By Elizabeth Ann Lewis

Part 3

Sinjun didn't know what to expect when she came face-to-face with Ximenn. Or rather, she knew exactly what to expect. Most of the warrior caste Rangers she had trained with had treated her with contempt and hostility. The rest effectively ignored her. When Jeffery Sinclair replaced Turval as Anla'Shok Na -- Ranger One -- most of the warrior caste had simply left. With the warrior caste members of the Grey Council actively working against the Rangers, Sinjun's automatic reaction to the warrior caste was to consider them stumbling blocks at best, and active enemies to the Ranger's cause at worst.

She didn't know much specifically about Ximenn. Born and originally trained in the religious caste, he had shocked his clan and house by following his heart to the warrior caste and the Rathenn clan. She hadn't met any of the Rathenn clan in the Rangers; their Calling to serve and protect the Minbari people was similar to the Rangers, too similar for one of the Rathenn clan to bother with switching clans. She'd been briefed, of course, about Ximenn's presence on the station -- by Delenn, who had obviously not had all the information herself.

Delenn hadn't known that Ximenn would be capable of murder.

For a moment, Sinjun felt a flash of sympathy for Delenn. She had been encouraged and pleased that an old protegee of hers would be sent for the negotiations, seeing it as a sign for the future. For that protegee to turn out to have orders of his own, orders that would completely undermine everything Delenn was fighting so hard for...

Sinjun was interrupted from her musings when she saw two figures moving toward her. She stepped out from the shadow of a small tree, wearing a long, hooded cloak in an indiscriminate shade between grey and boring. Despite her general dislike of the warrior caste, she bowed respectfully -- if hurriedly -- to Ximenn. "We'll have to hurry -- I don't want to be seen with you."

"I have no desire to wait," Ximenn said. His voice was cold and fixed. She'd seen warrior Minbari in verbal battles, in training exercises. The one time that she'd seen them in full attack... well, that wasn't a memory that she really cared to revisit. She knew there was no way in hell that she could stop one.

She just hoped he wouldn't take the station with him.

Up ahead, William was leading them through a labyrinth of narrow tunnels. "We're going to need masks," he said in his clipped accent. "N'Grath's atmosphere is just slightly inhospitable to the health of our lungs."

From his dry tone, Sinjun took that to be an understatement. "Can we get them?"

"Got them," William said smugly. "I got hold of Joe before we met up in the garden. He told me where to find them." William found a panel that turned to expose shelves and extracted three masks. With great ceremony, he handed two of them to Ximenn and Sinjun, and pulled on his own.

Rolling her eyes at William's dramatics, Sinjun donned hers. Ximenn put his on automatically, the way he had been doing everything since they had left the Zen Garden. They had no trouble negotiating DownBelow, mostly because no one wanted to get in the way of a Minbari looking like he was out for blood.

"He'll meet with us?" Sinjun asked. She knew enough about N'Grath to know that if you needed anything illegal, immoral, or downright ungettable, he was the one to ask. People with that much power generally required appointments.

"He'll meet with us," Ximenn said grimly. Sinjun decided not to doubt him. Out loud, at least.

In fact, it did take a certain amount of pushing and shoving to get in to see N'Grath. Sinjun remained discreetly out of the way of it all. William looked as though he was perfectly happy to be exercising some of his excellent fighting skills. Ximenn... Ximenn was fixed on one goal. Everything in between was an obstacle.

Once inside the inner sanctum, Sinjun let William take charge. In clear, concise sentences, he outlined the situation. "We need to know if you have dealt with any changeling nets in the past week," he said in summary.

"And if had? What telling you give me?" was the demand.

"What do you want?" Ximenn asked. Sinjun sighed inwardly. *Not* the way to negotiate with a criminal, but...

N'Grath's face -- if it could be called such -- didn't have expressions discernable to Humans. Or Minbari, for that matter. Still, Sinjun could just imagine the insect version of "cagey" flashing across his buggy face. "Five thousand credits," he said.

~Five *thousand*?~ Sinjun thought in horror. Before she could get the protest past her throat, Ximenn nodded sharply. "Done. Who did you sell them to?"

"That not question," N'Grath protested.

"It is now. You want the five thousand? Who did you sell them to?"

"Who say I?" N'Grath countered.

"I just did. Who?"

