BABYLON 5: THE VIRTUAL SIXTH SEASON
"THE PRICE OF FREEDOM"
Episode 7
The Criminal Element
Security Chief Zack Allan stared bleary-eyed into the mirror that hung from the wall of his quarters. His tired, worn face looked back at him, reminding him again of how little sleep he had been able to scrape together over the past couple of days. The captain had been pushing him hard to solve the month long investigation into the murder of one of the Drazi ambassador's aides, and he had a feeling she wasn't going to like his final report. Since the murder he had spent a considerable amount of his time trying to track down the killer, but all avenues of investigation had come up against a brick wall. No-one had seen everything and when he asked around in Down Below the usual rumour mongers and snitches had vanished... even before he had approached them. There was something sinister going on here, and he hated being kept in the dark about anything, especially when it related to illegal activity on his station. But, without any reliable witnesses to the murder the investigation was at a stand still.
Of course, he could always seek the assistance of Colin Ferris, or one of the other telepaths on the station, to help facilitate a witness's recollection. But, like his predecessor, Zack had no great love of telepaths, not to mention the legal problems such a move would have. So he was forced to rely on the tried and true methods used by law enforcement officials across the galaxy. Unfortunately, nothing he did seem to make much headway with the case and he was left with a dead body and a Captain who was expecting answers.
Sighing, Zack picked up a comb and ran it through his unruly hair in a futile attempt to restore some sort of order to his crumpled appearance. Finally he gave up and, after picking up the few thin sheets of paper that made up his report, he left his quarters, heading towards the mess hall. After a meal more inhaled that enjoyed, he walked out of the mess hall and along the corridors leading toward the front of the station, catching up with Captain Lochley just as she was about to pass through the door into C&C.
Spotting the papers clutched in Zack's hand, Lochley said, "I hope you have some good news for me, Chief."
Zack grimaced. "I'm afraid not, Captain," he replied. "We still haven't been able to track down the murderer."
"This just won't do, Chief," Lochley said angrily, almost snatching the report from Zack's hands. She quickly leafed through the pages, her frown growing deeper as she scanned each page. Finally she reached last page and looked up at Zack "This isn't much use to me, Chief. I have to meet with the Drazi ambassador in an hour to inform him on the progress of the investigation and all you can tell me is how his aide died. It's been nearly a month. You must have a suspect by now."
"Sorry, Captain," Zack replied apologetically. "No-one seems to be talking at the moment. I've checked all my usual sources, but they don't know anything more than what's already in that report."
Lochley thrust the report back into his hands and strode through the open pressure doors in C&C, ignoring the cheery greeting from Lieutenant David Corwin, the officer currently in charge of the station's command deck. Zack quickly scurried after her, following the Captain across the command deck to her tiny station off to one side of the main work area. "What am I going to tell the ambassador?" Lochley asked as she sat down, spinning her chair around to glare at Zack.
"The truth," Zack suggested. "Tell Vizhak that you don't know who was responsible for his aide's murder. We try to solve every murder that occurs on this station, but, as much as I hate to admit it, there are always one or two that slip through the cracks. That's what I told the ambassador a month ago during the initial investigation. It was true then, and it's still just as true now."
"Yes I know all about that, Mr. Allan," Lochley said grimly. "The ambassador spent nearly an hour in my office on Thursday, which was supposed to be my day off in case you've forgotten, complaining about your lack of compassion towards the suffering of his people. Right before he spent another hour complaining about how there was no justice for non-humans on Babylon 5. Eventually I had to tell him that I had another meeting to go to." She sighed, "unfortunately I made the mistake of promising to meet him again today, so I had hoped that you might have come up with something for me to show him this time. Preferably something that will make him go away and stop bothering me."
"I've spent the past two days scouring the station, rechecking all the initial leads, but it's the same as before. No-one wants to talk about it. Back when it happened, I had teams searching Down Below for a week looking for some sort of clue, but we came up with nothing." Zack frowned. "Anyway, why are the Drazi dragging this up again now? I thought even they would have forgotten about it by now."
Lochley shrugged. "Ambassador Vizhak said something about the Shadak sending a new aide to serve him. I got the impression he thought they weren't very happy about what had occurred to his previous aide. He muttered something about Kri Maru. Do you know what that means?"
Zack nodded thoughtfully. "It's a Drazi religion, one of the minor ones. They worship a god called Drubunka or something like that." Suddenly he laughed, drawing a few strange looks from the bridge crew. "So that's what this is all about," he said, a smile still on his face. "Vizhak doesn't care about what happened to his old aide. He is just upset they are sending him a priest."
"I don't see what that has to do with anything," Lochley said irritably.
"The Drazi have a warrior culture," Zack explained. "They have a history of great warrior leaders, stretching back nearly three thousand years. The Kri Maru are one of the new religions. They preach peaceful cooperation, which doesn't really fit in with the way most Drazi think. Sending an aide from the Kri Maru is probably some form of punishment for Vizhak, which would explain why he is so upset. He's probably afraid it will make him look weak in the eyes of the other races."
"How did you get to be such an expert on Drazi?" Lochley asked suspiciously.
"I've arrested enough of them," Zack said with a grim smile. "I had to learn a little about their culture after four years."
"Well, maybe you can go and speak to...."
Another voice cut off the rest of the sentence. "Captain," Corwin called out. "I think you should take a look at this."
"What is it?" Lochley barked, annoyed at being interrupted.
"I have a shuttle of unknown configuration asking for docking clearance," Corwin replied, unfazed by the Captain's irritable tone.
"What do you mean 'unknown configuration'?" Lochley asked, standing up and walking the short distance over to the main console to see what Corwin had found. Putting his rejected report down on the console near the captain's chair, Zack quickly followed after her.
"I mean that it doesn't match anything on our record. Neither the hull shape, nor the signature of its engines, is familiar. Although the computer does suggest that there are some similarities with Vorlon vessels. Not enough for a direct match though, so it could just be a coincidence."
"Vorlon?" Lochley exclaimed, leaning over the console to check the readings or herself. She hadn't been on Babylon 5 during the Shadow War, but after listening to the way the residents of the station spoke about the Vorlons, she found the idea that anything related to them turning up on her station as more than a little worrying. "Have you spoken to the shuttle's pilot?"
"Just once, about fifteen minutes ago" Corwin replied. "She asked for landing clearance, and I told her to stand by. I've also done a thorough scan of her vessel and it doesn't seem to have the normal ident transmitter. It is also lacking a docking computer, which means the pilot has to land manually instead of letting the station's computer guide it along the navigation beacon. It makes for a slightly trickier landing than normal, but not overly so. I was about to grant clearance, but I thought that seeing you were here, you might want to be informed first."
"Which one is it?" Lochley asked, staring out of the observation window at the scattered collection of transports and shuttles awaiting clearance to dock.
"The small black shuttle over near that star liner," Corwin replied, pointing out a tiny shape, almost invisible against the background of space.
"It looks too small to be a threat," Zack commented. "Something of that size could only hold one person, and maybe a little cargo if you were lucky, but nothing more."
Lochley stared at the shuttle for a couple of seconds, but she was more worried at the moment about her upcoming meeting with the Drazi ambassador than the shuttle. "Let it dock," she ordered. "Babylon 5 is supposed to be a free port, so we can hardly refuse the pilot entry. I don't see why you even needed to mention this to me."
"There is one minor detail of interest, Captain," Corwin said. "I spoke to the pilot a moment ago, and she said that there was only one passenger on board, herself. But when I did the scan, the sensors showed two life forms on the shuttle, one was human, or at least I think it is, there is some sort of distortion that the sensors are having trouble with. The other is something completely different entirely, and matches nothing we currently have on the database."
Lochley face brightened momentarily. "Do you think this is a first contact possibility?" she asked hopefully, already imagining a way out of her meeting with ambassador Vizhak.
"That is a possibility," Corwin agreed, although he didn't sound very convinced. "The pilot mentioned nothing about another passenger though, so if there is some new alien species on that shuttle, then either they don't want to talk to us, or don't want us to know about them."
"A smuggler then," Zack said, watching the shuttle slowly manoeuvre into position alongside the star liner. "I don't think some new race is going to send out a single tiny shuttle to make contact with us, especially one with a human pilot."
"Some sort of alien plant life then?" Lochley queried. "Something that won't survive the quarantine."
Zack shrugged. "It's happened before. You would be amazed by what some people try to bring onto the station. We've already got vermin from a dozen worlds crawling around the lower decks, but there is always someone who tries to sneak some new species past customs. I'd probably better go down and take a closer look...just in case."
Lochley frowned. "I was hoping that you would talk to Vizhak for me. I don't really want to waste another morning trying to explain why we haven't found the murderer yet."
"This could be important," Zack said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the shuttle. "We don't usually pick up readings like this on a smuggler's cargo without a close scan. So, this could be something big... not to mention dangerous."
Lochley still looked sceptical, realising that Zack was probably just trying to get out of having to present at the meeting with Vizhak, hell she wouldn't mind getting out of it herself. On the other hand, the sensor readings were suspicious and did require further investigation. "All right, Mr. Allan," she agreed finally. "However, I want a report on my desk by sixteen hundred, with a full explanation for this sensor reading," her finger tapped the screen which showed the reading in question.
"You'll have it," Zack promised, heading for the exit, moving a little quicker than was necessary in case the Captain changed her mind.
"What do you think, Lieutenant?" Lochley asked, as soon as the security chief had departed. "Do you think that shuttle's pilot is a smuggler... or was Mr. Allan just trying to get out of the meeting with Vizhak."
"Probably the later," Corwin admitted with a smile, before his face turned serious again as he noticed a new sensor report. "But he is right about one thing. There is something very strange about that shuttle. I've been working flight control for years now and I've never seen anything like it. I'm getting power readings of it that are unlike anything I've ever seen before, well for a vessel of that size anyway."
"Do you think Mr. Allan might need some assistance?" Lochley queried, peering over his shoulder at the information the computer had just compiled. "Not that I don't have every confidence in his abilities, of course." Then she frowned. "Are these right," she said, pointing to the latest sensor reading which gave the shuttle a power to mass ratio higher than anything she would have thought possible.
"There is some distortion," Corwin admitted. "The sensors are having trouble penetrating the material in the shuttle's hull. It appears to be made of an alloy that they haven't encountered before and there is some unusual electrical activity inside the outer hull that is distorting the few readings that the sensors can make."
"Can you clean up the distortion at all?"
"Not unless the shuttle moves closer...a lot closer," Corwin replied. "However, Mr. Allan will be in a better position to look into it. Not a lot gets past him, especially when it concerns station security."
"I agree, Lieutenant," Lochley nodded. Then she noticed the chronometer on the console and swore loudly. "Damn, I have to meet with the ambassador in ten minutes. Keep me informed if anything happens concerning that shuttle that I should know about."
Under Corwin's amused gaze, she hurried across the room to collect Zack's report, and then almost ran for the exit. Grateful that he only had to deal with irate freighter captains and not ambassadors and other dignitaries, Corwin turned back to the console and sent a message to the pilot of the shuttle. "Shuttle Vozak, you are cleared to dock in landing bay six. Please keep to your assigned vector and do not deviate from the landing beacon." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Welcome to Babylon 5."
