By Perri Smith
Part One -- The Sea of Waking Dreams
April 20, 2259 [To Dream in the City of Sorrows]
Joe met them as they arrived, panting and laughing, at the front of the barracks, "You're late, and you can't come in without food," he told them sternly, obviously playing doorman for the evening.
"We have food," Sinjun protested breathlessly, her face split with a wide smile that bore no resemblance to the pale, sick expression that had scared William so badly a few minutes earlier.
"Absolutely, Kell has food," he echoed, pointing at Kell, who had arrived a bit more sedately with the other three.
Joe studied the tray. "That's not food, that's sugar. "
"If you can put in your mouth, it's food."
"You say that about a lot of things, Will."
William tried to look offended at Joe's dry comment. "Well, I never!"
"That's not what I've heard," Sinjun informed him. Kell and Manny snorted back laughs in unison and Linnat and Kerann exchanged exasperated looks.
"Humans," Kerann said, rolling her brown eyes in a very Human expression of disgust. She'd definitely been hanging around him and Kell too long, William decided. "And the difference between them and a six-year old Minbari would be what, precisely?"
"Not Humans," Sinjun managed through her giggles, which were undignified, but probably the only appropriate response. "Human *males*. Distinct subspecies."
"Here we go," Kell groaned.
"No, we don't," William decided, grabbing Sinjun by the arm and hauling her past Joe into the main room of the barracks. The large room, built to hold about 500 Rangers, was as close to full as it had been in his time there, wall to wall with brown uniforms. The bar was set up across the room and he started to plunge into the crowd towards it, still tugging at Sinjun's hand. It took him a second to realize she was resisting.
"Sin?" He turned back to her, but her smile had reverted to the Minbari-like mask he'd already learned to loathe.
"You go on," she said stiffly. "I'll just, ah, wait here for a bit."
"'A bit' as in 'all night'?" William asked, rolling his eyes. "No way. Come on, Sin, no one's going to try to eat you, promise. Let's get something to drink -- unless you're afraid?"
Her eyes darkened at the jab, and he had another second to wonder if he'd pushed that particular button one too many times. But instead, her jaw set and she shoved her way past him into the room. He breathed a mental sigh of relief, traded knowing looks with Joe, and followed her back.
Her aim was unerring -- she headed straight for the beer, and was halfway through her first glass before William made it to her side. "There was not this much beer left over last night," she said before he could comment on anything. "Don't tell me someone figured out how to set up a distillery."
"Now there's an idea." William helped himself to a glass, leaning casually against the table. "No, we had another shipment come in last night and he stocked up on all the, ah, necessities."
"Shipment?" Her brow creased, then she caught sight of the familiar face a few feet away. "Anric? When did he get in?"
"Early this morning. Didn't you see him at the initiation ceremony?"
"I was a little preoccupied." Sinjun took another gulp of beer.
"Well, his timing was great," Kell said as he joined them, leaning past them to snag a beer for himself, and a glass of something clear and bubbly (and presumably nonalcoholic) for Kerann. "Been meaning to thank you for the lovely induction gift, Anric."
Anric turned as he heard his name, and smiled genially as he walked over to them. "I rather thought you would appreciate the gesture."
"Oh, yes," Sinjun muttered, before draining the last dregs of her glass and turning to grab another. William lifted an eyebrow at her and she sneered back. "Please. I've been working in and around bars since I was 16; earlier if you count boarding school. I can outdrink anyone in this room." William raised his hands in surrender and she wrinkled her nose at him, then asked Anric, "Has anything happened on station since I left?"
"In the two days I was there?" Anric asked, not without a certain amount of humor. "No, I'm sorry to say."
"But what about--" Sinjun started to press.
Will interrupted her without a qualm. "No business tonight, people, we'll have plenty of time to talk shop at the briefings tomorrow. Tonight, we eat, drink and be merry, am I understood?"
The two veteran Rangers turned to look at him sternly, then at each other. "Mouthy, isn't he?" Sinjun commented.
"It is a flaw we have learned to live with," Anric sighed, shaking his head sadly.
"And to enforce those orders," William said loudly over the kibbitzing, gesturing across the room at Manny, who nodded and started over, "we'll just have to keep you busy, Anla'Shok Ross."
Manny appeared next to them and handed over his cargo -- Sinjun's guitar. She looked dubiously from it back to William, who smiled and attempted to look innocent. "Well, you wouldn't have brought it if you didn't want to play it, right?"
Sinjun nailed him with one of the knife-point glares no one on Babylon 5 would have believed her capable of. "I brought it because you and Nalenn ganged up on me, if you recall."
His innocent look definitely needed some work; funny, he'd never had a problem with it before. He shifted gears and tried hopeful with an overtone of 'please don't hurt me', stolen from a lieutenant he'd run into onstation. "Would you really deny you fellow Rangers, your comrades in arms, the delight of hearing the best vocalist on Babylon 5?"
