By Elizabeth Ann Lewis

Part 1

Chapter 1

"A mob is an ugly thing," Garibaldi muttered under his breath with a truly atrocious German accent. It didn't seem as though he was going to have much of a choice about having this one. The reception area was filled with anxious, milling Humans, waiting for the ship that had just exited the jumpgate to dock and release her passenger. He supposed he should be thankful for small mercies that there weren't any other races mixed in, or a bloody brawl was inevitable. He frowned. Where had *that* phrase come from? The only Brit he'd spent any time talking to in quite awhile was Sinjun. "Talking like her already. Bad sign, there."

"No. Talking to *yourself* is a bad sign," Ivanova joked at his elbow.

The brief moment of levity passed and Garibaldi scanned the crowd with an all-too-practiced eye. "They act like they're waiting for God himself to disembark."

Ivanova rolled her eyes. "Nah. Just the savior of our people. No big deal."

Garibaldi was distracted for a moment by a shoving match taking place near the front of the mob. When things had settled -- relatively -- down, he turned back and answered, "If you mean that with two words that woman could just about snip the tightrope we've been walking for the past few years, yeah, no big deal."

The crowd became completely silent as the doors slid open and a slender figure stepped out. Although two older men flanked her on either side, there was no doubt who was the focus of the group. Her clothes were simple, practical, and attractive. Her face was none of those. Dark brown hair was coiled in braids around a head held regally aloft. Her slanted dark eyes surveyed the crowd and she offered a surprisingly warm smile when cheers erupted. Remoteness faded with the curve of her mouth and her outflung arms. Instead of seeming ridiculously melodramatic, the gesture managed to convey honest appreciation.

Garibaldi snorted, half out of reflex, and muscled his way forward in the crowd. Ivanova sighed and followed, taking the lead by the time they had reached the woman. "Ms. Chang," she greeted her formally. "I'm Commander Susan Ivanova. Welcome to Babylon 5."

Mingala Chang smiled again and inclined her head graciously. Her ancestry was obvious in her face, a mix of Caucasian and Asian that was by far more striking than beautiful. "Thank you. I will be glad to be here."

Odd phrasing, Garibaldi thought for a second. Then he realized... she'd only be glad to be here when her business was done. "Ms. Chang, I'm Security Chief Michael Garibaldi. I've been instructed to escort you to your quarters." His voice didn't let slip how much he'd rather be escorting her to a waiting cruiser... or an airlock.

"Thank you. I'm rather tired. It was a long trip." Without seeming to raise her voice, it rang out more clearly as she continued, "Somehow, I don't think I was meant to come this far from home."

Consummate politician, Garibaldi thought in disgust as the crowd began cheering again at her statement. She probably couldn't ask someone to pass the salt without making a pithy statement on the universe today.

"My advisors..." she turned to indicate the men with her with a graceful gesture. "There are accommodations for them?

"We have rooms for them as well, don't worry."

"I don't," she said quite bluntly, and smiled. "Lead the way."

There was no cheering, attending crowd when then next cruiser docked to release her passengers. Amidst the dozens, a lone Minbari exited the ship, carrying one small sack of his belongings. It was with a certain amount of relief that he spotted a fellow Minbari in the crowd and crossed to him. "Greetings, Lennier. Delenn alerted you I would be coming?"

Lennier returned the newcomer's somewhat perfunctory bow with a complete one of his own. "Indeed, she did, Ximenn, and instructed me to bring you to her as soon as I could." Without waiting any longer, the two of them turned towards the Ambassador's quarters. "The Human woman arrived barely before you. Had the crowd lingered any longer, I would have been hard-pressed to reach your ship. They would not," he said with delicate understatement, "have looked upon a Minbari with favor."

"I would think not," Ximenn said, shifting his bag from one shoulder to the other. "Tell me about her."

Proper ambassador's aid that he was, Lennier launched into the information he had accumulated. "Her name is Mingala Chang, aged thirty Earth years, educated well -- by Earth standards, at least. Since then she has built a career and a reputation as a vocal EarthFirst proponent." Lennier's voice did not change while reciting the dry facts, but his eyes did.