****************
Inside a small, well-lit chamber buried in the interior of the shuttle, a white-robed figure sat cross legged on the barren deck, no sign of instrumentation or other controls in sight. The woman — for her gender was very plainly obvious to any observer — appeared deep in concentration. Her hands were steepled before her, almost as if she were praying, although the array of weapons and other equipment spread out before her were not the usual tools a priest or follower of most of the known religions — with the exception of a few of the more violent alien species. Instead she looked like a warrior preparing for battle, a holy soldier about to go to war against some evil enemy.
Then a soft voice whispered across the small chamber, interrupting her concentration. "There is a message, Mistress," it said in gentle tones, before replaying Corwin's last communication.
As the lieutenant's voice echoed around the barren chamber, the woman looked up, pulling back the hood of her robe to stare at the viewscreen in front of her. Impossibly pale eyes glinted with hidden energy as she scanned the information on the screen, tiny rows of alien script flowing quickly across it as the shuttle reported its findings on every little detail of the station, the other vessels waiting to dock, and even the sensors that were currently probing for information about the shuttle.
The woman smiled briefly, the report appearing to meet with her approval. Then she silently cancelled the display, the shuttle sensing her thoughts and deactivating its sensors. "Proceed slowly my friend," she said, speaking to the vessel as if it were alive. "Keep to their beacon, but be very careful. I have not come six hundred years and an unimagined distance to die now, not when the key to my goal is but hours away."
The shuttle gave no verbal response, but as soon as the woman had finished speaking the lights in the chamber dimmed as energy was transferred to the engines. Picking up speed, it moved out of the shadow of the huge star liner it had been parked next to and moved closer to Babylon 5, dwarfed by the gigantic space station as it followed the landing beacon towards the docking bays.
****************
Under Corwin's watchful gaze, the small shuttle left its holding position, gliding forward without even the slightest trace of emissions from manoeuvring thrusters. That certainly drew some attention from the pilots and bridge crews of other nearby vessels as they realised that the shuttle, despite its size, was equipped with gravimetric engines, a technology only the Minbari, the Centauri and a couple of other races were known to possess. To encounter a shuttle of unknown make possessing such technology was certainly something to comment on, if not something to note down for further investigations, although with new races being discovered every day, it was not an overly unusually occurrence. With much of the galaxy still unexplored, there always seemed to be something new waiting around the next star system and sooner or later you were bound to run into a race you hadn't encountered before, especially at a place like Babylon 5.
But, while the attention of most observers quickly turned back to more important matters — like trying to convince the station's flight controller that, due to some special circumstance, their vessel deserved to be shunted forward to the front of the docking queue — two sets of eyes continued to contemplate the shuttle's passage. In the spacious first-class lounge on the liner Lord Nelson, two men watched the shuttles passage from the viewing window, scrutinising the tiny shuttle closely as it moved towards the gaping maw of the docking bay.
Although their interest in the shuttle, and its pilot, had bought them together, there was little else akin between the two men. The taller of the two was Nicolai Luchenko, the nephew of the Earth Alliance's current president. A tall, ruggedly handsome man in his late twenties, he sat back in one of the well padded chairs and watched the shuttle with an expression of bored disinterest. He wore a plain, but elegantly tailored suit, and sipped a drink one of the thoughtful stewardesses had placed on a nearby table shortly after the liner's arrival in Babylon 5 space. In short, he portrayed the appearance he'd crafted with calculation, that of a calm and collected gentleman to whom space travel was a daily occurrence and nothing to get excited about.
But as his gaze followed the shuttle's path, he was anything but calm or collected. Inside he was almost bursting with excitement and anticipation, aware that the coming few days could spell either the end of a dream or the beginning of a new life, one free of human concerns. Placing his glass down on the round table near his chair, he stood and walked the short distance over to where his companion stood.
Unlike Nicolai, who somehow always managed to appear composed and at ease — no matter if he was meeting with friends of his Aunt's, dining in some alien king's banquet hall, or even up to his neck in mud on some IPX dig — Alex Kurmis looked nervous and ill at ease. The short, dark-haired man — who looked about forty, although he was actually younger than Nicolai — was pressed forward against the window, an almost rabid look of hatred in his dark eyes. He wore a dark suit that had obviously seen better days, and his hands were covered by a pair of black leather gloves, very similar to those worn by telepaths when around normals — although he lacked the Psi-Corps badge that would have placed his allegiance beyond doubt.
Nicolai stood beside him for a moment, watching the shuttle as it manoeuvred past a bulk freighter and began its approach to the main docking bay doors. "Is that her shuttle?" he asked finally, his voice holding only the slightest trace of a Russian accent.
Alex's eyes didn't leave the shuttle. "That's it," he confirmed, his voice harsh and obviously still carrying a fair amount of anger. "I can sense her foul presence from here. We have finally found her, and I will finally get my revenge for what she did to me."
After observing the emotions playing across the dark-haired telepath's face closely for several seconds, Nicolai cleared his throat. "I see," he began, a little nervously, always cautious about broaching this particular subject with the telepath. "Just don't forget who is financing this particular trip. Two first-class bunks on a ship like this don't come cheap, not to mention the small fortune I paid informants to watch out for her. If it wasn't for the fact that she was arriving here to meet with a Thrakallan acquaintance of mine, I wouldn't have been able to arrange this little get together at all. Just remember that I want something out of this venture as well. I haven't paid tens of thousands of credits just to help you get revenge for some minor incident."
"Minor!" Alex screamed angrily, turning on Nicolai. "It took them three months to dig that machine out of my mind and even now I can still feel the effects of what she did to me." Then his voice dropped away and turned back to the window. "Besides, this is not just about me. I do this for all telepaths, to end the threat this woman presents."
"Just remember..."
"You'll have your pound of flesh, or blood, or whatever it is you want, Luchenko. But, I want to see her suffer — to personally witness her death — only then will I know the threat she poses is ended and be free of the dreams that haunt my nights."
"I still think we would be better off contacting station security about this," Nicolai said softly. "We have enough on her to arrange an arrest warrant, and I'm sure Earthforce would back us up. There is no need to do things this way. We hold all the cards, we know who and what she is, we don't need to do it this way."
Alex looked at him for a moment. "That's not how the Corps works. We look after our own."
"But I thought Psi-Corps had forbidden..."
"We look after our own, Luchenko!" Alex snarled. "Just because those fools thought it was too dangerous to pursue her, doesn't mean that they didn't want me to." The telepath's gaze returned to the view outside, his dark eyes narrowing as he saw the shuttle was finally entered the station. "We look after our own," he said again, his voice almost a whisper now. "I don't care if I have to tear this place apart looking for her, I will have my revenge!"
****************** ACT ONE *****************
A cacophony of noise and colour greeted Zack as he walked into the cavernous chamber that served as both Babylon 5's general port of entry and embarkation, and contained all civilian entry and exit customs and security screening. The general hubbub of a thousand beings all trying to speak at once mixed in with the harsher sounds of the holographic advertisements and the deep background noise of heavy machinery from the docking bays. It all combined into a chaotic mix of sound that made it almost impossible to focus on one voice unless you were standing right next to the speaker. It wasn't always like this, but the recent arrival to two massive star liners, each capable of carrying thousands of passengers, meant that the number of new arrivals trying to squeeze through the overworked customs stations had increased ten fold. Add to that the normal influx of passengers from smaller transports, and the situation was barely under control.
Zack stopped near the exit, looking across the churning sea of human and alien faces and wondered how exactly he was supposed to find the pilot of the shuttle among this crowd. Then, he realised that it was likely that the shuttle hadn't even landed yet, so all he had to do was to get one of the technicians in the landing bay to meet the pilot and guide her to a terminal of his choosing. Of course, he could go and meet the pilot personally, but Zack didn't really fancy the idea of wading through the sea of passengers and then dodging careening cargo loaders and stressed dock workers on his way through the station's extremely busy docking bays.
A loud noise distracted his attention, somehow reaching his ear despite having to travel across the overcrowded room. Searching the room, Zack noticed an argument that had broken out at one of the terminals. Two security officers were trying to calm down an irate Centauri, a very important Centauri if the height of his hair and the elaborate designs woven into his clothing was anything to go by. Zack hadn't been informed of any visits by Centauri lords, or other high ranking officials, so whoever the Centauri was, he must be a civilian. That fact didn't make a lot of difference though, as most Centauri carried themselves as if they were the most important being in the universe.
Noticing that the situation looked like it could easily get out of control, and one of the security officers was a Narn, he decided that his presence was required. Quickly pushing his way through the crowded room, Zack hurried towards the young security officer in charge of the terminal. She looked more than a little relieved to see the Chief heading in her direction.
"What seems to be the problem here?" Zack asked, as he pushed his way past the last of the observers blocking his path.
"Are you in charge here?" the Centauri demanded, a gleam of anger flashing in his fiery dark eyes.
"I am head of security on this station," Zack replied calmly, hoping the Centauri would quiet down once he knew that his problem was being dealt with.
"Good, then you are in charge of these brutal thugs. I want... No, I demand that you call them off at once. I will not be pawed by foul-smelling aliens, especially that...that animal over there." The Centauri pointed to the Narn officer who, Zack was pleased to see, didn't react, holding his station next to the scanner with a stoic expression on his face. The Centauri wasn't finished though. He turned back to Zack and did his best to look imposing and important, puffing out his chest and straightening his back. "I demand you permit me entrance at once," he said, using an almost regal tone.
Zack turned to the human officer. "Perhaps you can tell me what the problem is, Aldred," Zack asked, reading the woman's surname off her uniform.
"He won't submit to a search, Sir," the officer explained hurriedly. She was obviously self-conscious of the attention the argument was receiving from the other passengers collected nearby, as her face had flushed red with embarrassment. "The scan picked up a possible weapons violation, but he wouldn't submit to a search when we asked. Regulations state that all positive scans must be checked out."
Zack turned back to the Centauri, who looked even angrier than before. "I am Guildmaster Aragon Pernimi," he announced haughtily. "I do not need to submit to having my person searched by inferior life forms. I demand to speak to the Centauri ambassador at once! I believe he is that fat fool that the Emperor has to have taken a liking to... don't ask me why. Bring him to me, or I will file an official complaint with your superiors."
"I'm sure we can work this out without involving the ambassador," Zack said calmly, trying to avoid a scene, especially when he knew Captain Lochley would probably hear about it. The argument had already attracted several spectators though and, among those gathered to watch, were several Centauri who stared at Pernimi as if they were fearful of him. Zack filed that little tidbit of information away for later reference and turned back to Pernimi. "If you will just allow my officers to examine your..."
"I don't have any weapons!" the Guildmaster almost shouted. "I have been trying to tell these fools that for the past ten minutes, but they won't believe me." Then he spun around and glared fiercely at the gathered spectators. As the Centauri in the crowd vanished before his gaze could fall on them, he smiled evilly. "I have no need of weapons," he added, the smile still on his face.
"The custom station scanner picked up a weapons violations," Zack reminded him.
"Then your scanners are broken," Pernimi sneered. "Our superior Centauri scanners on Immolan did not pick up any phantom weapons, so yours must obviously be in error."
"Perhaps there is something on your person that is confusing the scanners," Zack suggested diplomatically.
"All I have is my money pouch, some jewelry and my guild insignia," Pernimi said, his anger beginning to fade a little. He reached inside his clothing and, with a flourish, pulled out from around his neck a large, dagger-shaped amulet. It was a delicate construction, heavily encrusted with jewels and gold filigree, and obviously totally worthless as a weapon...no matter how desperate its owner might be.
