. "Or, to use the equivalent English phrase, 'Many Happy Returns of the Day'. We here on Earth wish the new Emperor all the best, and to show how the Centauri on their own world are celebrating, we take you now to Flynn Allen, reporting from the capital of Centauri Prime itself."
The image shifted to show a rangy man in his early thirties, with vid-friendly high cheekbones and laugh-crinkles framing piercing blue eyes, his sandy brown hair pulled back in an old-fashioned ponytail. Behind him, a crowd of merrymakers rolled like a heaving carpet of humanoidity to the feet of a massive redstone building, whose central focus seemed to be a high banner-draped balcony, now empty. The building itself was missing several of its crenellations, and one outstretched wing had been reduced to rubble while scaffolding covered the other, adventurous celebrants clinging to the catwalks like dark-crested, bright-plumaged birds.
"Thank you, Sophie. I'm standing here in the Algo ta Villonsi -- the old City Square of Centauri Prime's capital. The Emperor has just finished giving his address, speaking most eloquently of the need to come together in solidarity to rebuild after the recent... unpleasantness with the Interstellar Alliance. The crowd, already exuberant, as you can tell..." the roar of voices, punctuated by blatting horns and snapping firecrackers, came through clearly, "was most appreciative -- whether due to the speech itself or to the Imperial largesse of ale and cheap brivare, or both, I would hesitate to say.
"The festivities have been going on since morning, and promise to go on into the night. Across the city and across the planet there have been pageants, parades, and the uniquely Centauri 'fihonsa', or impromptu theatricals, where members of the audience take the parts of figures of legend. The planetary sunset curfew, which has been in effect since shortly after the bombing, has been suspended, and the work-day tomorrow officially begins at noon, so I'm sure these people will be partying up a storm tonight!"
Behind Flynn, the revelers had caught on to the fact that something out of the ordinary was going on. Various Centauri, both crested males and bald or ponytailed females, waved and mugged at the camera. A firecracker popped almost at Flynn's feet, and he jumped back, laughing. He turned and waved at the crowd, the floating camera slewing around to follow him. Most of the onlookers waved back, laughing and brandishing cups or flower-wands, but the camera caught a few scowls, and one old-timer spat ostentatiously on the paving-stones.
"Plodos! Eart'os!" the sensitive microphones picked out of the crowd's cries. "Moron plodosa!"
"Woops, now they're calling me a moron," Flynn quipped easily. "I guess it's time for me to sign off -- back to you, Sophie!" and the image returned to the ISN newsroom set.
The anchorwoman blinked, as if momentarily caught off guard, but recovered almost at once.
"Celebrations are also taking place on the Centauri colonies, allied worlds, and stations -- we take you now to a remote site with special historical significance for both Humans and Centauri. Xia, are you there?"
There was a burst of static, and the inset cleared to show a slight Oriental woman against a background of green fields liberally dotted with clumps of people. In the distance, the land seemed to slope *up* rather than extending to a skyline or horizon...
"Yes, Sophie -- this is Xia Tang reporting from the central section of Interstellar Alliance Station Babylon 5. Behind me, a large area of the inner surface of this huge rotating cylinder has been cordoned off, and many of the station's more than twenty thousand Centauri inhabitants have gathered to celebrate the Emperor's Ascension Day."
The camera panned around, and the reporter turned to stay in the foreground. Now the background showed a long, low building fronted in glastic, with the indistinct forms of colorfully-clad partyers inside.
"The Ambassadors of many of the alien governments have gathered along with the higher-ranking Centauri onstation inside this spacious facility for a glittering formal soiree -- let's join them now."
As the camera swerved to follow her, a large group of Drazi could be made out gathered outside the doors to the building. Several carried signs -- mostly in Drazi pictographs, but a few in English -- "Centauri Go Home!, "Raiders Die!", and, obscurely even for Drazi, "Let Us Play!".
As the newsteam approached the restive protesters, ISN prudently went to commercial.
****************
19:03 EST, 03/05/2263
Zack Allan listened with half an ear to his companion as he scanned the gym. Brightly-colored banners stretched across the walls, and the floor (what could be seen of it under a thousand or so feet) had been polished to a high gloss. The "evening" sunlight diffusing through the window-wall was supplemented by Centauri sconces rather than the usual neon strips, giving the room a rich, warm glow. Over five hundred people, mostly Centauri with a sprinkling of other races, swirled between the raised dais at one end of the room and the lavish buffet and bar at the other, washing up the bleachers like flocks of colorful tropical seabirds in nesting season.
Beside him, Dr. Hobbs shone like an exotic jewel in flowing plum and violet silk, her shoulder-length dark hair caught up in a matching net that glittered with beadwork. Her eyes glittered too as she chattered away, dissecting the celebrants' costumes with an aesthetic passion edged with clinical ruthlessness. Up on the dais, the Captain was chatting with Ambassador Cotto, in a formal version of his usual sedate browns, and an imposing Centauri woman in an eye-searing combination of puce and lime green.