"Cailyn James is the best vocalist on Babylon 5; I'm simply the highest paid." But Sinjun was having trouble holding onto her glare and finally sighed. "All right, all right, I'll be the free entertainment. *This* time."
William very carefully did not change expression until Sin had turned away. Then he flashed a triumphant grin at Kell and Anric -- and had to wipe it off quickly when Sinjun gave him a hard look over her shoulder. Putting the innocent look back in place, he trailed after her as she crossed the room looking for a place to sit.
Whoever had furnished the main room in the barracks had done a good job of it, by Human or Minbari standards. As usual, the Minbari had walked form hand-in-hand with function and produced reasonably comfortable, beautiful results. The walls of the huge round room were almost entirely of glass, as was the roof curving above them, giving a stunning view of the sky as it faded to purple and rose fire, echoed in the colors of the couches and desks. The only things breaking the expanse of windows were the door between them, leading off to the sleeping rooms; computer consoles filled the space under the windows, for studying or for entertainment.
The huge, U-shaped table in the center of the room did equal duty as a poker table (big enough for four separate games, they'd proven it), a debate forum (at which the questions of the universe could be answered, or at least ferociously argued) and its current incarnation, a bar.
But Sinjun headed past the table for one of the couches that were placed around the room, and settled onto the too-firm cushions (Minbari and Humans had different ideas about comfort -- witness the beds). She opened the battered black canvas case and extracted an equally battered six-string guitar. The wood might once have been deep golden brown; it was difficult to tell through the scratches and dents. But when Sinjun, still looking *extremely* unhappy about the whole thing, began tightening and tuning the strings, their sounds was mellow, pure and true.
William settled down on the arm of the couch by Sin's side; Manny, Kell, Joe and Kerann did likewise, carefully staking out an area of space around the singer. Sinjun, frowning ferociously as she tried to tune her E-string, didn't appear to notice.
"If I ever get this thing in tune, I'm going to glue it in place," she muttered as she fiddled with the string, but finally had it fixed to her satisfaction. "Any requests?" she asked, looking up with the same charming and completely unreadable smile she used in Paulie's.
"Lady's choice," Kell said smoothly as William opened his mouth to say exactly the same thing. He frowned at his friend as Sinjun rolled her eyes, then sighed and thought. A few moments later, she began to pick at the strings; Will recognized the song after only a few bars, even before Sinjun began to sing.
"Are you going to Scarborough Faire?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine..."
The husky alto that could fill a bar with smoke was clear and almost sweet as she sang the words to the ancient song. The first notes hit the crowd around them like a stone in a pond, sending ripples of quiet out across the room. One by one, the Rangers began drifting over. By the time she finished the last chorus, almost the entire room was clustered more or less around Sinjun's couch. She looked up as she played the last chord, and looked startled by the light patter of applause from the Rangers standing, sitting and sprawling around her.
She recovered quickly, though, giving them the dignified nod and smile she generally reserved for audiences in Paulie's.
"That was lovely," Linnat praised.
"Needed harmony," Kell kibitzed. Joe kicked him at the same time that Will slapped the back of his head and he ducked for cover, snickering. "At least we know you two were telling the truth about *something*," he informed his assailants.
"And what were they being truthful about?" Sinjun asked severely. Will saw the smile ghosting around her lips, but she was hiding it well.
Kell grinned up at her, leaning against the couch so that his head was at the level of her knees. "They were right -- you *are* good."
That *almost* threw her, but she recovered again and simply snorted. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Reardon."
"Will shutting him up get us another song?" Manny asked cheerfully.
Sinjun wrinkled her nose at him, but complied, stinging out fast, much more cheerful chords. "All right, here's one for our beloved Ranger One," she said with a wicked grin.
"Let me tell you a story about a man and his will
He used to wake up every morning and push the rock up the hill
Then he would look at his labor and he'd be the proudest of men
Next day he'd find the rock at the bottom
And start all over again..."
Several of the older Rangers attempted to look scandalized, but couldn't quite pull it off; the rest gave up and started laughing as Sin swung into the chorus. One laugh in particular sounded very familiar; looking around, William realized that Sinclair had appeared sometime in the last few minutes, hanging off to the edge of the crowd. Sinclair, still chuckling, shook his head in warning at Will, who grinned back and returned to listening to Sin ham it up.
"It's just a human condition
You've got to do what you can
You know I've made some foolish decisions
And then I made them again..."
By the second chorus, most of the room was singing along.
"Such are the dreams that I left behind
They were finer than silk and sweeter than wine
If they don't come back I'm gonna lose my mind..."
They ended on a shout, still laughing helplessly as their applause thundered off of the walls. Even Sinjun had unbent enough to grin. "Thank you, thank you," she nodded regally. "The tip jar is on the piano."
"But the piano's back on B5," Kell pointed out, "so you're out of luck."
Sinjun shrugged philosophically. "Doesn't matter; Rangers don't have any money to speak of."
"Too true." William leaned back against the couch, imitating Kell's boneless sprawl. "Give us another, Sin."