Zack looked at him in exasperation, realising the silver amulet was what had been confusing the scanners. The scanners weren't sophisticated enough to determine exactly what an object was. They would have registered the shape and composition of the amulet and then flagged it as a possible weapons violation. He looked over at Aldred, who ran the weapon's scanner over the Centauri's body again. "He's clean now, Sir," she reported.
"I apologise for the inconvenience," Zack said, deciding not to mention that if Pernimi had just shown the amulet to the security officers in the first place, this incident would have been over before it even began.
"You are lucky I do not report your behaviour," Pernimi said, as he passed through the terminal, looking down his long, hawk-like nose at Aldred. There was an expression of smug satisfaction on his face, as if he was pleased with himself about something. "Never in all my years has a member of the guild been treated so badly," he added, before pausing just as he was passing Zack and turning to stare at the Chief's face for a moment, a strangely intense expression on his face. Then he snorted, mumbled something about primitives, and strode off into the crowd.
"I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't expect him to get so upset," Aldred said, looking pensive, as if she expected to be reprimanded over the incident.
Zack recalled that the young woman was one of the newer recruits, having just joined his security force a month ago. If he remembered correctly she had come straight from Earth, so she obviously didn't have the experience with alien races that some of the longer serving members of security had. "It's not your fault," Zack said, with an encouraging smile on his face. "Some of the Centauri are like that. You'll get used to them after a while."
"I'll remember that, Sir," she said with a relieved smile.
"Just be thankful you don't have to deal with Londo Mollari," Zack added with a grin, before his face grew serious again. "Now, seeing that I'm already here, there is something you can do for me. Do you have any information on a shuttle that was given landing permission about fifteen minutes ago? I think it was sent to Bay 6."
Aldred looked over at the Narn officer, who scanned a readout on his console. "The shuttle has just landed," the Narn replied, in a deep, rumbling voice that was unusual even for a Narn. "The scanners report a single human life-form, who is just disembarking now."
Zack frowned. "The sensors in C&C picked up two life-forms. Are you sure of your readings."
"Positive, Sir. The scanner is registering only a single life-form." He hesitated for a second. "There is something peculiar about the ship's hull though, the scanners are reporting an unusually high level of organic material in the hull. That might have confused the sensors. Would you like to check for yourself, Sir?"
He stood aside so Zack could watch the monitor, which, along with the readouts from the sensors, was also displaying an image from one of the landing bay's cameras. Ignoring the readings for the moment, Zack watched as an average sized humanoid figure dressed in a hooded white robe emerge from beneath the shuttle, probably having just exited through some ramp or hatch that was hidden from view.
"Can you get one of the ground techs to direct the pilot to this terminal?" Zack asked. "I want to take a closer look at her belongings. Also, order a scanning team to do a proper scan up close. If there is anything they can detect in that shuttle that has even the slightest hint of illegality about it, I want to know."
The Narn nodded, and quickly sent the orders. A few seconds later a short man dressed in dark blue overalls appeared on the monitor, crossing quickly over to the shuttle. There he exchanged a few quick words with the robed figure, unfortunately not picked up by the camera, and then both headed towards the exit.
Zack nodded, pleased that everything seems to be running smoothly now. "All right," he said. "Back to work. I will take care of this one when she arrives. The Captain sent me down to deal with this, so give the pilot priority clearance and move her straight to the front of the line. I don't want to have to spend all day standing around here, not with the Captain breathing down my neck over that murder investigation."
The two security officers nodded quickly and went back to processing the long line of passengers waiting for admittance into the station. The line had grown considerably longer during the altercation with the pompous Centauri, and the two officers looked like they were going to have their work cut out for them over the next couple of hours. As they worked, Zack leaned back against a nearby wall and waited for the pilot to arrive.
A scraping sound close behind him drew Zack attention away from the customs terminal. Turning around, he found a large, six-foot tall insect standing almost directly behind him, the alien busy observing a holographic advertisement displaying the incredible, mind-boggling wonders of the jungle world of Vega III. Zack recognised the being as a Thrakallan, a species whose entire existence appeared, to outsiders at least, to be devoted solely to criminal activities. Of course, on their world it was just a way of life, but when they moved out among the other races, fortunately a very rare occurrence, then trouble always seemed to follow them wherever they went. Zack could still remember the former security chief, Michael Garibaldi, spending hours complaining about the activities of a Thrakallan known as n'Grath. He had been the bane of Garibaldi's existence for several years before his strange disappearance around two years ago, an event that was still remarked on among the leading lights of Babylon 5's underworld community.
The trouble with the Thrakallans was that they were so incredibly good at what they did. Despite hardly ever leaving their home world, the gas giant Beta Lyrae II, they had managed to build up the reputation of their crime syndicates until they were now second only to the infamous multi-species organisation known as the Guild of Thieves. Unlike the more common criminals, the Thrakallans didn't stoop to the level of pickpockets and common muggers. They were lords of crime, ruling over their syndicates from gigantic floating cities — rumoured to be have been created in the distant past by the same race responsible for building jumpgates across the galaxy — that drifted gently through the atmosphere of their home world. They sent others to do their dirty work, usually the frog-like Bilubi, a low tech species from one of Beta Lyrae's moons.
Zack hadn't had much to do with the Thrakallans himself, but had been keeping a close eye on this particular specimen since he first came on board about a month ago. The name it had given on entry to the station was j'Nialth, and so far all the Thrakallan had done was set up shop as a jeweller in the Zocalo, running a small stall dealing in antique jewellery and gemstones from a hundred worlds. The shop had gained some popularity with the richer residents of the station, those able to afford the lofty price tags of j'Nialth's wares, but Zack suspected that it was only a cover for less legitimate activity. He had no proof of this, but he had a feeling deep in his gut that the Thrakallan was up to something illegal.
Spotting Zack watching him, j'Nialth turned to inspect his observer. He chittered something in his native tongue, which his advanced translator spat out as, "Greetings, Security Chief Zack Allan."
"Hello j'Nialth, are you waiting for someone?" Zack said, noticing that the translator used a voice that sounded like an announcer at a sporting event, instead of the more normal, calm, even tones. Someone had obviously messed up the settings. He also noticed that the translator also doubled as a breather mask, making it possible for the Thrakallan to walk around outside his normal methane atmosphere.
"You are waiting also?" j'Nialth inquired, declining to answer Zack's query. He glanced across at the long queue of beings waiting to pass through customs, his multifaceted eyes flickered in the light from the garish advertisements lighting up in a rainbow of colours.
"I am," Zack confirmed. "But I asked if you were."
"I am watching," j'Nialth replied, pointing one claw towards the hologram of the Vega colony. "I am considering a holiday. Business has been good and this system looks warm and peaceful."
Zack looked at the hologram for a second. "That's Vega III," he said. "The gravity there is three times what it is on Earth. Then there's wildlife. I have heard that there are some creatures on that world that will tear the heads off anyone who comes near them. I don't know what they do with your head after they've removed it from your body, but it's not a nice place to visit, despite what the ad says."
"I will look further," j'Nialth said, taking a moment to glance out across the crowded room, his head swivelling from side to side as he scanned the rows of passengers.
Zack could see he was probably waiting for someone, but his curiosity about who, or what, the Thrakallan was waiting for had to be put on hold when Aldred called out to him. Walking over to see what the customs officers wanted, he found himself staring at the figure he had seen walking off the shuttle. Somewhere along her journey through the landing bay she had pulled back the hood of her robe, and Zack found himself captivated by the woman's beautiful, if somewhat pale features.
She wasn't a tall woman, perhaps just as tall as the Captain, but lacking Lochley's more shapely figure. But, in a strange, exotic way, she was far more attractive than most women could ever hope to be. Her pale shoulder-length hair resembled finely woven strands of gleaming sunlight instead of mere human hair. Although it lacked any real colour, there was a hint of gold about it, just enough to make it shine brilliantly in the glare from the ceiling lights. Her skin was also pale, but it wasn't a sickly pale, but rather the smooth creaminess of perfection, lacking any flaws or blemishes. But, it was her eyes that Zack noticed most of all. They were pale like the rest of her features, the iris' almost colourless, with just a hint of blue. There was something else in them though, a hidden power, something both ancient and young. Zack sensed a presence about her, something intangible that seemed to cling to her, an almost ageless quality that was impossible to define properly. Whatever it was, Zack found it incredibly attractive, and found himself unable to take his eyes off the woman as she walked past the line of passengers and up to the terminal.
It appeared that she had noticed him also, because as Zack stared at her, the woman returned his gaze with a look of curiosity and just a faint hint of amusement. Finally, after standing there for nearly a minute waiting for Zack to say something, she decided to speak up instead. "You are waiting for something?" she asked, looking expectantly at Zack. Like her features, her voice was soft, almost musical. There was also more than a hint of an accent, although Zack couldn't quite identify where exactly she had picked it up.
Caught out, Zack blinked, and then quickly straightened his uniform and did his best to look like he hadn't been staring. "Sorry," he said. "You are not what I expected."
"I rarely am," she said, a half smile lighting up her face. Then she regarded Zack with a curious expression. "I did not know that I was expected though," she said softly. "My visit here was not planned."
"I though you were... I mean, the captain thought..." Zack paused. "Actually, I'd like to ask you a few questions. I'm Zack Allan, chief of station security, and there were a couple of details about your vessel that raised some questions. The fact that it doesn't have any I.D. transmitters or markings for example."
The woman raised an eyebrow when Zack mention his name and rank and her interest suddenly seemed more intense. "I see," she said, as soon as Zack had finished speaking. "I should have expected that, I guess. I had to abandon my usual starship at a planet a few systems back and I have been forced to use this shuttle instead."
"Sorry to hear that," Zack said, taking her comment to mean that her vessel had crashed or been damaged in some way. He wondered where she had managed to find the shuttle then. Its hull was vaguely Vorlon in appearance, and he wondered if she was one of the explorers who had been trying to enter the now abandoned systems of the Vorlon empire. Earth had placed a ban on all civilian sponsored voyages last year after a near fatal expedition by an IPX survey ship and Zack knew he would have to report any breach of the ban to Lochley. But at the moment he had no proof this woman had been anywhere near the Vorlon empire, and any questions he asked would only make woman suspicious, which was the last thing he wanted to do if she did turn out to be a smuggler.
She smiled and then glanced briefly in the direction of the docking bay. "It is of rather a unique design," she admitted. "And it has something of a mind of its own when it comes to flying, but it was all that was available at the time."
"Do you need assistance in recovering your ship?" he asked. "There are agents for most of the major salvage companies on Babylon 5."
"I think it will be best to leave it where it is for now," the woman replied quickly. "Now that I am here, I hope to sell the shuttle and book passage back home on a commercial transport." Before Zack could press her any further on the matter, she reached inside her robe and pulled out a slim plastic card. "I believe you will need to look at this before I am permitted entrance to this station."
Zack nodded, taking her identicard and running it through the scanner. As her data scrolled up the screen, Zack took careful note of the details, a habit he had picked up after so many years in security. Her name was given as Jeanne Darias, with no middle name listed. It was not one he had heard before, which was always a good sign. Usually, if he had heard of someone before, then it was because their file had crossed his desk at once point and they were wanted for some heinous crime. The identicard listed her place of birth as the Sheffer IV colony, which was one of the least interesting of Earth's twenty of so major colonies. Most surprisingly, it gave her age as twenty years old, a lot less than he had guessed at first glance. Not that she looked older, but there was a quality about her that made her appear ageless, making it difficult to determine her exact age.
