By Elizabeth Ann Lewis

Part 3

For one stunned moment there was total silence in the room. There was cold-blooded showmanship in the move, Franklin realized, somewhat impressed, operating side by side with rabid fury just waiting to be released. The quickest way to get out of this mess and to let the fury loose was to shut everyone up. Ximenn had done that -- with a vengeance.

Then the room burst into an uproar, everyone talking at once, Gideon's petulant shrieks rising above the babble. Franklin took advantage of the chaos to herd everyone out. "Out. This isn't a council chamber. I don't perform surgery in your offices, don't hold meetings of state in mine. Out. Out!"

Moving quickly, Delenn intercepted both Garibaldi's and Sheridan's lunge toward Ximenn. She hissed some official, diplomatic version of, "I get him first," and disappeared. The two EarthForce officers spared one pained look at Gideon, and left him behind. Without an appreciative audience, Gideon went muttering back to his rooms.

In moments, MedLab was nearly deserted. Franklin looked around and shook his head. He knew enough to enjoy the peace while he could. It wouldn't last.

The dreams had pursued her into her dormancy of change, then into her new form. Never images, never words, nothing she could spread before her mind's eye and examine, explain, and wash away. Merely the feeling of exhaustion clinging to her eyes, a stain that blinded her. The feeling that her path was crystal that would break with the next misstep, hurling her from her perch to be torn on rocks below. That the burden she carried was invisible and abhorrent to all but her, and should she put it down for even a moment, hatred and fear would rise up and destroy it.

In her waking hours, she could put aside those dreams as nothing more than what they were: Her fear that she would fail. Her life, her path, her destiny denied any possibility of failure. To even consider it would be to give it form and power. And so it haunted her dreams, a ravaging beast, a rathenn whose choice was to kill rather than protect.

She had nearly become used to the complacency of the Grey Council. She expected that it would take peril beyond the faintest shadow of doubt to jolt them from that into action. Almost, she wanted it. If they had to be forced into action, then so be it.

But sending Ximenn to murder a Human... this was a direct challenge to her plans, and to her authority. No one had even breathed the possibility that such a choice might be made. The contempt with which she had been treated was intolerable. And the danger to her plans, to her hopes and dreams... Delenn shut her eyes and shook her head hard.

Side by side, without speaking, Delenn and Ximenn entered the lift. "Green 1," Delenn ordered, and the transport began to move.

"Satai," Ximenn began formally. He cut himself off as abruptly as he had started. After a moment, he tried again. Unconsciously, he lapsed into Adrenato, as he had as a child explaining his transgressions to his teacher. "I will not apologize for the task I was given. My duty is to protect. If Mingala Chang's death were to serve that need..." Ximenn's voice hung suspended for a moment, then he mastered it and continued. "Once I understood who she was, *what* she was, I could not do it. But you must understand what we lost when we surrendered to the Humans. Honor. Pride. Trust. Faith. Nothing was given to replace that. Without the information we needed to understand, we were and are forced to make choices half-blind. This was one that should not have been made."

Delenn didn't speak as the lift continued to rise. As though she had argued with his words, Ximenn continued. "I cannot make sense of this. I knew... I knew after I met her that I was not going to follow that order, that her death was not necessary for the protection of my people. But I did not know who she was, who she had been. For what she was, and what she could be, she deserved the same duty I give to Minbar. Even though I could not tell her why. And for what she is, I owe her..." Ximenn closed his eyes against the lights of the transport. "In that duty, and the one I owe to myself, I failed," he said bleakly.

When Delenn still said nothing, Ximenn continued as though silence was a pressure he could not bear. "We are ruled by our belief that we can see clearly. All a Minbari must do is say with conviction, 'I believe' and honor and aid are rendered. But do we ever see that clearly, or do we fool ourselves with a vision of light? We believed with conviction that the Humans must be destroyed for their crime against us. We were wrong. And in that fault we proved that mere belief is not enough. I came here to commit a crime. I believed I was following a greater path to do so. I was wrong. Where, then, is my truth? How can I believe what I believe ever again?

"Yet what choice do I have? To turn my back on what I believe to be true... I *believe* that it is my duty to protect my people, even though doubts plague me. How can I doubt and have faith at the same time? For I do. However dark my path, I *know* it is there, and I know I must walk it. I know that I must protect Mingala as I would have protected any Minbari, protect any Centauri, any Narn, every member of every race for we are, in fact, all one. To do this may mean that my path's eventual end is far different than I ever wished. To not do so is to squander my life and my dreams."

The doors to the lift opened and Delenn stepped out, walking the scant yards to her door. Outside of it, she turned to Ximenn and stood, merely looking at him for a moment.

Then, slowly, she smiled. Placing one hand over his heart, she bowed slightly. "Go. I will send Anla'Shok Ross to you."

Startled by her gentle smile, Ximenn simply shook his head for a moment. "Delenn?"

"Go," she said again. Her own heart ached as he walked away. In sympathy. And in fear.

"According to Allis, that's what Ximenn said. Franklin told her."

Having run out of curses, Margo made incoherent spluttering noises instead. "I can't *believe* this!"

"You can't report it," Walter warned unnecessarily.