"Her family?" Ximenn asked absently.

"None. Her parents died during the War -- of natural causes, it seems -- and she has no siblings or children."

Ximenn didn't seem to react to the information, merely asked more questions. "Why is this one so popular? There have been dozens -- hundreds -- of pedagogues who have spouted all the same words. Why is this one so important?"

"If I may draw a conclusion...?" Lennier asked. Ximenn inclined his head, and Lennier continued, "She is not an extremist. She does not advocate the slaughter of all non-Humans. She does not argue that we need to be punished for our part in the Earth-Minbari War, for having the arrogance to nearly defeat them, and the gall to surrender. She merely proposes that Earth belong to Humans and contact with aliens be eliminated. And with such a moderate, rational, calm perspective, she lures many Humans who otherwise would react with disgust to the hatemongers that have come before." Ximenn said nothing, and Lennier kept going. "She has no known reason to hate the Minbari -- as I said before, she had not lost anyone in the War -- so her opinion is trusted and valued as being impartial."

"I understand. What of the negotiations?"

Lennier mentally shuffled his notes. "She is representing the TerraFirma Corporation, well-known for its EarthFirst leanings. It has raised a substantial amount of money -- not to mention influence. The requested negotiations are for the shares that Minbar holds in this station."

"So that they will equal, if not surpass, EarthCentral's hold on the station," Ximenn supplied.

"Exactly. Supposedly, if these negotiations end with victory for her, she is to begin negotiation with the Centauri as well."

Ximenn fell silent for the rest of the walk, digesting the information. When they reached Ambassador Delenn's quarters, it seemed he had come to a conclusion. Whatever that was remained hidden behind light eyes and a dignified greeting, one that didn't manage to hide his surprise at her appearance.

After the ritual pleasantries had been completed, Delenn nodded for Lennier to depart and gestured gracefully to her guest to seat himself. "Surely you had heard about my transformation by now," she asked him, a small smile curling one corner of her mouth as he continued to stare.

Ximenn nodded, his smile lurking in his eyes. "Indeed, I had. However, the difference between hearing and seeing is vast enough to startle even me."

It was odd, he thought, seeing someone he knew -- or, rather, had known in the past -- having undergone such a complete metamorphosis. Even her facial expressions seemed different, more free, more Human. Surely that was a sign that her change was not of skin and bone, but of essence.

Why such a radical step, for so little purpose?

"Ximenn...." Delenn's voice sounded very much as though she were muffling a laugh. "Either your bag has been possessed by demons or..."

Ximenn blinked, then glanced at where he had dropped his bag on the seat beside him. It was performing undulations of a sort that inanimate objects rarely did of their own volition. With a laugh that was only a little sheepish, he undid the ties on the top.

A Human would have probably called the thing that emerged a shapeless, featureless ball of fuzz. With a small cry of delight, Delenn sank onto the couch beside him and cupped her hands so that the creature could waddle into her embrace. Lifting it to nuzzle against her cheek, she sighed happily. "I haven't seen a gog in... much too long," she decided.

"You didn't bring one with you to the station?" Ximenn asked, reaching out one hand to stroke the animal's head. The little ball turned slightly, gave a half-hearted mewl of discontent, and returned its full attention to the worship Delenn was giving it.

"I wasn't sure of my own place here on Babylon 5, let alone bringing another creature. Besides, I've yet to be chosen by a gog," she said half-humorously. Gogs were notoriously picky pets. While anyone who wished to could own one, it was considered a sign of integrity and honor -- not to mention patience, tolerance and an extremity of forbearance -- to have a happy gog for a pet.

"Brwyn seems to be fond of you," Ximenn said dryly. "She's not likely to acknowledge my existence for a few days after packing her into a bag. But I was not sure what the station policy was on bringing animals on board, and I didn't want to chance her being taken into quarantine -- or the larder, for all I knew. And I wasn't about to leave her behind."

Reluctantly lowering Brwyn to the ground, Delenn watched her curl into an even tighter ball, yawn once, and drop into sleep. The moments of levity had managed to break through the seriousness of Ximenn's mission here, reminded him of the past -- their shared past -- and Delenn was grateful for it. Perhaps now she could reach him.