"Everything seems to be in order, Miss Darias" he said, handing back the identicard. "If you will just step through this scanner so we can make sure you don't have any illegal substances or items on you," he continued, pointing to the weapons scanner behind him. "Standard procedure," he added quickly, when the woman hesitated.
Jeanne looked suspiciously at the scanner, but stepped forward into the device and stood still as the machine quickly examined her body for any hidden weapons or other contraband. "She's clean, Sir," Aldred said. "No weapons or any illegal substances." Then the security officer frowned and looked up at Jeanne. "You aren't carrying any electrical devices are you?"
"Nothing but this bag, and it holds clothing and a few other personal items, but little more," Jeanne replied, tugging a small cloth bag off her shoulder. It was almost identical in colour to her robe, which was probably why no-one had noticed it until now. She held it out for the security officer to scan.
Aldred quickly ran the more powerful hand scanner over the bag, but it picked up nothing out of the ordinary. "Weird," she said. "Perhaps there is something wrong with these scanners after all. They picked up an odd energy reading for a minute there. It's gone now though."
"Have one of the techs check it out," Zack said, deciding to interrupt the customs officer before Jeanne became too suspicious. If the scanners hadn't picked up anything, and this woman was a smuggler instead of an innocent traveller, then any goods she had been hoping to bring on the station were probably still on her ship, which the scanner team he was sending should find. Besides, there had already been one disruption in customs this morning, any more and the captain was sure to hear about it and the last thing he needed was more complaints. He stepped around the scanner so not to set off the alarm and walked over the Jeanne's side. "Welcome to Babylon 5, Miss Darias, is there anything else I can assist you with while you are here?"
Jeanne nodded. "I am in need of lodgings during my stay. It will take some time to arrange everything for my return home and I will need a place to stay while I am here."
"Of course," Zack said. "There are information terminals near the exit, you can use them to contact the local rental agents. I can show you how if you like."
"I would like that very much, Mr. Allan," she said softly, glancing briefly at something over his shoulder as she spoke.
Zack smiled. "This way then," he said, pointing towards the exit. He turned and was about to lead Jeanne away from the terminal when something caught his foot and he found himself tumbling to the floor. Caught by surprise, Zack only stopped himself from falling by grabbing hold of the edge of the security terminal. Angry, he spun around to confront whoever had tripped him, only to find himself looking at the insectoid face of j'Nialth.
"Apologies, Security Chief Zack Allan," the Thrakallan merchant said, extending a claw to help Zack steady himself. "I was watching screen," he said, waving another claw in the direction of an advertisement for a resort on Mars. "I was not aware you were walking into me."
"I don't believe that for a second," Zack growled, brushing aside j'Nialth's offer of assistance.
Hidden for the moment behind j'Nialth's large body, Jeanne quickly scanned the note the merchant had shoved into her hands, then folded it and slipped it into a pocket in her robe. Stepping around the merchant she walked over to Zack. "I was about to warn you that he was standing there," she told him, "but I was not quick enough. It was just an accident, I'm sure this creature didn't mean any harm."
"You see, Chief Allan," j'Nialth said, spreading his claws wide and bobbing his head in agreement with Jeanne. "It was accident. There will be no problem, yes?"
Zack frowned, eyeing the merchant suspiciously. He could have been sure that j'Nialth had been a good ten metres away last time he had seen him. Still he hadn't been hurt, so there wasn't anything to make a scene over, although he would have loved to find some reason to arrest the Thrakallan. "It was just an accident," he admitted grudgingly. "But try and stay out of way of the customs terminals in future, j'Nialth." He pointed to a spot near the far wall. "Go and wait over there instead."
J'Nialth swivelled his head to observe the seats along the far wall and then swivelled it back again to look at Zack. "I will comply," he agreed. "My apologies again." He then shuffled off and was quickly swallowed up by the milling crowd of passengers.
"Sorry about that," Zack said as he turned back to Jeanne. "Things seem to be a little crowded here today."
"That was a Thrakallan, wasn't it?" she asked, with the sort of wide-eyed innocence that Zack expected from someone new to space, although he seriously doubted that was true in Jeanne's case.
"Yes, that's j'Nialth, One of our friendly local gem merchants," Zack replied. "I wouldn't buy anything from him though," he added. "Anything you purchase from a Thrakallan is sure to be overpriced and probably a fake."
"I do not think my credit balance runs quite that far," Jeanne admitted. "Just enough for a room for a few days and a couple of meals. Perhaps you can recommend somewhere cheap, but clean? I have never really got the hang of using these new computer systems, they seem so complex."
Zack looked at her curiously, wondering why someone who was obviously an accomplished pilot, able to make a landing on a space station like Babylon 5 without the aid of a docking computer, would have trouble with a basic computer. Still, at least this way he would know where she was if he needed to question her further. "I think I know a place," he told her. "I can even guide you there if you like. It's not far out of my way."
"Thank you, Mr. Allan," she replied with another dazzling smile. "That will be most useful indeed."
Zack smiled as well, although he wasn't sure exactly why. "This way then," he said, pointing toward the exit. "It's not far."
As they walked away, there was a suddenly flurry of movement in the crowd to the right of security terminal. Bringing his body to its full height, instead of the usual slumped posture his people tended to adopt around aliens, j'Nialth rose up on his hind legs until he could see out over the crowd, his head just peeking over the top of a large Narn merchant who was completely unaware that he was being used as a shield by the Thrakallan. He turned slowly to follow the passage of Zack and Jeanne as they walked to the entrance, an almost hungry glint in his glittering multi-faceted eyes.
Then his gaze fell on a human passenger sitting quietly near the entrance reading a copy of The Universe Today. As if he was feeling the Thrakallan looking at him, the man lowered the newspaper and stared over at j'Niath. In response the Thrakallan nodded once and then jerked his head in Zack's direction. The man glanced over at the woman with Zack and then nodded in response, discarding his newspaper and slipping through the crowd in pursuit.
****************
Nearly two hours later, Nicolai Luchenko and Alex Kurmis finally made it onto the station and found their way through the docking bays to the custom's terminals. Neither had much in the way of baggage, Alex not carrying anything at all, and Nicolai carrying only a single bag over one shoulder and a large wooden case under one arm. They now stood in the line of passengers from the Lord Nelson, waiting their turn to go through customs.
"Are you sure we can trust this Thrakallan?" Alex whispered, as they waited for the line to start moving again. As he spoke, he glanced around nervously as if expecting someone to be trying to listen in on their conversation. "What to stop him selling us out, just like he is selling out Jeanne?"
"I've known j'Nialth for years," Nicolai replied, not bothering to whisper. "He is the most trustworthy Thrakallan I know."
"That's not saying much. Everyone knows the reputation the Thrakallan's have. I do not want to fail now, not when she is so close."
Nicolai smiled and patted a pocket, which bulged slightly. "You just have to understand the way they think. The Thrakallans like money and the more of it the better. Offer them enough money and they will betray their own mothers...although I'm not sure that Thrakallans actually have mothers."
"I'm still not..." Alex began, before being interrupted by the security officer running the customs terminal.
"Are you two going to stand there all day?" the officer asked, looking at them with a bored expression on his face. "If so, then please move to one side so I can process the other passengers."
Alex scowled at him and then marched up to the terminal and slapped his identicard into the man's hand. The security officer didn't seem to notice the telepath's anger, quickly checking the card and then waving Alex through. Nicolai moved forward, placing his case down onto the desk and handing over his identicard. As the officer scanner the card, Nicolai pressed his thumb against the genetically coded lock on the case and then opened it up. "I think you might need to check this as well," he grinned.
"Do you have a permit for that?" the security officer asked him calmly, pointing to the weapon in the case.
"Of course," Nicolai said, handing over the card. "I am hoping to sell it to a Centauri merchant on the station, a collector of some renown on his homeworld."
"Whatever," the officer replied disinterestedly. "the permit checks out so you can bring it onto the station, but make sure that it isn't loaded, or we will have to confiscate it." He handed the pass back. "You can proceed."
Slipping his permit back into his suit pocket, Nicolai nodded once in the direction of the security officer, closed up the case and hurried over to where Alex was waiting. "Do you really need that," the dark-haired telepath asked as Nicolai reached his side. "I don't see what's wrong with a normal pistol. That thing must be at least two hundred years old."
"More like three hundred, actually," Nicolai replied, patting the top of the case. "But it's never let me down yet. There are some things that get better with age and this little beauty is one of them." He tucked the gun case back under his arm and pointed in the direction of the exit. "Come on, we had better get moving. J'Nialth is going to be waiting for us in his store."
****************
Aragon Pernimi looked around the room, most displeased with what he found. He turned on the human woman who had guided him here. "Is this the best you can do?" he asked haughtily. "I am used to the finest the Centauri Republic can offer and you provide me with this...this hovel. I demand that you find me better lodgings than this at once."
"I'm afraid this is the best room we currently have available, Sir," the woman explained, her voice calm and measured, well used to the demands of the Centauri and the other races who frequented the station. "If you are not happy then you are of course welcome to try somewhere else, but we cannot provide what we do not have."
Aragon sniffed dismissively, examining one of the paintings that hung from the walls. It was painted by some obscure Earth artist and depicted a windswept field of wheat with a dilapidated barn in the background. "How depressingly rural," he mused, before turning back to the woman and sighing. "It will do, I suppose," he said. "Now, what exorbitant amount do you require for me to rent this festering dump for a week?"
"One thousand credits in advance," the woman replied. "We also accept Centauri ducats, and most common forms of alien currency."
"Bah. It is nothing more than robbery. A thousand credits to stay in this tin can. Why I could have hired an entire house for that back on Immolan."
"We do have several less expensive rooms that you can rent," the rental agent said, displaying an incredible amount of patience. "They are not quite as large..."
"I will take it," Aragon said quickly, reaching into a pouch hanging from his belt and removing several heavy gold coins. "This should cover the fee for the next two weeks."
The woman nodded, and accepted the coins. "Is there anything else you will need, Sir? Perhaps you would like to keep your money in our vault. The station does have a large number of pickpockets and I would hate for something bad to happen to you."
Aragon smiled, his toothy grin reminding the rental agent of a shark. "I do not fear pickpockets," he said in an amused tone. "If they steal from me, then they will soon regret their mistake." Then his mood suddenly changed, growing darker. "Now take your fee and depart from my presence," he said coldly. "Do not bother me again."
The rental agent sighed to herself, and after a short bow in the direction of the annoying Centauri she departed. As soon as she was gone, Aragon turned back to his examination of the room. Dropping his sole remaining piece of luggage onto one of the lounge chairs, he moved into the centre of the room. Holding one hand out in front of him, his palm facing the nearest wall, he slowly spun around in a circle, while at the same time reaching out with his mind to scan the walls for listening devices. Finding nothing, he moved into the other three rooms and repeated the scan before finally satisfying himself that no-one was attempting to listen in on any conversations he might conduct.
He was actually very surprised that he hadn't found anything. He would have thought that despicable insect he was now working for would have bugged the entire station. In fact, he was surprised that the humans hadn't done something similar when they built this place, but he had always heard they were strange that way. On the other hand, after what had happened to him over the last two weeks, nothing would really surprise him anymore.
Two weeks ago he had actually been someone, the feared and respected leader of the Immolan V telepath's guild. He had been employed by the cream of Centauri nobility, had eaten the finest foods and lived in a vast palace suitable for one of his rank. Now he was a renegade, on the run from his own government, all because he had been hired by a minor noble to scan the Emperor. This sort of treatment for a member of the guild was unheard of. The guild was always neutral in conflicts between nobles and even the Royal Household upheld that neutrality. The guild could be hired by either side, but owed loyalty to none. By tradition, the one who hired the guild was held responsible for any spying, not the telepath. Which made this warrant for his arrest even more intolerable. Never in the guild's long history had a member, let alone a master such as himself, been treated in this manner.