"All right, but *just* one," she agreed. "I'm not warmed up enough to be doing all of this singing, and if my voice is blown when I get back to B5, Paulie's going to have goglings." She fiddled with her tuning again, then began a series of slow, sweet chords. Will once recognized the intro.
"I remember this one; you sang it in Paulie's," he said with pleasure.
"Good, then you can take the second part, since Tony isn't here to do it." Without giving him time to object, she started singing.
"There will be no consolation prize,
This time the bone is broken clean
No baptism, no reprise and no sweet taste of victory
All the stars have fallen from the sky and everything else in between
Satellites have closed their eyes
The moon has gone to sleep.
Unloved, unloved..."
William joined her in the chorus, singing harmony before taking over the second verse. The room had quieted around them in response to either the beauty of the music, or the message of the lyrics. It certainly wasn't for his voice.
"Here I am inside a hotel choking on a million words I said
Cigarettes have burned a hole and dreams are drunk and penniless
Here I am inside my father's arms, all jagged bone and whiskey dry
Whisper to me sweetly now
And tell me I will never die.
Unloved, unloved..."
The last words of the verse came out almost choked, as he looked around the room at his friends. Kerann was leaning her head against Anric's shoulder, while Manny's head rested on her knee. Kell watched soberly and intently from the floor, Linnat just above him, her face quiet. In the far corner, Ranger One's face was grave.
Sinjun took the song back, her voice huskier than usual. But the words came through clearly, proudly... almost triumphantly.
"Here I am, an empty hallway, broken window, rainy night
I am 2259 and I am ready for a fight
People crying hallelujah while the bullet leaves the gun
People falling, falling, falling and I don't know where they're falling from
Are they unloved, unloved...?"
The two voices joined again, tenor with alto, twisting together. William looked into Sinjun's eyes, and smiled in silent promise.
"Hoping that the kindness will lead us past the blindness
And not another living soul will ever have to feel
Unloved..."
As their voices trailed off, she smiled back.
There was more entertainment after Sinjun, over protests, put down her guitar. Three Minbari and a Human, led by Linnat, started the warrior caste equivalent of a drinking song, something about "Beating back the Shadows with only fist and soul". It sounded better in Minbari, of course, but that was the gist. After that, Manny took the stage with something sweet in Spanish, then Kell took his turn with a long, involved shaggy dog story that ended in a pun so awful it had even the Minbari listeners threatening violence. In the commotion, William caught Sinjun's eye and motioned back towards the bar; with a nod, she handed the pillow she'd been beating Kell with to Kerann -- who promptly picked up where she'd left off -- and followed.
Most of the room was huddled around the entertainment, except for the five or six Humans still holding up the bar, several Humans and Minbari clustered around a console (evidently arguing about music, since snatches of melody kept coming out), and Dorann and a Human Ranger, Brian, who were hunched over a console, a game of chess flashing on screen. The game was apparently a bloodthirsty one, judging from their absorbed expressions; Sinjun started to comment, but William dragged her past them and out a side door before she could.
"What gives?" she demanded, outside in the cool, moist night air. "First you force me to socialize, now you drag me away from the party."
"I dragged you away before you could say anything rude to Dorann and start a fight," he informed her. "And *I'm* accused of having a big mouth."
Sinjun shrugged. "It's been a while since I was in a good bar brawl." He rolled his eyes at her and she grinned back, taking his arm companionably. He tried not to show how much the careless gesture from Sinjun, who touched no one and trusted no one, affected him.
"And as for dragging you away from the party," he said, when he was sure of his voice again, "I wanted a bit of time to talk to you before all of the fuss tomorrow."
She gave him a sideways look from beneath her lashes. "And here we are, alone at last."
*Thank Valen,* he wanted to shout, but settled for a wicked sideway smile, wishing fleetingly for his brother's mustache so he could have twirled it. "All to myself. Whatever shall we do?"
"Look at the stars." They'd emerged from the trees into one of the expanses of grass at the edge of the training camp. The ground sloped down the foothills in front of them, leading to Tuzanor; the crystal buildings of the city glowed softly, but not brightly enough to interfere with the shining fabric of the sky.
They sat on the grass, side by side, staring up into the night. "I never get used to it," Will said softly. "The stars above Arisia Colony, I knew them by heart. I always wanted to go out into them, to see them from other places, other worlds. But I never get used to seeing them like this. The same stars, but different."
"What was it like, growing up on a colony world?" Sinjun asked, bringing her knees up to her chest so she could wrap her arms around them. "I spent almost all of my time on Earth, I can't imagine it. Staying in one place all that time, with your family..."
Her voice was wistful, her eyes distant. William's eyes left the stars to watch her. "I didn't think much of it, growing up. It was hard work, always, with very little reward to my way of thinking. I always wanted to be somewhere else."
"Where?"