"I was pleased to hear that you were the one selected to travel here." Calmly, Delenn faced him and smiled her mysterious smile that always reminded him of the legend of Olwenn, she who never spoke a lie and yet never spoke a direct truth. "I have been curious about your path since yours and mine diverged."

Ximenn's expression did not change. Even so, he knew that she picked up on his surprise despite his lack of response -- or perhaps because of it. "I thank you for that honor, Satai," he told her, formal to the edge of his simple robes.

"Ah, I have offended you. My apologies." Her eyes were searching, probing, despite her words of atonement. "Does it surprise you that I would be curious about a child I had once known? Once taught?"

"You guided me on my path before my heart realized it was not the one I wished to take. I have no regrets for what I learned then or what I chose now." His words were still rigidly formal -- but no less heartfelt for that.

"Your Calling took you away from us. We have always understood that."

"You did. The rest didn't."

How much, Delenn wondered, had that lack of understanding shaped he who stood before her? Severed from those who had raised him, known him, loved him, and moved by destiny and desire into a role that he knew was right for him -- but was so different from anything he had ever known. "You were so promising," she murmured. "And it is hard to see that what one wants and what another needs could be opposite."

"I was never meant to be a priest. I refuse to apologize for that."

"There is no apology needed. You know that. When you left our clan, you did it with our blessing. Despite those of us who saw only your ability, and not your heart, we would rather have a true warrior among us than a false priest." She paused, putting an end to that discussion, then took a deep breath and continued. "But now that past is what makes you needed here, now, on Babylon 5. You are a warrior who has the teachings of the religious caste. Between the two, you are the one most likely to be able to negotiate with the Humans, to keep them from driving us out. We cannot afford to lose any control of this station. Some already consider us shamed by having Sheridan replace our choice as leader here. I am seeking a bridge between our races. I cannot allow that bridge to be sundered." Rising, she held out a hand to him. "Come. I would invite you to share my meal with me. There is much I have to ask you. And, I think, much you have to ask me."

"Well, it's obvious that she knows the term, 'fashionably late'," Sheridan joked. The banquet room was filled with the creme de la creme of Human society on Babylon 5, those involved in business, in the arts, in science. A redheaded woman stood on a low stage and sang in a husky voice of the men who'd done her wrong. What few aliens were in attendance were mostly Centauri. There was not a Minbari in sight.

Mingala Chang's two advisors were enthusiastically conversing with the heir of a transportation fortune. At least, one of them was enthusiastic. Dr. Gideon Hampton, professor emeritus of political science at [University], could talk for hours without seeming to pause for breath or response. Julian Benedict was quieter, watching and cataloging carefully. He had been a senior editor at the publishing house where Mingala Chang's work was released and had given up his lucrative position to aid in her accent to the stars. Neither man looked as though they regretted their decision to play second fiddle to a much younger -- and much more brilliant -- woman.

Of Mingala Chang herself, however, nothing was to be seen.

Ivanova glanced around the room. "I hate these," she remarked calmly.

Sheridan laughed. "The price of your promotion, remember? Diplomatic responsibility."

"Why are we having a diplomatic reception to honor a business deal? It's nights like these that make me wish I was a lowly gunner again," she grumbled.

"Don't I know it," Sheridan said somewhat wistfully, summoning up a polite smile for a prominent Centauri businessman.

"Hashing out old battles, are we?" Garibaldi joined them after working his way across the room. "I could think of a hundred better things we could be doing right now."

"Like?" Ivanova demanded.

"Picking nits out of Lurkers, spit-shining the hull, analyzing the chemical base of... whatever it is that the Centauri use on their hair. Personally," he confided in the tones of someone sharing the secret of the universe, "I'm convinced that it's a secret weapon."

Sheridan raised one eyebrow, looking at Ivanova. "You never told me that one of Garibaldi's duties was as the court jester."

"It's something that must be experienced for itself," she told the bottom of her glass.