Of course, he had complained, for all the good it did. He had expected support from the Grand Master on Centauri Prime, but the dithering old fool had just abandoned him, left him to meet his fate alone. So he had been forced to flee, and eventually he had even been forced into to dealing with less than reputable aliens to ensure his survival. No doubt the emperor's assassins were already on his trail, and he had very little time left to live. This Thrakallan had promised safety though, for a price. Aragon hated dealing with the foul creature, but when someone is being pursued by the Centauri Assassin's Guild it doesn't pay to be too picky about who he had to deal with.
Sighing, Aragon slumped down in one of the lounge chairs, before reaching over and pulling a half-empty bottle from his bag. He examined the purple liquid sloshing around inside with some scepticism, before pouring himself a glass and sitting back to wait for the Thrakallan's agents to arrive. He had seen the insect waiting near the customs terminal, and after the performance he had given, there was no doubt that j'Nialth knew he was here. All he had to do was wait to learn what service he would be expected to perform in return for passage to some distant world. Whatever it was going to be, he knew he wasn't going to enjoy it.
****************
Three levels deeper into the station, Zack Allan also found himself in the residential section of the station, although his companion was considerably more pleasant than the Centauri telepath. He had spent the past two and a half hours showing Jeanne Darias around the station, a task that Zack had found very satisfying in an odd kind of way. Now that he thought back on it, he couldn't remember exactly when his offer to show her to a rental agent had turned into a grand tour. Normally, being asked to act as tour guide was enough to send him running for the hills, but for some reason though, he found the young woman irresistible, and guiding her around the station seemed more like an honour than a task. In fact, he was almost sorry that the tour was reaching its conclusion. He realised that there was still a chance that she was a smuggler, but after spending the better part of three hours in Jeanne's company, he found it difficult to imagine her engaging in any wrong doing.
A short distance down the corridor, Zack saw the door he had been searching for. Turning to Jeanne, he pointed out the nondescript door. "That's the one there," he said. "I hope it is suitable."
"I'm sure it will be fine," Jeanne replied, walking swiftly over to the door and slipping the card the rental agent had given her into the lock. "Although, it was a little more expensive than I had originally hoped."
"There is a shortage of living space on the station at the moment," Zack said apologetically. "I'm afraid this is the cheapest available, unless you wanted something in brown sector, but I wouldn't recommend that idea."
Jeanne nodded and then smiled wanly at him. "Thank you for the tour, Mr. Allan," she said softly, as she turned and walked through the door into the room beyond. "It has been most useful."
"I'm glad I could be of some assistance," Zack said, stepping through the door after her. "If there is anything else I can do, I would be happy to help."
Jeanne placed her bag down on a bench and without turning around replied, "in fact, there is something that you could help me with." She turned around and glanced over at the door. "Close," she told the computer. It quickly registered her voice and the door slid shut behind Zack. Then, as Zack looked at her with a curious expression on his face, Jeanne began to untie her robe.
"I'm not sure..." Zack began to say, before stopping when he saw what Jeanne was wearing beneath her robe. Instead of the naked flesh he had been expecting, he was now confronted with a dark outfit, that looked more like some sort of combat uniform than any familiar form of casual clothing. His gaze wandered down her body, observing the knee high boots made of some sort of animal hide, and then finally falling on the small dark-coloured pistol hanging from her belt...just as Jeanne's right hand closed over the weapon.
"I'm sorry about this," Jeanne said softly, drawing the pistol and raising it towards Zack. "I do not have the time to help you understand just how many races are at risk if I fail — nor the confidence that you have a large enough soul to believe me if I told you who I really am. It's better that you sleep until I have taken what I came for and I'm gone." The security chief quickly lunged for his own gun, but before his hand had even closed around the weapon, there was a soft popping sound and a sudden explosion of pain in his chest.
Somehow managing to pull his own weapon from its holster, Zack struggled against the numbness spreading through his body, but was unable to fight it, the PPG pistol slipping from his hand and landing with a clatter on the floor. He looked over at Jeanne and gasped out, "why?" before collapsing into the deep abyss of unconsciousness.
****************** ACT TWO *****************
To the uninitiated — the young adventurer on his first voyage from home, or the rich noble unused to the ways of devious alien merchants — j'Nialth's tiny shop was an exotic wonderland. Gemstones and rare crystals from a hundred worlds sat on padded shelves, along with necklaces, bracelets, and even the odd crown or two. Behind the coating of sparkle and glitter though, the shop was little more than a front for the Thrakallan's less legitimate business dealings. Certainly, the jewellery store pulled in a tidy profit, but it was in the hiring and selling of certain essential services that j'Nialth was beginning to make his name.
When he had first arrived on the station, he had been somewhat nervous, even worried, about the prospect of setting up his operations among so many different alien species. As young, low-ranked male, he had little experience with aliens, or with running the sort of operation he needed to finance his future ambitions back home. However, he was still a Thrakallan and his people's genes ran thick with the skills he needed to thrive in this new and strangely tempting environment. Using the funds bequeathed to him by a dying relative — or rather stolen from a dying relative, since it was not the Thrakallan way to allow their elders to die without first squeezing them for every last credit. — he had set up this small shop, and now, barely more than a month later, he was preparing to take over a good portion of the station's underworld. Even by Thrakallan standards, his fortunes had undergone a dramatic rise since his arrival on Babylon 5.
Of course, his takeover bid required a considerable influx of new funds, and while the shop did bring in a portion of the necessary credits, he had been forced to deal with some less than sane alien creatures in recent days. Still, if today's dealings worked out as he planned, then he would have the credits he needed, along with a suitable reserve. Putting aside the collection of Minbari crystals he had been examining, he glanced up at an antique Earth clock that dominated one wall. Thrakallans as a species were not overly prone to displays of nervousness, but j'Nialth could not help put feel a small amount of anxiety as he awaited for his guests to arrive. Just as he stood to gain substantially from this venture, he could also lose everything if events did not proceed as he had planned. Already he had invested a considerable amount of his ready cash into procuring certain items and services that would be needed and if the clients failed to arrive on time...
The clock struck ten, its melodious chimes announcing the arrival of two humans in the store. Had he been human — or at least, if he had possessed a human-like respiratory system — j'Nialth would have sighed in relief. Instead, he just inclined his head in the direction of the taller of the two humans and gestured for them to approach.
"J'Nialth, you old rascal," Nicolai Luchenko said, a smile on his face. "How are things in the jewellery business?"
"Very... profitable," the Thrakallan replied, cautiously examining the thin man who accompanied Nicolai. As a precaution, he slid the tray of crystals he had been examining off the desk and placed them on the shelf behind him. He did not get to where he was now by trusting others, especially a rogue like Nicolai Luchenko. "Who is your companion?" he asked suspiciously.
Before Nicolai could reply, Alex pushed his way forward. "Where is she?" he demanded.
Nicolai quickly pushed Alex aside, an apologetic expression on his face. "He's no-one important," he told j'Nialth. "Just insurance in case something goes wrong."
J'Nialth nodded slowly. "Insurance is good," he agreed. "But it is also good if your insurance remains under control."
"I think we can be assured of that," Nicolai replied, staring at Alex, while at the same time trying to mentally pass on a message to the telepath to control his temper. Not being telepathic himself, the tall Russian couldn't be sure if Alex got the message, but as the dark-haired telepath didn't make any further outbursts, he assumed he had managed to get through to him.
"Good," j'Nialth said. He waved a claw towards a beaded curtain that separated the store front from the back room where most of his business was conducted. "Come, we have much to discuss."
"After you," Nicolai said. "Age before beauty." J'Nialth regarded him curiously, as if trying to work out what he meant by that comment, but didn't argue, instead just nodding in agreement and shuffling through the curtain. Nicolai moved to follow, but found a restraining arm holding him back.
"I don't like this, Luchenko," Alex whispered fiercely. "How do we know we can trust this creature. He could be setting us up."
Nicolai shrugged. "Possibly, but j'Nialth is a friend and Thrakallan's don't sell out their friends... unless, of course, they get a really good offer!"
"We don't need the risk. We can find her on our own, we don't need any assistance."
"You mightn't," Nicolai replied. "But I like to make sure I have backup before going into a fight. Besides, this is j'Nialth's turf. He knows every nook and cranny on this station and we are going to need his help. Remember that if it wasn't for j'Nialth, we wouldn't even have this chance."
"I don't like the way he is so eager to sell out Jeanne. If what you told me earlier is correct then she hired j'Nialth, and now he has turned around and is helping us. How do you know that that he won't do the same to us."
Nicolai smiled. "As I said, he's a friend, and despite everything else I think he is someone I can trust. For the moment he needs me as much as I need him, so we have what the Thrakallans refer to as a symbiotic business contract. As long as we still need each other, or at least as long as my money holds out, we'll be safe enough."
"I still don't like it," Alex muttered.
"Then you need to get out more. This is the way the universe works and it isn't going to change just because you want it to." Nicolai took a step towards the curtain and then stopped and looked back at the telepath. "Now are you coming, or do you want to stand around out here until my business with j'Nialth is finished?" Without even waiting for an reply, Nicolai turned and strode confidently through the curtain and into j'Nialth's lair. With only the slightest expression of apprehension on his face, Alex followed, brushing aside the glittering curtain, and stepping into the darkened room that lay beyond.
****************
Sergeant Alan Wilson yawned as he strode into the docking bay. Behind him, two technicians struggled to manoeuvre a large trolley loaded down with scanning equipment past a stack of packing crates. Pausing next to a zero-g lifter that a dock worker had carelessly parked near the exit, he look out his data pad and scanned a list of entries. "All right," he said finally, after reaching the last of the entries. "It looks like we have one to go before knock off time. The Chief wants us to take a look at a shuttle that arrived this morning."
"Which one, Sarge?" the older of his two technicians, Charles Kimanthi, asked, sweeping a hand around to indicate the huge bay... as well as the sizeable collection of shuttles and transports of all shapes and sizes. The tall African leaned comfortably against the scanner trolley, while the other technician, Aaron Becket, sat down on a nearby packing crate to catch his breath. "It looks like we have a fair collection to choose from."
Wilson frowned briefly at Kimanthi, who just smiled, before turning back to his data pad and checking the entry again. "Landing pad 7c," he replied, pointing across the bay to a small black shuttle that was partially hidden behind a larger Minbari vessel. "Come on, lets get this done quickly and we can go and have a drink at Alfredo's after work."
There was a groan from Becket, as he stood and began the laborious task of pushing the heavy trolley of equipment across the docking bay. Fortunately for the younger technician, the shuttle was only a short distance along the docking bay, instead of at the far end of the long chamber. But, after a long day pushing a heavy trolley of equipment around the station, even a short journey seemed torturous.
Coming to a halt near the shuttle, the two technicians set to work, Becket unrolling a length of cable and attaching it to a circular sensor array, while Kimanthi started unclipping panels and setting up the equipment needed to conduct the scan and record their findings. Leaning up against the nearby Minbari vessel, Wilson looked over the entry on his data pad again. "Damn, looks like the Chief wants the whole deal. Mineral, biochemical, the lot. Looks like that trip to Alfredo's might have to wait."
"Sarge!" Becket suddenly called out. "I think you had better come and look at this."