He shrugged, faintly embarrassed. "It didn't matter. Just somewhere else. Marcus and I used to make elaborate plans to stow away on one of the freighters, to head out into the galaxy and make our fortunes, then return to whisk our parents away to the life of luxury."
"I hate to break it to you," Sinjun teased gently, "but no one ever became rich being a Ranger."
He laughed softly. "That's all right. It's too late anyway." He sobered, loking back at the stars, imagining he could see Arisia from there. He couldn't, of course, but maybe if he looked hard enough... "My parents died, and Marcus came back from the war and took over the business. There was no more talk of running away for him."
Sinjun was still watching him, her cheek laid on her upraised knees. "You miss them."
"My parents or Marcus? Well, both, I guess," he admitted. "It's been a long time since my parents died, but I wonder... I wonder if they'd be proud of me."
"They should be. They've a great deal to be proud of." It was a simple statement, and it made William's cheeks flare red.
"Thank you, but I don't think Marcus is going to agree. He's never approved of me roaming the universe; he thinks I should stay home and help run the business, like him. Slowly kill myself, like him." The edge of bitterness in his voice surprised him, and he rushed to cover. "I love him, and I know he loves me. But he's not.. he's not the big brother I grew up with anymore."
Sinjun lifted one shoulder, not moving another muscle in her body. "No one stays the same, Will. Everything changes, for better or for worse. You changed for the better, finding your dreams instead of just dreaming them. Your brother has to decide what he's changed for."
"Yeah. If he could see me now...." William sighed and stretched out on the grass, rolling to his back. "Do you have any family, Sinjun?"
She shook her head without lifting it from her knees. "None that I care to acknowledge. No siblings, if that's what you mean."
"Yes, that's what I meant. You sounded like you knew what you were talking about."
A lift of one shoulder again. "Observation. Guesswork. Add a fancy vocabulary and a British accent and people assume you know what you're talking about, even when you haven't a clue."
He choked on a laugh, caught by surprise, and had to sit up again. Sinjun cocked her head slightly to watch him, a faint, genuine smile on her face. "You know," she offered as he got control of his breathing again, "trying to impress your big brother is not the best of reasons for joining the Anla'Shok."
"I didn't join *just* for that!" William started to defend himself, before seeing the gleam in her eyes. "Very funny. And why did *you* join the Anla'Shok, Ms. Ross?"
She sighed, and lifted her head enough to rake a hand through her tousled hair. The strands fell back to lie against her neck and cheeks; William resisted the impulse to smooth them himself. "Lack of anything better to do, really," she finally answered.
William nodded sagely. "Oh, that's a much better reason than mine."
She wrinkled her nose at him. "It's more complicated than that, but... I'd been training with the Anla'Shok since I was sixteen, and after I turned eighteen, I started doing small.. well, chores for them off-planet, when they needed to get someplace only a Human could go. By the time Sinclair gave me my isil-zha, I'd already effectively been a Ranger for eight years or more. It was more a formality, really."
Formality. Right. That was why she was unconciously stroking her pendant, why she took her duties so very seriously. He'd thought about the honor of being the first Human Anla'Shok -- but what price had she paid for it?
"Were you alone here?" he asked quietly. "All ten years?"
"Mostly," she answered, terribly offhand. "Oh, Humans started coming through after the first few years, when the fallout from the war died down. There was a graduate student, only a little older than me, only a few years after the war, and others came after him. But none of them ever stayed."
"But you did." A scared teenager on an alien world, all alone....
Some of what he was feeling must have come through in his voice, because she forced a smile. "Oh, don't start feeling sorry for me. Trust me, this was far and away better than what I escaped from. And I wasn't always alone. I had Nalenn, and Mark wrote for a long time after he left. Mostly for more information, but..."
"Mark?" William asked, with a quick flash of something that might have been jealousy if he'd examined it for a moment. But he didn't.
"The graduate student." Sinjun smiled a bit -- not wistfully, not sadly, but not happily, either. "He was one of the first Humans to come to Minbar besides me. He was quite happy to have a 'native guide', so to speak, in me. We got along well."
William wouldn't have asked any questions if his life depended on it. Sinjun seemed aware of his self-restraint and grinned. "Yes, we did, and no, I'm not saying anything more." Another of those one-shouldered shrugs she seemed so fond of -- minimal expression with minimal effort. "I enjoyed him while he was here, but I didn't miss him when he was gone. I had too much else to do." She bit her lip, looking back at William. "Is that a horrible thing to say?"
"It's a human thing to say." She looked so uncertain, so lost, that William finally gave in to impulse. His hand touched her face, smoothing the short hair away from her eyes, and cupping her cheek in his hand. She didn't flinch back, but went perfectly still; William went with his instincts and leaned forward. Their lips met once, quickly, like the brush of a butterfly's wings, then he drew back, ready to apologize.
But Sinjun's hand came up, touching his cheek as he had touched hers. Her eyes drifted shut, and they kissed again, longer this time. William let his eyes close, and his hand slip to the back of her neck, tunneling under the thick waves of her hair. She leaned against him tentatively, trustingly as his arms came around her, pulling her carefully against him.