"I know, I know," she groaned. "Diplomatic relations, touchy topic, yah, yah, yah. But... but... they sent an *assassin* to *negotiations*!" Margo was nearly vibrating with the effort to keep herself under control. "This is something people should *know*! And Sheridan would shut me down in three seconds if I even *breathed* a word of this." She began knocking her head against the wall, whimpering with each thud.

Walter's big hand patted her gently on the head. "Cheer up. We still don't know who attacked Mingala. If it was Minbari, then Sheridan *can't* sit on it anymore."

"And if it was Humans wearing changeling nets?" Margo asked.

"Then you can send another story to be archived in the round file at ISN," Walter said.

"Joy. Rapture. Delight, even." With each word, Margo banged her head again. She finally just rested her forehead on the wall and sighed. "They don't even know if she's going to live, you know. All of this going on over her, and she might not even live. That'd be a hell of a story."

"I know." Walter frowned. "Oh, one more thing. I found out what that quote was Mingala recited during the interview."

Margo turned to lean back against the wall, looking up at Walter. "What is it?"

"'The fifth law of sentient being'? It's a bit of Minbari philosophy, oddly enough. I wonder who she could have heard that from."

Thoughtful, Margo didn't answer.

Cursing herself inwardly for her foolishness, she finished her set as William settled into his seat in a shadowed corner. She really *was* going to have to teach him one incredibly simple, basic word: Discreet. He had no clue what it was at the moment.

Gliding off the stage, she wasted precious time in casually working her way his way. Luckily for both of them, there was a startling lack of security personnel in Paulie's tonight. Or maybe not so lucky. Responding to a flirting businessman, Sinjun's brain put William's appearance together with the fact that Zack, Garibaldi, or any other security guys were conspicuously not in evidence, and drew a very, very bad conclusion. Last time that had happened, it had been a riot. This time...

She quickened her pace to the corner where William was nursing a drink -- meaning she only hit two more tables instead of the five she had been planning. Gracefully, she held to her role and settled into William's corner with no evidence of stress. William, unfortunately, was not quite so controlled, vibrating with barely-concealed impatience. "What's up?" she asked.

"Mingala Chang," William said briefly. His darting glances around to make sure no one was overhearing them were at least somewhat subtle, she had to give him credit for that.

Sinjun's eyes narrowed slightly. She had never had to deal with EarthFirsters and HomeFronters, although her research had informed her about them -- bigoted, heads-in-the-sand fools who thought that isolationism was the best defense. And Mingala Chang was their unnervingly talented mouthpiece, capable of destroying truth with propaganda. "What has she done now?"

"Where do I start? First she gave an interview that effectively trashed any chances of getting her hands on the presidency by allowing that aliens might not be the scourge of the universe. Of course, that was yanked and had the hell cut out of it before it was aired, but too many people know about it. Then she got drunk in the Dark Star; I saw her last night, it was rather amusing. She was very quiet, but babbled to excess."

"You would know," Sinjun muttered. "Will, do the words 'Get to the point' mean *anything* to you?"

William ignored her. "Then she was found outside of her advisor's rooms, nearly beaten to death. They don't know if she's going to survive."

"Forget 'point' and learn 'priorities'!" Sinjun hissed, trying desperately to keep her voice down. "Why haven't I heard about this?"

"You've probably been on stage the whole time this has been out and about. Things have been moving rather quickly. That's not all. The security cams show two Minbari attacking her."

Sinjun had one hand clenched into a knot under the table, nails digging into her palm, to keep her face from showing anything but pleasant enjoyment of spending a few moments with a smitten admirer. "That's impossible," she said flatly. "It's beneath ninety-nine percent of the warrior caste -- they go for the big, grand, stupid gestures. And you and I both know that the religious caste just wouldn't."

William gulped at his drink and nodded. "There's more. There was a shouting match in MedLab. Delenn doesn't think that Minbari attacked Chang. There's some holographic mask thing that could simulate a Minbari face."

Sinjun nodded. Great. Changeling nets and hot-tempered idiots. Wonderful. Just bloody wonderful.

"And Ximenn decided to shut everyone up by announcing that it had been *his* responsibility to kill her. If *he* hadn't done it, no Minbari had."

"He was going to *kill* her? On *my* station?" Sinjun's eyes slitted cat-like with rage. "I'm going to kill *him*!"

"This is the part where we come in," William broke in hastily. "Apparently, Ximenn has had a change of heart, and has convinced Delenn of it. It's to everyone's benefit to find the attackers -- quickly. Delenn sent Lennier to ask me to ask you to help Ximenn." Even the dire events couldn't keep William from being amused at the convulsions their secrecy necessitated at times.

"She wants us to *help* him? Delenn!" It was a quiet wail of anguish.

"Apparently his holy mission has changed from assassinating Mingala Chang to avenging her. How quickly can you get out of here?"

Sinjun glanced around. "Oh, Paulie's going to love this. Let me fake a headache -- although I don't know why I bother, since he won't believe me -- and I'll meet you in the Zen garden in fifteen."

"Right. And I'll get Ximenn." As they rose, William offered Sinjun a cheerful smile. "You never know. This could be fun."