Wilson sighed and place the data pad down on the top of the scanner. "What is it now?" he asked as he walked over to where the young technician's was standing. Becket didn't reply, instead he just pointed towards the shuttle. Wilson glanced over at the tiny vessel with an annoyed frown on his face, before he also spotted what the technician had discovered. "Hell, now that's something you don't see every day. Kimanthi, take a look at this."
The older technician frowned as he walked over to see what his two work-mates were doing. Then his eyes opened wide and he crouched down to look beneath the shuttle. "It's got no landing struts," he exclaimed. "It must use some sort of artificial gravity to levitate above the deck, but I've never seen anything like it before."
"Neither have I," Wilson replied, running his hand beneath the shuttle, as if he believe that there was really some sort of trick at work and the struts were really just hidden somewhere. As he passed arm beneath the shuttle, every hair on the back of his hand stood on end and a weird tingling ran down his arm. He quickly snatched it back, clutching his hand against his chest as if it had been wounded. "Let's get this done and get out of here," he told the other two. "This thing is beginning to give me the creeps."
Becket nodded and walked cautiously over to the shuttle. In his hand he still held the sensor array for the scanner, which he now began to attach to the vessel's outer hull. As soon as the circular device was clamped in place, he took a quick step backwards and hurried over to the trolley to turn on the scanner. "I've got a bad feeling about this," he muttered, as he flicked the main power switch.
Nothing happened. Then there was a faint hum from the scanner as it powered up, causing several screens mounted on the back of the trolley to flicker into life. "Now this is interesting," Kimanthi mused, tapping a command on the main keyboard. "There doesn't seem to be any feed coming through from the sensors. Are you sure you attached them correctly?"
"Of course," Becket replied angrily. "I'm not stupid."
"Well, you had better check again. I'm not getting any readings here."
"All right," Becket snapped. "I'll check the bloody sensor array." Muttering to himself, he strode back over to where he had attached the bundle of sensors to the shuttle's hull and began to examine the array. "It probably needs replacing," he called out to Kimanthi, when he discovered that two of the array's power lights had failed to come on. "This equipment was substandard when it was new, and given the amount of work it has had recently, I wouldn't be surprised if it has given up the ghost."
"Give it a whack with something," Sergeant Wilson suggested. "That usually does the trick."
Becket nodded and pulled his heavy flashlight from his belt. Pulling his arm back, he hit the sensor array with as solid a blow as he dared, hoping the delicate instruments inside the array casing wouldn't shatter. But instead of the shattering sound he was expecting, there was a solid thunk of metal striking metal and then a tiny blinking light came on, soon followed by a second, indicating that the array was operating again.
The technician didn't have time to celebrate his small victory though. As soon as the second light came on, the dark surface of the shuttle's hull suddenly erupted with light. There was a blinding flash and then a pulse of white lightning arced down the sensor cable to smash into the scanner trolley. Becket was caught in the middle of the explosion of energy and suddenly found himself flying across the docking bay, eventually landing heavily, nearly ten metres away.
Realising the danger they were in, the other two members of the scanning team threw themselves across the deck, just as every instrument and display on the trolley overloaded at once, sending sparks and shards of super-heated metal in all directions. That series of smaller explosions was followed soon after by a huge explosion of flame and energy as the heavy storage cell that provided power to the instruments blew, sending a plume of smoke and fire high into the air.
Amazingly, none of the scanner team was killed in the explosion, although they were all momentarily stunned. Wilson was the first to recover, opening his eyes to find himself being covered by a thick white foam that the docking bay's emergency extinguishers were spraying over the trolley and everything nearby. A siren began wailing, and in the distance he could see several figures rushing in their direction. Quickly getting back to his feet, he hurried to pull his recovering companions from the foam. Becket was the worst injured, limping due to a twisted ankle, and cradling his blackened right hand, which had been holding the cable when the lightning had arched down it. "What the hell was that!" he asked as soon as they were clear of the extinguishers.
"Looked like some sort of automatic defence system," Wilson replied, cringing as another small explosion tore through ruined equipment. "It must have activated when it detected our scanner probing its hull."
"I think we are going to need something with a little more firepower if the chief wants to take a look inside that thing, Sarge," Kimanthi said, trying to wipe the foam off his overalls.
"Like a battle tank," Wilson muttered as he wiped the foam off his link and tapped the button to connect him to security central. As soon as the voice of the communications officer greeted him, Wilson said calmly, "put me through to the Chief. It looks like we have a bit of a situation down here in docking bay six."
"I think that's an understatement," Kimanthi said, looking over at the shuttle. Where the sensor array had been attached, there was now a faint patch of white on the hull, as if the explosion of energy had scorched the metal. That proved not to be true though, as moments later the white patch faded and the hull returned to the smooth black surface that had greeted them earlier. Kimanthi looked up at Wilson. "Better make that two tanks," he suggested.
****************
Oblivious to what was going on in the docking bay, Jeanne Darias stood before tall mirror in the bathroom of her rented quarters. She stared intently at her reflection, watching her eyes as if attempting to catch a glimpse of something hidden behind the pale orbs. Then she shook her head, as if trying to dismiss a painful memory, and turned her attention to the array of weapons laid out on the shelf next to the mirror.
Picking up the first, a thin throwing dagger, she slid it into a hidden pouch in the sleave of the long leather coat that had replaced the robe she wore earlier. A twin of the first dagger was next, followed by several more daggers and knives that she secreted about her person. Once all the knives were safe in their sheaths, she reached for one of the two remaining objects, a large package wrapped in soft fabric. Careful not to drop the package, she transferred it from the shelf to an interior pocket. Finally, all that was left was the pistol she had used on Zack. She picked it up, feeling the slight drain on her life force as it began to draw energy from her body to power itself. She quickly slid it back into its holster before it could fully charge and then turned to look at herself in the mirror again.
Satisfied with what she saw, Jeanne straightened her coat and headed back into the main room, paused to look down at the fallen form of Zack Allan, who still lay stretched out on the floor where she had left him. She knelt at his side and quickly checked his pulse and other vital signs to ensure that he still lived. She had not enjoyed shooting the security chief, but as she had told him before firing, she could not allow him to stand in her way, not when so much was at stake.
A tingle at the back of her mind suddenly tore her attention away from Zack's condition. Recognising the mental signature of her shuttle, Jeanne opened her mind and allowed its thoughts to touch hers. <Alert,> the shuttle's voice stated calmly, the words echoing inside her head, carried to her via the neural transmitter she wore — a highly advanced piece of technology that was hidden inside the delicate jewelled circuit she wore around her head. <Mistress, Intruders have attempted to breech hull security seal. Have successfully repelled with zero casualties. Please respond with further instructions.>
Following the message there was a series of still images that seared into her mind — the scanner team approaching, their examination of the shuttle. The attaching of the sensor and finally, the destruction of the scanner. Frowning in annoyance, Jeanne realised that she should have foreseen such an encounter. It was within the shuttle's power to project false readings into primitive equipment of the sort the scanning team was using, but she hadn't ordered it to do so.
For a moment she felt anger towards the shuttle, but quickly pushed that back, realising that the vessel was not to blame. It had limited experience with curious humans and responded in the way it had been taught. No, the fault was hers, and the consequences were also hers along to bear. Coming to the conclusion that her mission has suddenly become much more difficult, and that some additional assistance might be required, Jeanne directed her thoughts back towards the shuttle. <Activate full security measures at once, and send a homing beacon to Zater'Enin.>
Had she possessed telepathic abilities the sending would have been much easier, but even with that handicap the shuttle somehow managed to pick her thoughts out of the hundreds of other minds nearby and soon there was a faint reply. <Security system activated, Mistress> it reported. <Energy reserves are sufficient to maintain shielding and minimal weapons for seventeen point three standard hours.> There was a brief pause and then the shuttle continued. <Zater'Enin contacted and is now en route. Estimated time of arrival, sixteen point one standard hours.>
Jeanne didn't bother with any further message, trusting in the living vessel to protect itself and inform her if anything else happened that she should be aware of. Instead, she rose and walked towards the door. There she paused, removing the entry card the rental agent had given her from a pocket. She examined it for a moment, before deciding it was worthless and tossing it onto a lounge chair near the entrance. She did not plan on returning to this room, so the card held little value to her now.
With a final glance back at Zack, she pressed the door control and stepped out into the corridor, quickly shutting the door behind her again so no-one would see the security chief. Then she turned to walk along the corridor toward the core shuttle, only to pause at the last minute and stare in the other direction with a frown on her face. Several times during her guided tour through the station, she had felt eyes watching her. Most of the time, it had just turned out to be a curious passers-by, interested in her because she was with the station's chief of security. Other times though, there had been no-one there, just a long empty corridor as there was now.
She examined the corridor closely for several second, before finally dismissing the feeling as paranoia. She reached into her pocket and withdrew the slip of paper that j'Nialth had handed her earlier that morning. During her tour of the station she had memorised every location of interest, as well as the comments that Zack had about each region. She knew now that the location chosen by j'Nialth for their meeting was very remote indeed, and for a moment wondered why the Thrakallan did not simply meet her in his shop. However, given the nature of their transaction, she understood the need for caution and did not disapprove of the decision to meet so far from the well travelled corridors of the Zocalo. Returning the note to her pocket, she left the room behind, walking swiftly along the passage towards the central corridor.
Shortly after she had departed, there was a loud coughing sound a few metres along the corridor Jeanne had just examined thoroughly. A portion of the wall shimmered, as the human-sized figure hiding there moved, breaking the chameleon effect of the device he wore. He had been forced to hold his breath as Jeanne had looked in his direction, knowing that any sudden movement would have betrayed his position.
Drawing several deep breaths, the figure soon recovered his composure and walked slowly over to the door Jeanne had just exited. As he walked, the air around him shimmered as the changeling net tried to compensate for his movement. Surprisingly, it did a reasonable job, making him appear like a man-sized object of roughly the same colour and texture as the wall and floor. When he paused by the door though, it did a better job, the holo-projectors effectively rendering him invisible.
The figure glanced towards the corridor Jeanne had taken, as if undecided about following her, or remaining here to examine her quarters. Finally the watcher chose the later, looking around to be sure that no-one was watching, and then touching a control on his arm to deactivate the changeling net. The holo-projectors shut off immediately, exposing the rough, scarred features of Lynx Reisel, j'Nialth's chief lieutenant, spy, and head-kicker.
Realising that if he was spotted wearing a changeling net, forbidden technology on Babylon 5, then he would be in for a lengthy spell in the brig, Lynx moved quickly. Tapping a few commands into the control panel, the device activated again, displaying an image that identical to his true form... only without the tell-tale holo-projectors and power supply showing. With the power of the changeling net, it would have been possible to appear as anyone whose image he had scanned and recorded, but Lynx liked to play on his reputation. J'Nialth may have given the changeling net so that he could slip unnoticed through the station's underworld to carry out the crime lord's business, but that didn't mean he had to use it all the time.
Walking up to the door, Lynx hummed to himself as he examined the lock for several seconds. Then he reached into a pocket inside his jacket and pulled out a slim plastic card. He carefully lined it up with the door lock and then thrust it in, jumping back as the card exploded in a shower of sparks. Its lock now useless junk, the door cracked open just a fraction. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Lynx to get his hand inside and push it open the rest of the way. He then stepped through the door and stared in astonishment at the sight that greeted him.
"Well, well, Mr. Security Chief," he chuckled. "It seems that you've got yourself into a little trouble this time."