The kiss could have lasted a minute, or an hour. They finally drew a bit apart, Sinjun not quite meeting his eyes until he got a hand under her chin and forced it up. "None of that. I expect bright smiles and fulsome praise after I kiss a lady."
That did it; she sputtered and tried to smack him. "How about a bucket of water to soak that head?"
Music suddenly blasted out of the barracks a hundred yards behind them, old Earth rock and roll, as the residents finally settled on a choice of entertainment. "Seems you aren't the only person with an affection for Billy Jack," he teased, catching her hands and pulling her to her feet.
"Joel," Sinjun corrected him severely, but allowed herself to be pulled. "Billy Joel, you cultural illiterate."
"Whatever. Come on, let's get back." He started to tug her along behind him, but she resisted. "Oh, are we going to have to go through this again?" he sighed, turning back.
"No," she denied, "I just...." Her voice trailed off and she chewed her lower lip, obviously lost for words.
William took the easy route out and kissed her again. "Come on," he encouraged, smiling down into her hazel eyes. "That party's just starting."
She finally smiled, so widely and so brightly he thought he could fall forward and drown in her eyes. "All right. But I'm not singing again."
He wandered along behind her, admiring the fit of those trousers. "We'll see."
Chapter 12
Earth-Registered Cargo Vessel 'Madonna de las Estrellas' -- En route to Babylon 5
Kell reached for the intercom and managed to activate it without moving any muscles other than the ones in his arm. "Sin's already working on it. Let's keep that landing smooth, all right? No unnecessary bumps, bruises or contusions to your passengers."
"And here I was going to try to make you arrive spacesick."
Kell snorted and turned the intercom back off, relaxing back into his seat. Manny's passenger compartments were almost non-existent, since every square meter that held people couldn't hold cargo. But the chairs, which folded out into couches for sleeping, were fairly comfortable, even if he could sprawl low in one and nearly touch the other side of the room with his feet. There was one window in the compartment, currently opaqued to keep everyone from becoming literally spacesick by staring out at hyperspace for too long, a small rack of datacrystals with books and vids on them (Manny seemed to be fond of 21st century comedies), and a tiny galley with just enough food to keep the three of them fed.
So there was food, non-angled beds, entertainment, and fairly decent company -- everything needed (with the glaring exception of gravity) to make an almost three-day journey comfortable. Manny, whenever he wasn't playing with his beloved ship like a recently reunited lover, was amiable and easygoing to the extreme. Sinjun, away from William's determined influence (and hadn't that farewell kiss Will had stolen been interesting?), was much more withdrawn, choosing to absorb herself in intelligence reports for the vast majority of the trip. But she'd loosened up enough the previous 'night' (it was largely an arbitrary distinction in hyperspace) to share more stories about her time on B5, which was apparently never boring.
The peace had lasted until she woken them all a few hours ago, screaming from a nightmare she refused to discuss, but that had left her hoarse and sweating. Kell would have given large amounts of credits to have had Will there to deal with the situation, but he and Manny had had to muddle along on their own. Fortunately, years of dealing with five sisters had made Kell fairly adept at handling almost anything.
Sinjun had calmed quickly and finally dismissed both of them very firmly, burying herself back in her reports. They'd gone along with her wishes, reluctantly, but it had made for a tense atmosphere within the small ship. Also a silent atmosphere, giving Kell far too much time to contemplate what he was heading into.
The mission looked to be fairly straightforward, at least -- make discreet contact with Security Chief Garibaldi, deliver the message from Ranger One, and bring Garibaldi up to date on the Anla'Shok and their activities onboard station, being careful never to mention Sinjun's name in the process. No sweat; compared to being shot at, which had happened way too often when he'd been with EarthForce, it should be a walk in the park.
"Should be" being the operative words, of course. Kell Reardon was a firm believer in Murphy's Law.
The door to the bathroom slid open behind him. He turned just enough in his seat to see Sinjun emerge, and blinked.
When she'd gone in, she'd been in full Ranger dress, her hair slicked carelessly back from her face as it had been most of her time on planet, and her face clean-scrubbed. But in the half -hour or so she'd been in there, she'd somehow turned her hair into a wavy, tousled mass around her heart-shaped face, and done something sophisticated with makeup that matched the hair, widening her eyes and darkening her lips. With her Ranger browns traded for a loose, flowing dress in deep blue, she suddenly looked less like a fighter and more like... well, like a bar singer.
"So *that's* how you stayed undercover so long," he said, as she pulled herself across the cabin and settled back into her seat, stashing her uniform in one of the small compartments scattered over the room. "Nice."
"In this case, the clothes do make the woman," she agreed, with a smooth curve of her lips. But Kell had seen her smile once or twice before, and this one was charming, but far from real. He bet it fooled everyone on station, though; the woman was good. "Did I hear Manny say ten minutes?"