Lochley's boxy, silver-grey dress tunic did nothing for her splendid figure or her coloring. For a moment Zack found himself wondering what color she WOULD look best in -- pink, maybe? Nah -- Earthforce blue-green suited her just fine, although a black-and-silver outfit like his wouldn't be bad on her, either.
Zack smiled as he caught sight of Director Halloran talking to Colin Ferris and Lieutenant Corwin at the other end of the room. Tall, cool, and elegant in a shimmering column of midnight blue, she had her silky blonde hair up in back, with a few artful tendrils framing her face -- the same way Lyta used to do it, sometimes. Almost without conscious volition, the Security Chief steered the doctor in that direction.
"Would you believe this is the first time I've actually worn this thing?" Corwin was saying as they approached, shifting uncomfortably in his charcoal-grey, Earthforce-style Army of Light dress tunic. Zack clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly.
"Don't worry, once you get that promotion, they'll give you a snazzy outfit like this one," he said, indicating the silver-edged overvest that made his own uniform 'formal'. Then he tugged at his collar. "Damn thing still itches, though."
Colin Ferris smiled smugly, looking suave and infuriatingly comfortable in a deep maroon smoking-jacket-type affair, his Psi Corps blacks laid aside for the moment. He seemed at ease, but Zack noticed lines of tension around his eyes -- even a P12's blocks must be hard to keep up in this crowd.
"Hey, have you heard from Psi Corps HQ yet on whether they're gonna nail your butt to the wall over that Thoreson business?" The Security Chief asked in the best imitation of camaraderie he could muster. The blond telepath smiled ruefully.
"Nothing yet," he admitted. "They're probably still trying to figure out what size nails to use. The fact that, as the officer on the scene, I was entirely within my rights to make that recommendation -- and to release the girl to her legally designated guardian -- should keep them from doing anything directly, but...."
Zack snorted. "Since when does Psi Corps do anything directly?" he asked rhetorically.
Colin shook his head. "There, you see. You people all look at Psi Corps as some kind of monolithic, inimical entity, when in truth it's neither..."
"Oh, come on," Zack cut in, "I've seen how you people operate!"
Colin's face lost all expression, turning grim and hard. "You cannot begin to imagine..." he gritted, before Tessa Halloran cut in.
"Now, boys, this is a party, remember? And right now I am much more interested in those little leaf-wrapped things over there than I am in politics."
The two men eyed each other coldly, before the Psi Cop turned and held out an arm to escort the Director to the buffet. Zack surprised himself with a twinge of something he refused to name as the two moved off, sleek and supple as a pair of golden cats.
Captain Lochley scanned the crowd from her elevated position on the dais, looking for some escape from the overbearing Lady Brettaria. In the last ten minutes she had been treated to a scathing appraisal of her station, an excruciating dissection of the ever-forebearing Ambassador Cotto, and an infuriating interrogation about her own family background and career. She found nothing at all surprising about the Emperor's decision to get the woman off the planet -- if she were Londo, she'd have relocated her, and her insipid sister, and her priggish nephew, to those dungeons G'Kar had so eloquently described. Only Lochley's affection for Vir, and respect for his determination to make this affair a success, had kept her from giving the baldheaded old bitch the tongue-lashing she so richly deserved.
There! Ambassador Sherann was just coming in, with Lethke. The Minbari Ambassador had taken the traditional Worker-Caste brown robes to a stunning extreme -- Lochley wondered suddenly if she had been seeing Delenn's tailor on the sly. An earth-brown satin overrobe accented a vibrant rust-colored underdress with high collar and wide sleeves, the whole edged and belted in gold. Gold even glinted off her bone crest -- some sort of powder? -- as the imposing woman sailed through the crowd towards the dais, the soberly-dressed Brakiri trailing in her wake.
Just as Lochley was about to greet them, though, her attention was arrested by another group of new arrivals -- as was that of everyone else in the room. A hush fell, and a corridor opened spontaneously from the double doors all the way to the dais, as a full half-century of leather-and-metal-clad Narns strode in.
The jingle and creak of their harness and the stomp of their heavy boots rang through the gym as Ambassador Ta'Lon led the phalanx to the foot of the platform. They arrayed themselves there while he ascended, to snap to attention before the assembled dignitaries. For once, Lady Brettaria found herself speechless. There was a gleam of unholy glee tempered with wariness in Captain Lochley's eyes, and something quite similar in Ta'Lon's. Vir, rising entirely above his usual diffidence, stepped forward firmly and addressed the Narn Ambassador.
"Welcome, Ambassador Ta'Lon, to our Imperial Ascension Day observance. We are most honored that you and your...friends...should join us, and hope that this is