Then his face turned serious again and he slapped his hand down on the interior door control, which fortunately still functioned. As the door slid shut, Lynx walked over the check Zack's pulse. Satisfied that the security chief was still alive... at least for now, Lynx turned his attention to the rest of the room. Lying on the bed was the white robe he has seen the woman he had been asked to tail wearing, and sitting on a bench in the tiny kitchen was the white cloth bag she had been carrying. Lynx picked up the bag and turned it inside out, but it was empty, so he tossed it onto the floor behind him.
Annoyed, he turned to Zack. Spotting the chief's pistol lying on the floor, he was just bending over to pick it up when there was a sudden beeping sound. "Shit!" Lynx swore as he saw the link on the back of Zack's hand. He quickly snatched it up, then dropped it onto the floor and ground it beneath the heal of his boot, cutting off the connection before anyone could trace the link's location. Realising that if even a partial trace had been achieved he wouldn't have much time, he snatched up the PPG, depositing it in yet another pocket in his jacket as he hurried to complete his task.
****************
Lochley sighed wearily as she sat down at her desk. The meeting with Vizhak had gone just as she had expected... badly. Of course, it might have turned out better if her security chief had been present, instead of off chasing phantom smugglers. Pouring herself a steaming mug of coffee, she pushed thoughts about the Drazi ambassador to the back of her mind and turned to the collection of reports and files that had collected on her desk over the past few hours. No matter how long she was out of her office, even if it was only for a few minutes, something new also seemed to appear on her desk. It was one of less enjoyable parts of being the commander of a station the size of Babylon 5.
Taking a long sip from her mug, Lochley placed it to one side, and turned to the first document. But, before she could even begin to start reading, her link beeped. Sighing, she tapped the receive button angrily. "What is it?" she snapped.
"Sorry to disturb you, Captain," Lieutenant Corwin's voice replied. "I was wondering if you had seen Mr. Allan any time over the past hour."
"No I haven't," she replied. "But if you see him, tell him I want to see him at once."
"That may be a little difficult," Corwin said. "It appears that Mr. Allan has disappeared and isn't answering his link. I though he might be with you, but if you haven't seen him..."
"Have you tried tracing his link?" Lochley asked, a cold feeling of apprehension gripping her. She could think of a few reasons why Zack wouldn't reply, but unfortunately none of them were very pleasant.
"As soon as he didn't reply. But, his link went dead almost straight away and I wasn't able to get a lock."
"All right, start tracing his movements. Do you know where he was last seen?"
"Customs I think," Corwin replied. "He went to look the situation with that shuttle I pointed out to you this morning."
Lochley frowning, thinking back to earlier that morning. She recalled the shuttle of course, as well as Zack's reasoning as to why he needed to check it out. She didn't remember hearing anything further though, so assumed that it mustn't have turned out to be important after all. "No-one has seen him since then?" she asked.
"No," Corwin replied. "Although..."
"What?" Lochley demanded.
"The shuttle I mentioned. It has some sort of auto-defence system just attacked a scanning team in the docking bay. It blew up their equipment and set off every alarm in the docking bay. That's why I was looking for Mr. Allan."
"Was anyone hurt?"
"Just a few scratches and one broken ankle. But the scanner has been totalled and the Minbari government is probably going to have something to say about the damage to one of their flyers. I've already ordered..."
"What were the scanning team doing there in the first place?" Lochley interrupted. "And why didn't our sensors detect that auto-defence system when the shuttle docked?"
"Mr. Allan ordered the scan, and I don't know why the sensors aren't picking up weapons systems on that shuttle. It might have something to do with the distortion in the readings that I mentioned earlier."
Lochley massaged her forehead, feeling a monster of a headache beginning to develop. "All right," she said finally. "Seal off that section of the docking bay and put a guard on that shuttle. I don't want anyone to go near it until we know how to deactivate that defence system. Then put out an alert regarding Mr. Allan, but try and keep it quiet. I don't want the whole station to know he is missing just yet. Finally, bring whoever saw Mr. Allan last to my office. If we are going to start searching for him, then we might as well know where to start."
"I'll send for the security officers in the customs terminal," Corwin said. "I think they were the last to see Mr. Allan. C&C out."
Lochley stared and the now silent link for several seconds. It wasn't like Zack Allan to not leave notice of where he was going, and it certainly wasn't like him to vanish without trace. There was something going on here, and she hoped that whatever it was, it wouldn't lead to the death of someone she considered a friend, not to mention a damn fine security chief. For a moment, she felt like leaping up from her chair and leading the search for Zack personally, but she realised that the search had to be done correctly if it was going to succeed, and rushing off before all the facts were known wouldn't help anything. She just hoped that, wherever he was, Zack was still alive and unharmed.
****************
Back in Jeanne's quarters, Lynx paused in his search, looking around and the scattered drawers and torn cloth. "Nothing," he muttered to himself. "Doesn't this bitch own anything of value?" Then he spotted a faint glitter beneath one of the lounge chairs, just behind Zack's head, and lying next to the white bag he had tossed away earlier in his search. Moving quickly, he crossed the room and crouched down near Zack, searching around with his hand until he encountered something hard.
Pulling the object out from its hiding place, he found himself holding a small diamond, probably worth several thousand credits at current prices. Polishing the gem on his jacket, he held it up to the light. "Well, I wonder if you have any more friends around here, hmmm?" he said to the gem, still staring deeply into its glittering depths. A sudden beeping shook him from his dreamy examination of the stone though, and quickly slipping the diamond into one pocket, he pulled a short-range communicator from another. "Lynx here," he said as he switched the device on, already realising who it was that was calling him.
"Where is human target?" j'Nialth's artificially generated voice asked, the Thrakallan's translator somehow managing to put an menacing edge to the words.
"Heading for the rendezvous the last time I saw her," Lynx replied, well aware that she could be anywhere by now, but he assumed that she wasn't about to miss the meeting with j'Nialth, not after going to so much trouble to contact the Thrakallan in the first place. "She doesn't suspect a thing."
"Good," j'Nialth replied. "Retrieve Centauri package and meet in my shop as soon as possible."
"I'm on my way, Boss," Lynx replied, flicking off the communicator and slipping it back into his pocket. He looked over at the unconscious form of the security chief, a smile crossing his scarred face for the first time since he first enter the room. "Looks like you won't have the pleasure of my company for much longer, Chief. Oh well, I'll buy a drink for you the next time I'm in the casino. It's just a pity you won't be there to drink it."
Reaching down, Lynx pulled a long-bladed knife from his boot sheath and ran the blade along Zack's throat. "I wonder what you're friends will think when they find you," he murmured. "I almost wish that I could be here to see their faces."
****************
Lochley paced angrily along in front of her desk, moving past the three security officers — the two who had last seen the chief, and their superior — and finally pausing in front of Corwin. "So let me get this straight," she began. "Mr. Allan was last seen in customs, meeting the pilot of the same shuttle which has been blowing up parts of docking bay six, and there hasn't been the slightest trace of him since."
"There have been..." Corwin began.
"A few rumours and sightings from every corner of the station," Lochley finished for him. "Which isn't a lot of help. Every report seem to contradict the other, and no-one is any closer to finding out where exactly he is."
"Um, Captain," a timid female voice spoke up.
Lochley turned on the speaker, one of the two officers who had been on duty in customs when Zack had been there. "What is it, Aldred," she demanded.
"It is just an idea," the young security officer began nervously. When Lochley motioned for her to continue, her confidence grew. "If we assume that Chief Allan is still with this woman, Jeanne Darias, then it may be possible to locate her."
"How?" Lochley asked. "We haven't had any luck finding her either. I agree that she is possibly responsible for Mr. Allan's disappearance, but I don't see how we will have any better luck finding her. Without Mr. Allan's link to trace his location, we don't have much to work with."
"Not entirely true, Captain," Aldred corrected her. "She did mention that she was looking for quarters for her stay on the station, which was when Chief Allan offered to guide her there. So all we need to do is run a check for any rooms that have been rented out in her name and we may have something to go on."
"Surely she would use a faked identicard," Corwin commented.
"It's worth a try though," Lochley said, moving over to her desk. "The question is though, how are we going to do it."
"I copied her information from the central computer on my way here," Aldred offered, producing a data crystal from her pocket. "When I heard the chief was missing, I thought it might come in handy. I know he was interested in her, and I thought...." Her voice trailed off as she realised that the Captain was holding out a hand. A little embarrassed, she handed over the crystal.
Lochley accepted the data crystal and slid it into the reader. While she was waiting for the computer to copy the information, she turned back to Aldred and examined her with a curious expression on her face. "How long did you say you had been on the station?" she asked.
"Just under five weeks," the young officer admitted.
Lochley raised her eyebrows. "That is good work then." Just then the computer beeped to indicate that it had completed the transfer, so she turned back to the desk. "Computer begin scan using the inputed information. Search all rental accommodation on record."
"Match found," the computer reported almost instantly.
"Display Location!" Lochley almost shouted. A screen on the wall blinked to life, flicking through a plan of the station's levels, before finally ending on a schematic of a level in red sector. "She rented a room on Red 8," Lochley said, tapping the flashing indicator on the screen. "That's only about five minutes walk from here. If we hurry we can be there in three, so lets get moving. Lieutenant, you wait here. Everyone else, come with me."
Corwin nodded and turned to watch as Lochley, closely followed by the trio of security officers hurried out of the room. He could understand their haste. If Zack Allan had been kidnapped by someone who meant him harm, then every second counted. Corwin only hoped that they got there in time.
****************
J'Nialth's office, the small room at the back of his jewellery shop, was not really equipped to hold a large number of beings, but somehow everyone fitted inside. In the centre of the room was a plain metal table — Thrakallans did not care much for luxurious furnishing, especially when they couldn't use most human furniture. On one side of the table crouched j'Nialth, whose long insectoid body was not really suited for a chair. A chair was positioned next to him, but it was currently empty, awaiting the arrival of his Lieutenant. On the other side of the desk sat Nicolai Luchenko and Alex Kurmis, and behind them the hulking forms of two Bilubi bodyguards.
Another of the massive, frog-like humanoids stood behind j'Nialth, watching carefully as his Thrakallan master examined a recording of a distant jungle world, paying special attention to a heavy bag that two holographic figures were carrying onto a spaceship.
"This is genuine?" j'Nialth asked, as soon as the recording had finished. He shut down the device and slid it back across the desk to Nicolai.
"Of course," the Russian promised him. "I would not try to cheat you."
J'Nialth clicked his mandibles together. "Everyone tries to cheat me sometime," he told Nicolai. "You have not yet, but you may soon. You have proof of this? I know of this world you speak of, it is within the border of Vorlon space. An expedition would be very expensive and I must be assured of profit before I would assist you. Warriors and starships are not cheap and many will be required."
Nicolai smiled, removing a heavy package wrapped in cloth from his pocket and passing it across to j'Nialth. "I think you will find these genuine enough," he told the Thrakallan, pulling aside a flap of cloth to reveal a pile of large diamonds and a single huge ruby that was at least two centimetres across. "These are only some of the smallest of the gems I collected while on Arias, there were still tens of thousands more, just lying around waiting for someone to take them."
One of j'Nialth's bodyguard handed him a mineral scanner from a shelf on the wall behind the two humans, and j'Nialth ran it across the gems, his eyes lighting up with greed when the scanner confirmed the truth of Nicolai's words. The scan complete, he placed the scanner down on the table and then carefully covered the gems again. "These are genuine," he admitted. "But how do I know there are more? Perhaps you have already taken all gems."