"Yeah." He watched as she gathered up the last of her data crystals, hiding them in odd pockets of her bag. "You're sure no one's going to notice when you and I both show up on Manny's ship?"
"I'm sure," she answered without bothering to look at him. "Half the station hitches rides with Manny and the other ships with regular trade runs -- it's usually cheaper than the passenger liners and the small ships go places the big ones don't. As long as Manny's affiliation with the Rangers stays under wraps and you wait a bit before you come out after I leave, no one will think twice."
Fair enough. He crossed his arms and slouched a little further down in his seat. His stomach abruptly turned over and Sinjun swallowed heavily. "We're through the jumpgate," she said unnecessarily.
"Great. Any last-minute suggestions for dealing with Garibaldi?"
"Yes. Don't piss him off."
Also fair enough, if not spectacularly helpful. "Got it." The window next to him was slowly turning transparent again, and, since the space inside was not all that comfortable at the moment, he turned his attention to the space outside.
And caught his breath at the first sight of Babylon 5, turning slowly in the light from Epsilon Eridani. It gleamed off the massive round hull and the many ships that surrounded it, darting in and out of its shadows like tiny birds. He spotted a Narn freighter, a few Centauri yachts, several EarthForce Starfuries and freighters, Drazi ships, Pak'mara ships, Markab ships.... Ships from a dozen planets and races, all of them dwarfed by the sheer size of the station. "I'll be damned."
He didn't realize he'd said it out loud until Sinjun half-laughed. "Impressive, isn't it? Wait until you see inside."
"I'm looking forward to it," he said automatically, before realizing that he was telling the absolute truth. This place was special, he knew it instinctively. This station was where everything would begin. And end...
He caught his own sober reflection in the window and shook off the odd thought, wondering where it had come from. The station grew larger and larger before them, until it filled the window and blocked out the sky; then the open mouth of the docking bay swallowed them and Manny piloted them to a perfect landing. The doors closed above them and they began the slow drop to their designated cargo bay, gravity gradually returning as they moved deeper into the station.
"Home sweet home," Sinjun sighed with a certain ironic edge. "God, Paulie's going to be glad to see me -- after he finishes yelling at me for his profit loss over the last week."
"I have to stop in at Paulie's," Kell declared. "You and William have *got* to be making this guy up."
Sinjun wrinkled her nose, putting the strap of her bag over her shoulder and lifting her guitar case as she stood. "Oh, I wish."
Manny appeared in the door to the cabin, dressed in civilian gray trousers and a white shirt that was baggy even on his huge shoulders. "All ashore who's going ashore," he announced cheerfully. "Kell, are you going to help unload?"
"Might as well," he sighed. "It looks like I have some time to kill."
"Well, be careful, both of you," Sinjun cautioned, "and remember, Kell -- Manny and I are not Rangers and we only know you in passing."
He gave her a sketchy salute. "Got it. Get lost. Entil'zha veni."
She sniffed disdainfully and swept out of the compartment, the pose ruined only by the nose she wrinkled at him in passing. Kell rolled his eyes at her back and pulled himself to his feet, resigned to hauling cargo for the next hour.
This was shaping up to be one hell of a way to earn a living.
Sinjun had to fight off an odd sense of deja vu as she left the cargo bay for Customs, buffeted by the passengers leaving the huge liner docked in the next bay over. Surely she hadn't been on Babylon 5 long enough to feel this kind of familiarity, this kind of... comfort. But as the crowd of aliens, mostly Centauri, flowed around her, and she caught sight of Zack Allan standing at one of the Customs gates, she couldn't deny that was exactly what she felt.
Zack, looking even more harried than usual, finished with the Centauri in front of Sinjun and grabbed her identicard while simultaneously snapping orders to two security guards a few feet away. "I said triple check for weapons, contraband, anything that might cause a disturbance. The Chief's gonna..." He suddenly focused on his card reader, and his head shot up to meet Sinjun's amused grin. "Sinjun! Hey, we weren't expecting you back so soon! How'd the job go!"
"Hallo, Zack," she smiled back up at him with an unexpected rush of affection. "The job went fine; the audience was, ah, most appreciative." She changed the subject quickly, before he could dwell on the half-truth. "The place looks just like I left it -- a few more Centauri about, though."
Zack rolled his eyes, blowing his breath out in frustration. "Oh man... We get a message, just yesterday, from Centauri homeworld, and it turns out the Emperor, he's coming here. Arriving today! The chief's having heart attacks trying to get security arranged all over the station, we've got half the Centauri population in three quadrants all trying to get onstation at once, and Commander Ivanova... Well, she's not happy."
Sinjun winced in sympathy -- Warren had told quite enough stories about the Wrath of Ivanova for avoiding it to be one of Sinjun's overriding goals in life. "Oh, dear. That would explain why you're on Customs duty."