Visibly caught between greed and caution, N'Grath gestured aimlessly with one of his legs. Finally, he said shortly, "Two Humans. One tall, one short, both dirty. They part of Heigle's gang. They probably drunk in the Dark Star now. They brag about fee they paid. I charge double for the nets, and they not care."

Ximenn assimilated the information, and nodded. Reaching into his robe, he pulled out a credit voucher and tossed them at N'Grath's feet. Turning to William, he asked, "Where's the Dark Star?"

William headed out of N'Grath's receiving room, back into the breathable parts of the station. He waited until it was clear for him to pull his mask off before answering, "I'll take you there, but I wouldn't take N'Grath at his word. For all we know, they could be offstation by now."

"Probably not," Sinjun said. "Security would have investigated anyone leaving the station after Chang's attack very carefully. No way two Lurkers with credits to burn would have made it out undetected."

"We can start at the Dark Star. Where is it?"

"Patience," William said. "All will be revealed."

"A woman could be dying, an alliance could be bleeding to death and you want me to be patient?" The Rangers were trained in battle and a certain amount of religious fatalism. Even with only a week of that training, William wasn't afraid of many things. Even so, he took a step back when Ximenn advanced, every inch of his body language looking as though it longed for a good, clean, noisy fight.

Sinjun decided to deflect Ximenn's attention off her hapless Ranger-in-training and back on herself. "Considering you were sent to be the knife to sever that alliance, don't you think that your worry is a bit hypocritical?"

Ximenn turned on her, and she stood her ground. The rage in his eyes was enough to incinerate anyone who got in his way. Good thing she was a redhead, she thought with the corner of her mind that wasn't involved in judging how to take him down if need be. She could handle a bit of fire.

Ximenn closed his eyes and his hands flexed convulsively, as though reaching for either control or a weapon. Having managed to grasp the former, he opened his eyes again and looked at her, fury banked to ash. "Does it matter?" he asked.

Sinjun started to answer, something smartmouthed and smug, but stopped, struck by the expression in Ximenn's eyes. There was, she realized, more going on here than a set of negotiations, an alliance, an assassination plot that failed, and an assassination plot that came all too close to succeeding. "Let's go to the Dark Star," she said, holding carefully on to her own control.

"What an excellent idea. I never would have thought of it." Shaking his head, William led the way.

It was not that easy, of course. But one of the waitresses in the Dark Star remembered two men bragging of their overflowing credit accounts and going off with a couple of girls. She was perhaps a bit more forthcoming than she might have been due to William's charm, but Sinjun's opinion was to use whatever you had.

They tracked their prey through a few more of the most unsavory places to spend money in DownBelow before finding them peacefully snoring off the effects of their debauch. The descriptions were accurate: one tall, one short, both filthy. The tall one woke with a cry when Ximenn brought his denn'bok down in his gut. With a short, savage move, he rammed the fighting pike into his ribs. Sinjun could just hear the meaty crack as they snapped. A blow to the knee followed, and then Ximenn brought the staff to rest -- just to rest -- on the Human's lower arm. His friend had been awakened by the screams of pain, and was trying to sidle away. Sinjun neatly swept his feet out from underneath him and sat on him, her knife at his throat.

He definitely needed a bath, she decided. "Now then," she said pleasantly. "My friend here," with a genial nod to Ximenn, "is a bit upset. Seems a friend of his was hurt today. And it seems like the two of you did it." She tsked when all her cushion did was squirm and beg. She really shouldn't be doing this, Sinjun knew. Maintaining her cover was more important in the long run than tracking down some criminals. But she hadn't had a chance to play in so long...

Prodding him a bit with the point of her blade, she said, "Look, we really just want to get information from you two. You bought changeling nets from N'Grath, right? He said, by the way, that he enjoyed overcharging you for them."

"That was petty," William observed casually.

Sinjun shrugged. "Your friend has, by my guess, a few broken ribs and a knee that is sprained if not broken. I'm willing to bet his arm is next, then his skull, since those are the injuries Mingala Chang suffered. If we haven't found out who hired the two of you to attack her, I think you just might be next."

After a few more moments of begging and screaming, the man she sat on began spilling. "He said we had to kill her. That it had to be vicious and bloody. And we had to look like Minbari. How the hell did you find us--" He cut himself off when Sinjun jabbed her knife at his throat again. Little did he know that she was trying to save him from something worse. Ximenn had abandoned his nearly unconscious prey and had swung on the man on the ground, murder evident in every line of his body.