"If you're trying to get on my good side with the comedy routine..." Sheridan began humorously, turning to signal the bartender for another drink, and nearly hitting a Human woman in the face. "I'm sorry-"

"Ms. Chang," Ivanova snapped her spine into place and went into professional mode. "We didn't see you there."

Mingala Chang smiled, nothing obvious but amusement in her face. "I know. I'm sorry, I was making my way across the room and managed to land beside you. Luckily, I'm good at ducking." Satin gleamed on her shoulders as she shrugged lightly, her gown a stylized version of the kimono. It was an uneasily fascinating synthesis of Earth's old division between East and West.

Burying any sign of boredom, Ivanova performed the introductions. "Ms. Chang, this is Captain John Sheridan, commander of the station. Captain, Mingala Chang."

Sheridan put his amiable smile in place, holding out his hand. "Welcome aboard, Ms. Chang. I hope you find your visit here enjoyable."

Mingala took Sheridan's hand, pairing it with a slight incline of her head. "Thank you. The little I've seen has been fascinating. More than that. Somehow, it seems that we need more words than we have to describe the things found out in the stars."

"I don't know, 'wow' covers a lot for me," Garibaldi observed laconically.

That startled a laugh out of Mingala. "You're right. It's a failing of mine that I feel that I must always have words at my command. Some things are beyond words."

Willing to do his duty, Sheridan deposited his empty glass on a table and offered his arm. "If you would like to meet some people--"

"No. Not quite yet." Moving aside gracefully, she managed to avoid his gesture without seeming to. "It is much more interesting to watch for a bit. I did a grand entrance this morning. Now... I'd just like to see where it is I am."

A swelling murmur caught their attention, the sound curious, avidly interested, and vaguely hostile. The four Humans turned their heads at the sound. "It doesn't look to me as though you're going to get the chance to go unnoticed anymore," Ivanova muttered to Mingala.

The whole room, in fact, had stopped and taken a step back from the developing tableau. Three Minbari were slowly, regally cutting through the crowd of Humans. The Humans they were approaching stood still, watching. Slightly separated from the three EarthForce officers, Mingala was left to stand alone as Delenn reached the cluster. "Captain Sheridan," her lightly accented voice hailed him.

"Ambassador, it's a pleasure to see you," Sheridan greeted her politely. He managed to keep the fact that it would have been a greater pleasure to not have her appear in the middle of the Coliseum when the lions were restless out of his voice.

Delenn smiled and bowed. Lennier hovered anxiously in the background, but Delenn was completely calm in the midst of the Human crowd. "Thank you. May I present my companion, Ximenn."

Returning Delenn's greeting, Sheridan rapidly performed the necessary introductions to his staff. "And this," he said, turning finally to Mingala, "is..."

"My adversary," Ximenn broke in. Placing one hand over his heart -- well, where a heart would be in a Human, at least -- he bowed deeply. "I look forward to our battles."

"Our peaceful negotiations," Mingala correct lightly, returning his bow. "We have had enough of war, I would hope."

"A battle is not a war, and negotiations are rarely peaceful."

Mingala stiffened and pulled herself up to her full height. "It is my duty and desire to ensure that there is no further cause for strife between our peoples."

Ximenn settled himself more firmly before her. "Any people -- or peoples -- who co-exist in any way will eventually have strife. It is the fifth law of sentient being."

"My point exactly," Mingala said sweetly. "Any people who interact will have strife. It is my desire that there be none."

"No interaction, or no strife?"

"Since, as you have just said, there cannot be one without the other...." She let her voice trail off.

Unexpectedly, Ximenn bowed to her again. "Battle has been engaged. Shall we meet tomorrow for the next skirmish?" Without waiting for her answer, he turned and left the room.

Mingala didn't move until the avid circle of watchers had abandoned the scene, there being no further entertainment. Then she blinked and seemed to recover herself. Garibaldi watched her glance around her, and was suddenly disgusted. She looked like a child wondering where her toys had gone. "Sorry, your audience left. There's no one watching you now."

She turned to look at him, her face perfectly expressionless. "You're wrong. There are always eyes watching me." Then she smiled, a meaningless twist of her lips, and made her way to the thickest portion of the crowd.