"Yeah, well, the Chief wants someone with authority around all the time, in case anyone gets touchy." Zack was doing her paperwork on automatic pilot, Sin noticed, biting back the urge to call him on it. The more distracted Zack was, the easier it would be to keep Rangers moving through. But someday, when this was over, she'd have to point it out. "Here you go, Sin."
She took her identicard back and hefted her duffel. "Thanks, Zack. Don't let the Chief make you crazy."
He snorted. "Too late." She laughed sympathetically and wound her way past the crowd. "Hey Sin!" he shouted after her, and she turned, one eyebrow raised questioningly. He grinned, the wide one that turned his face into a mass of good-natured creases. "Welcome home."
"Thanks, Zack. It's good to be here."
The Zocalo was almost as much of a mess as Customs; Sinjun wove her way through the crowds with habitual skill, her eyes taking in the scene without paying much attention to it, just cataloging for future reference. Yes, lots of Centauri, of all ages and genders; Security in every corner; and there was Ambassador G'Kar, looking as if he'd just swallowed a lemon, but was grimly determined to find some way to make lemonade. She frowned, a warning bell chiming faintly at the back of her mind, but dismissed it in favor of more speed. She had to drop off her luggage, check in at Paulie's, and get a message about this little Imperial visit back to Jeff -- the Anla'Shok Na, she reminded herself firmly -- as soon as possible.
"I knew it," she sighed to herself, shaking her head. "I leave the station for one week and all hell breaks loose. Remind me to rub this in when I talk to Jeff."
Paulie's was definitely feeling the strain of the Emperor's visit as much as the rest of the station -- it was jammed wall-to-wall with Centauri and Humans. Sinjun lingered outside for a moment, feeling the crush of people and noise like a physical force; for just a moment, she missed the quiet peace of Tuzanor and her fellow Rangers. Then, from inside the door, Alain caught sight of her. "Sinjun! Welcome back!"
"Good to be back, Alli!" she called in return, squaring her shoulders and ducking inside. Jamie and Kami both echoed greetings from where they were frantically shuttling drinks, Tony gave a ching-a-ling at the piano, and the three male space jockeys at the bar -- Keffer, Jones and... Dack, that was it -- started shouting, "She's back! Hallelujah!" and variations thereof, while their buddy Kazin looked disgusted, but lifted her glass in a salute. Officer Cal Martinez, standing with them and flirting with Jamie every time she came past, started laughing at the show, but also shouted out a welcome.
Caught by surprise, Sinjun blinked, then forced a wide -- and not entirely fake -- smile, calling back greetings as she worked her way through the crowd. Even in the crush of strangers, she still saw a familiar face nearly everywhere she looked; by the time she made it to the bar, she felt almost battered by the rush of welcome.
"And she's returned to rescue us," Warren joked, slipping an arm around her waist and having the nerve to drop a kiss on her cheek. "One more night of listening to Tony try to pretend he's a decent piano player was going to drive us all to the casino, and Paulie to the poorhouse."
"Hey, Tony does fine behind the piano," Kazin objected, with a sultry smile towards the stage. Tony caught it and winked back without pausing in his playing.
"Like you notice anything about poor old Tony but his bod," Jones hassled his wingman.
Kazin snorted. "Jealous?"
"Paulie's gonna be driven to the poorhouse by jocks like you holding up the bar for three hours on two drinks," Paulie growled around his cigar, without breaking stride in building and delivering drinks. "Ross, vacation's over. Get behind the bar and make yourself useful."
She could have pointed out that she wasn't paid to tend bar, and that her normal shift wouldn't start for another five hours, but that didn't seem to be saving anyone else today. She also could have pointed out that she'd just finished a long trip, but Paulie had had all of his sympathy buttons removed. And she could have pointed out that she *really* needed to send that message to Jeff, but she couldn't do that in public.
So instead, she tossed a wink at the pilots and Cal, waved at the stage, and ducked behind the bar. Paulie tossed her an apron and she slipped it over her head, then built a Jovian Sunspot (who'd come up with *that* name?), two martinis and a beer as the jocks went back to exchanging insults and Tony bounced away on stage.
"Where'd you learn to tend bar?" Kazin asked, leaning so far over the bar that Sinjun was afraid she'd fall over.
"Here and there," Sinjun answered mysteriously, fishing three bottles of Earth-imported Heineken out of the cooler and slapping them on Jamie's tray as she cruised past. Centauri, for some obscure reason, adored Human beer; for an even more obscure reason, they had yet to figure out a way to brew it on their home world.
As Jamie headed back out into the room, Cal got her by one arm and swung her up against him for a quick kiss. Jamie didn't fight and Sinjun watched with amusement, and not a little wistfulness. It had only been five days since she'd seen Will; why did it seem so much longer? Well, it didn't matter, she told herself firmly. He'd be back from Arisia in another two weeks, tops; she'd see him then. No big deal.
"Hands off the help, Martinez," Paulie snarled from the other end of the bar, as Jamie broke away from Martinez with a witchy smile and headed back to her tables with an exaggerated sway of her hips, which was not lost on any of the guys.