"Who hired you?" Ximenn asked, almost gently.

"He didn't give us his name. But I'm not stupid," he added hurriedly. "It was one of the woman's advisors. I watch what's going on on this station. I know. Benedict. That's his name. Benedict."

Ximenn stood frozen for the space of perhaps one heartbeat. Then he was gone. Sinjun jumped to her feet. "Secure these two and give Security an anonymous tip. I've got to stop that bloody Minbari before he kills someone."

"Good luck," William's voice chased after her as she sheathed her knife and dashed out after Ximenn. Disgruntled, he prodded the bulky body on the ground in front of him and sighed. "I always get left behind," he mourned pitifully.

But this time it was different. Veil after veil had covered it before. Now, a few had been removed.

Mingala could hear her own thoughts, trepidation over tranquility, desperately wanting this day to end the way she wished, but knowing that she would survive it if it did not. Mingala could hear her own voice as she spoke to the elders: "As I flew from this place and became more than I had been before, so will this fly from my hand to become more than it was."

The words were gibberish to Mingala. What could they mean? At the same time, she knew exactly what they meant, and hoped they would be enough. Before, the words she spoke were true only because the words had come to her as truth. Forcing her own will on the words she spoke drained her, but she hoped, she hoped that it would be enough. For this one day, she could not be the passive mouthpiece of the curse that had been placed upon her. For this one day, she must take control of the gift she had been given.

Even as the thoughts formed in her mind, they were meaningless to Mingala. Curse? Gift? Mingala did not know. But even as Mingala flailed in confusion, she turned her head to look beside her. At the man beside her. She could not see his face, but she could see his eyes, pale and bright with... what? Before it had been disdain. To label it anything more would be to ascribe to him more emotion than he had ever felt for her. Now, that emotion had grown. But the fruit of the blossom was not contempt, it was...

"Olwenn," he said quietly. "It is not your responsibility to prove yourself before the elders. The crime they charged you with is not your own. It is mine."

To him, only to him, could she speak freely, could she speak without the burden placed on her words. Only to him, because he was the one who had cursed her with this. "They never charged me with the crime for which I was guilty. You did. And your curse became a blessing I would not trade for their approval -- or yours. If they cast me out because of what you did, I will accept it. I should have been cast out before, for my crimes of thoughtlessness. If they do not want me as I am, as I have become because of you, then I should not be here at all."

"They will not cast you out. I will not allow it." With a small gesture, unseen by the elders in the distance, he displayed the flower he held himself, identical to her own. His own power would be enough to do what she needed done. It was his own power in her that gave her the hope of it, after all.

Mingala felt herself smile, slowly. "You would perpetrate a lie on my behalf, when that was at least half of what you cursed me for?"

He smiled himself, suddenly, brilliantly. "Not a lie. For it is not a lie to present something and have it seen as something else."

"It is unnecessary." Turning away, she faced the sun just rising above the horizon. Mingala could feel the flower in her palm, warm with the warmth of life. It moved, quickened. For a moment it was caught between breaths, between the thought and the action. And then she felt it stir.

She lifted her hand, and the bird flew out of it, soaring into the sun. She tracked it with her eyes as far as she could, until staring into the light caused tears to spill down her face. She'd done it. She'd proved beyond doubt that her words, though vague, were true.

Turning back to him, she saw again the emotion in his eyes. Pride, definitely. Satisfaction, surely. And the last, the last was...

Mingala opened her eyes to stare into the sun again. Its brightness blinded her. Then a dark shape came between the sun's light and herself, resolving into a man's face. It bent down, peering into hers. She remembered great pain, a face that had flickered between pale and dark. Terrified, she began to scream, little mewling cries that were all her weakness would allow.

"Ssssh, ssssh, it's all right, you're safe," the man said. His voice was mellow, smooth and calm. She blinked and turned her head, surprised at how difficult it was to move, and the light no longer stared her down. She could see that she was in a medical facility. The light was a lamp overhead, not a sun. "I'm Doctor Franklin. You're in MedLab. You're safe."

"What... what happened?" she managed to whisper.

"We were hoping you could tell us. What do you remember?"