"You have my word," Nicolai replied. "And, you have seen the recording, surely that is enough evidence for you."
"Recordings can be faked easily, and promises mean nothing to my kind."
Nicolai smiled again, reaching across and pushing the gems towards j'Nialth. "Then keep these. If what I say is true, then I will be able to replace them quite easily when you take control of Arias. If not, then you will still keep a tidy profit, more than enough to cover the cost of buying a small starship and equipping it for an expedition to the world."
"Are you out of your mind!" Alex cut in, looking incredulously at Nicolai. There has to be at least two million credits worth of gem stones there and you're just going to give them to him."
"Do we have a deal, j'Nialth?" Nicolai asked again, ignoring the telepath's outburst. "The gems for the woman. Surely that is enough to buy your assistance."
Any answer j'Nialth might have given was cut short as an alarm suddenly sounded. "Someone approaches," j'Nialth said, sliding the gems back to Nicolai and turning swivelling his head to face the wall behind him. He examined a monitor mounted on the wall for a second, before saying, "there is no problem, it is Lynx. He is expected."
All heads at the table turned to face the door as Lynx pushed aside the bead curtain and strode into the office. Behind him came an average-sized Centauri, dressed in some of the finest clothing Nicolai had ever seen. "Quite a gathering you have here, boss," Lynx commented as he walked over and took the empty seat beside the crime lord. If j'Nialth was angry with the lack of respect shown by his underling, he gave no sign, but Nicolai, who had known the Thrakallan a lot longer than anyone else at the table, knew that unless Lynx curtailed his behaviour there would be a new lieutenant sitting at j'Nialth's side the next time they met.
"Who's this?" Nicolai asked suspiciously, indicating the Centauri who had arrived with Lynx.
J'Nialth waved one of his claws in a dismissive gesture. "You have your insurance, I have mine." He then swivelled his head to face the Centauri. "I trust you had a good journey, Lord Pernimi?"
"I've had better," Aragon replied. "Do these... humans have something to do with me?"
"A minor problem I desire your assistance with, nothing more," j'Nialth replied, his mandibles making a faint clicking sound, one Nicolai recognised now as the Thrakallan form of laughter. He frowned at j'Nialth, knowing from past experience that an amused Thrakallan was not usually the sort of Thrakallan you wanted to be around.
"What sort of 'minor problem'?" Aragon asked suspiciously. "Remember, I don't work for you j'Nialth."
"You need my help, so now you work for me," j'Nialth replied. Then, when Aragon looked ready to argue the point, he added, "unless you want me to contact your former employers and inform them of your current location. I have promised to assist you, now you will assist me. That is our agreement."
Aragon nodded slowly. "That is true," he admitted. "But remember to keep your end of the bargain, j'Nialth. I am not one to cross, and you don't have the entire Centauri imperial guard to back you up, ulike the last person who crossed me."
"A simple service, nothing more. Succeed and I will grant you what you desire." J'Nialth did not bother to tell Aragon the price for failure, but Nicolai, who had seen such dealings before, knew that the Centauri telepath would be very lucky to escape with his life if j'Nialth, or indeed any Thrakallan, wished him dead.
"All right," Aragon sighed. "What is it you require of me?"
"In a moment," j'Nialth said, turning around to face Nicolai again. "Our negotiations are complete. I accept your terms. I will get location of the mine, pass codes for planet's defences and half share of all profits. You will get human female's body, and after expenses, the other half share of profits. This is acceptable?"
Nicolai almost smiled then, realising that j'Nialth, as always, had worded the contract so he would end up with nothing if he agreed to it. He had no doubt that the 'expenses' that the Thrakallan talked about would eventually total the amount of credits he would get from his half share of Arias' gem mines, but he didn't really care. "Agreed," he said, nodding his head in j'Nialth's direction
J'Nialth didn't reply for several seconds, staring at Nicolai, almost as if he was suspicious of the human's motives. Nicolai wondered if he should have tried to haggle, j'Nialth might have expected that and now his suspicions would be aroused. Whatever suspicions the Thrakallan might have had weren't apparent in this next statement though. "It is settled then," the crime lord said, sounding pleased. "Now all we must do is collect our key and claim our prize."
"As long as we have the right bait," Nicolai added. "We still need to lay the trap."
J'Nialth gestured to one of the bodyguards, who carefully placed a small metallic case on the table. "When she contacted me, bargain was for this. She will be there."
"What is it?" Alex asked, staring at the curious object.
"A Thrakallan code slicer," Nicolai answered, shaking his head in amazement. "I'm surprised you managed to get it onto the station, j'Nialth. Those things have a fairly distinctive energy signature, and I image security would be on the look out for something like that."
"I have my ways," the Thrakallan answered mysteriously. "It is here — and now — so is she. I have arranged to meet her today to exchange slicer for many credits. You will go instead and force her to tell you codes for gem planet's defence system. Agreed?"
Alex looked doubtful, but Nicolai nodded. "That is acceptable, j'Nialth."
"Good, then go now, meeting is for two hours from now. Lynx will guide you and my bodyguards will assist."
"And him?" Nicolai asked, pointing to Aragon, who was watching the whole proceedings with a disinterested expression on his face.
"He has other mission," j'Nialth replied. "Wait outside while I inform him of what is required. Lynx and Lord Pernimi will join you shortly."
Nicolai nodded and gestured for Alex to follow him as he headed back into the jewellery store. Alex eyed j'Nialth suspiciously for several seconds before standing and walking slowly to the exit. As soon as they had departed, j'Nialth flicked a wall-mounted switch, activating a noise dampener to ensure that Nicolai could no longer hear any conversation that took place in the room, and gestured for Aragon to sit. "You don't need to bother, j'Nialth," Aragon said as he sat opposite the Thrakallan. "I already know what you are planning, you just need to tell me my part in it."
"You should not spy in my mind, Centauri," j'Nialth warned. "I need you now, but do not think that I would allow you to live if you know too much."
"I don't," Aragon replied. "Just that you are planning to betray the humans. Just tell me my part in this, so I can complete by debt to you and get off this station before the Emperor finds out I'm here. I'm sure I've already been seen by his spies and if he know I'm here, then his assassins won't be far behind."
"It's not assassins you have to worry about, Certauri," Lynx said, getting his feet and walking around behind the seated Aragon. "It's me. If you don't do what the boss asks, then it is me you will be answering to."
Aragon sighed. "What is it you want j'Nialth?"
J'Nialth leaned closer, staring straight at Aragon. "It is wealth that I seek, a vast wealth that will make me ruler of entire homeworld. Human female is key to wealth. She knows secret ways to Vorlon world and you will bring her knowledge to me. For this I help you, and for no other reason. Agree now or die."
Out of the corner of his eye, Aragon saw one of the bodyguard levelling a high-yield energy weapon in his direction. J'Nialth obviously thought that he could threaten him into agreeing to his terms. Aragon could already think of five different ways he could incapacitate the bodyguard, along with everyone else in the room, but for some strange reason found himself captivated by j'Nialth's story. Perhaps it was the mention of the enigmatic Vorlons — a race that had always fascinated him, ever since his father vanished on an expedition to into Vorlon space — or maybe it was just his lack of direction since his departure from Centauri space, but whatever the reason, Aragon found himself agreeing to j'Nialth's proposal.
"Very well, j'Nialth," he replied, taking no notice of the Bilubi bodyguard. "I will do this, it should prove... very interesting, very interesting indeed."
****************
Word of Zack's possible location had spread fast and by the time Lochley reached the corridor where the room was located, two security officers were already there, attempting to force the door open. "Nearly there, Captain," one of them grunted, his muscles straining as he attempted to widen the gap between door and frame, the broken lock preventing the normal override codes from working. That finally push though, seemed to do something, as there was a hissing sound and the door slid back into the wall.
Lochley, Sonia Aldred, and the other members of security with them, leapt into the room, weapons drawn in case there was anyone waiting for them. Instead all they found was the still unconscious form of Zack Allen, swinging slowly in the faint breeze from the environmental system, which someone had set to its coldest possible setting. The security chief was almost naked, wearing only his underwear, his uniform used to tie his feet to a light setting, so he hung with his head swinging just above the floor. His eyes were closed and he appeared oblivious to the whole situation.
"He's alive, Captain," Aldred, quickly checking Zack's pulse.
The Captain nodded, having already noticed that the security chief was still breathing, his breath visible as a faint mist in the chilly air. She turned to the Narn officer who accompanied Aldred from customs. "Get him down!" she snapped, her voice carrying more than a trace of anger over the way her security chief had been treated.
The Narn nodded and with the assistance of the two who had forced the door open, carefully lifted Zack down and laid him out on the bed. Zack did not react as they moved him, the slow rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he was still alive. "I think we had better get him medical assistance, "Aldred suggested, after quickly examining Zack for injuries. "There is a small wound in the chief's shoulder, but I'm more concerned about the effects this cold might have had on him."
Lochley nodded again, noticing the extreme cold in the room for the first time. Her mind had registered that it was cold as soon as she had entered the room, but after seeing Zack hanging there, she had paid little attention to the exact temperature until now. Tapping her link, she placed a call for a medical team to come and retrieve Zack.
"What do we do now?" the young security officer asked, as soon as Lochley had complete her call to Medlab. She looked up at the Captain, as if looking for guidance now that Zack was incapacitated..
"Organise a search," Lochley said, her voice calm despite the anger she was feeling. "I want this entire station covered from bow to stern. Wherever the woman who did this is hiding, I want her found and arrested. No-one does this sort of thing to my chief of security on my station and gets away with it. I don't care who you have to question, I want her found."
****************** ACT THREE *****************
Grey 19 was one of the more remote sections of the station. Its main function was to house part of the station's recycling system, consisting of a network of pipes and tanks that carried and stored waste from across the station to be recycled and turned into fresh water and protein. It was also one of the quietest levels on Babylon 5. Gone was the constant throb of conversation and movement as tens of thousands of station residents went about their business. Instead, there was just the low background hum from heavy machinery located on the upper levels... and the occasional gurgle from the pipes.
Walking slowly along one empty corridor, Jeanne Darias paid little attention to the odd noises the pipe made. Her attention was focused on the path before her. The corridor was darker than most she had seen in her travels so far, the station's designers seeing little need to fully illuminate the least used portions of the station, although they had deemed it necessary to install security cameras and monitoring devices. She had noticed several of these, but had ignored them, assuming that j'Nialth had already disabled them.
A large red tank loomed in the distance, the rendezvous location j'Nialth had indicated in his message. Two more tanks, these a dull grey in colour, lay further down the corridor, surrounded by a network of colour-coded pipes and valves. The exact use of these tanks was not known to Jeanne, and she had little interest in such matters. The red tank was simply a place to meet, and so she stood in its shadow and waited. There was a single light a short distance down the corridor, but it was not strong enough to illuminate the whole corridor, providing a round circle of light, but doing little to push back the shadows that gathered around the tanks.
Nearly ten minutes past, and then suddenly, she detected a noise somewhere behind her, the faint sound of someone's shoe scuffing against the floor as they attempted to move quietly. "Who is there?" she asked, looking into the darkness. In response to her question, a tall blonde-haired man walked out into the light. His soft leather boots squeaked faintly as he walked, and he wore a dark jacket crafted from the skin of some scaled, reptilian creature. The was a bulge in one pocket of the jacket, where the edge of a large rectangular shaped package