Mingala closed her eyes, and then found it was a tremendous act of will to open them again. She'd never been so tired. "I... Ximenn took me to Gideon's rooms. He wouldn't let me walk alone. He wanted to make sure I would be safe. I sent him away before Gideon could see him. Gideon didn't answer his door, and they appeared behind me and hit me..." Her voice trembled and broke with memory.

"It's all right. Do you remember anything more?"

Mingala frowned. Pale, then dark. "His face changed."

She could sense even through her haze of confusion and pain Franklin's sudden stillness. "It... changed?"

"It was pale, then dark. I reached up to push him away, and it changed."

"Did you grab at his neck?"

Mingala thought for a very long time. Her brain seemed to be unable to process thoughts quickly enough. "I got my fingers caught," she said. "He was bending over me. I was curled up on the ground. I reached up, and caught my fingers in something. That's when his face changed."

Franklin straightened up, and tapped his link. "Franklin to Sheridan. Ms. Chang's awake, and she remembers."

"I'll be right there," was the last thing she heard before she slipped away again.

When they hit the Zocalo, she ran out of time, room, and anonymity. But she got an idea. With only a faint pang of trepidation, she stopped and let Ximenn disappear in the distance, roughly knocking aside people as he did so. Quickly ditching her enveloping cape, she headed for Garibaldi's office. He was frowning over a datapad when she rang for entrance. ~Keep it calm, cool, casual... just a civilian reporting something weird...~ "Hey. where's the fire?"

"Huh?" Garibaldi's voice was abrupt to the point of rudeness. She didn't blame him. Mingala Chang's attack would have him up to his ears in trouble... on top of the riots... on top of the missing Senator's kid... on top of Taro Isogi's murder... Well, at least she could drop this one nice and tidily in his lap. Will would have the two thugs who attacked Chang to Security soon, and Ximenn would lead Garibaldi straight to Benedict.

Sinjun rubbed her shoulder as though it hurt. "A Minbari just tore through the Zocalo as though Valen were on the other side or something."

That got Garibaldi's attention. "Heading for rooms in Red?"

Sinjun nodded, and then got out of the way as Garibaldi charged out of the office, bellowing through his link for backup. She didn't take the deep breath that she wanted and sag back against the wall of his office. Instead, consciously keeping a vaguely puzzled expression on her face, she made her way to her rooms.

Blood on her pale skin. Betrayal by one she trusted. Betrayed by all she trusted.

Reaching Benedict's rooms, he didn't bother ringing for entrance. Ximenn pulled out highly illegal and very technologically effective "passcard" and rammed it into the slot outside the door. The device fried circuits and the door slid open obediently.

Julian Benedict rose from the desk he had been working at and stumbled back several feet, startled at the intrusion. Ximenn stalked him every step of the way, until Benedict's back was against the wall and he could go no further.

Ximenn placed one hand beneath the shorter Human's chin and shoved it up until Benedict was gasping, choking, standing on his tip-toes to gain a faint trickle of air down his windpipe. "My people believe that the greatest offense imaginable is to commit murder," Ximenn told him, his voice a sibilant hiss of fury. "It diminishes our entire race, blights the universe itself. But there must be a special allowance made for sins such as yours. Not only murder, but betrayal. Lies. The murder of trust as well as of life."

"It was for a greater good," Benedict insisted threadily, barely able to speak. "It is just one life. One life...," he choked and struggled to regain his voice, "*cannot* be more important than the needs of an entire race."

Ximenn bent his face closer to his prey's, fingers tightening to a point where he could easily crush the man's larynx. "The needs of the one *are* the needs of the many. The minute you deny one person, you have allowed all to be denied. For if one person can be justifiably murdered, are not all now vulnerable?"

Benedict's face was flooded with purple, his eyes rolling in his head. In a moment, he would be dead.

And all would be vulnerable.

Abruptly, it was though he could see again. The red haze cleared from his eyes, the shields dropped on his senses lifted. Releasing his hold, Ximenn took one step back and let the man collapse at his feet, gasping for breath. He turned when he heard running footsteps to see Garibaldi entering the room, gun out and jaw set.

Respectfully, Ximenn steepled his hands and bowed to him. "I give him over to your care. I will be content with whatever justice your government meets out to him."

Slowly, Garibaldi lowered his PPG. For a long moment, he held the Minbari's eyes as though waiting for Ximenn to go rabid on him. Then he nodded.

Whatever race or culture or enemy lines separated them, one warrior knew another.