Martinez looked injured, holding his hands up innocently, and Kazin tilted her drink at a perilous angle over his head. He jumped back, laughing, and Sinjun shook her head at the horseplay. "Cal, aren't you supposed to be getting your tail worked off by Garibaldi like everyone else?" she asked pointedly.
Martinez looked angelicly innocent again, which he did remarkably well with his dark brown hair and sky blue eyes. "Hey, everyone's got to take a break sometime."
"Half an hour is not a break," Jones pointed out, showing his heavy red hair out of his eyes, where it promptly flopped back.
"It is if the Chief doesn't know about it," Martinez grinned.
"Speak of the devil, there's the Chief now," Warren said loudly.
Martinez suddenly looked hunted. "I wasn't here, no one saw me." Without another word, he pushed his way through the crowd and into the corridor. Garibaldi wasn't there, of course; realizing that, Martinez made an obscene gesture at the knot of pilots still inside. They toasted him in return and he stalked off.
"Now, aren't you glad you came back?" Warren shouted over the ensuing laughter.
Sinjun grinned at him. "Absolutely. There's no place like home!"
And, to her surprise, she meant every word of it.
Kell made his way out of the cargo deck towards Customs carefully, trying not to gawk around him. The identicard Sinjun had produced, with a picture that was him and a name and history that were very definitely not him, burned in his pocket as if it was broadcasting "Arrest me!" to every security guard on Babylon 5. He'd tried to talk Sinclair and Sinjun into letting him use his own, but both of them had been very serious about keeping as little information as possible about any uniformed Ranger in general circulation.
Wherever they'd gotten the identicard -- probably the semi-mythical Paulie -- the guard didn't seem to notice anything odd about it. Kell didn't pay much attention to him, too busy scanning the docking bay around him. Most of his mind was looking for Chief Garibaldi; given what he and Manny had learned from the dockworkers, this was where all the action currently was onstation.
The rest of his attention was simply absorbing the mass of people, of sight and sound and smell, that made up Babylon 5. If anything, the inside was more impressive than the outside. And noisier, a lot noisier.
"Back again, eh?" the guard commented from beside him, without much interest. "That's three times this month."
"I do a lot of business here," Kell answered, taking his identicard back as casually as he could when every nerve in his body was screaming at him to get away from the guard, to find his target and lose himself. Three times? Whose good idea had that little touch been?
The cargo bays were apparently not seeing as much action as the passenger bays at the moment; the guard was bored, and therefore inclined to be useful. "Anything I can help you with?" he asked.
Just then, Kell spotted a tall man, built like a brick wall and wearing a Security uniform, across the way, explaining something to a blonde tourist-type. The face matched the file and the insignia read Chief Warrant Officer, which meant he had, within two minutes of leaving the bay, located one Chief Michael Garibaldi.
Not bad. He smiled smugly without looking back at the guard. "No, thank you, I've found what I'm looking for." Then he moved forward to lose himself in the crowd.
Following Garibaldi turned out to be an interesting job; the man didn't stay in one place for more than a few minutes at a time. He seemed to be constantly switching locations to efficiently and competently stamp out problem after problem, with a patient diplomacy, and only occasional use of blunt force, that seemed strangely out of place, given that Garibaldi looked like the type to shoot first, ask questions if anyone survived. Kell started to see why both Sinclair and Sinjun held the man in such high respect.
Most of the problems the chief dealt with seemed to revolve around Centauri -- *Now there's a shock,* Kell snorted to himself, well aware, as all the Rangers were, of Sinjun's theories regarding Centauri Prime. But the constant activity, and the fact that Garibaldi's job always seemed to put him in the middle of a crowd, made it easy for Kell to follow him -- and damned hard to maneuver him someplace private.
He kept it up for almost an hour, until what seemed like half a platoon of Security guards and several senior officers in full dress uniform (a guard had brought Garibaldi his dress jacket when Garibaldi couldn't get loose from Customs) converged on the Docking Bay 6 debarkation area. Seemed the Centauri Emperor himself was paying a visit, and all bystanders were firmly cleared out. Kell went along with the flow of people out of the bay and through the halls, spilling into what he assumed was the.... Yup, there was the sign, "Welcome to the Zocalo," spelled out in bright neon. Subtle.
He was tempted to give up Garibaldi as a lost cause for the day and head back to _Madonna_ -- someone *had* to get a message about this to the Anla'Shok Na, and Manny's ship had the communications gear necessary -- but some instinct kept him lurking outside the bay. From what he'd seen and heard of Garibaldi....
Uh-huh. Not ten minutes after the senior officers had gone into the docking bay, Garibaldi escaped from the official welcoming and reemerged, snapping orders at the team of security officers who trailed after him like baby ducks after mama. Kell joined the parade at a discreet distance.
"No wonder you and Sin get along," he muttered in the security chief's direction. "You're both obsessive-compulsive workaholics and you both use it to avoid ceremonies. Not that I'm complaining...."
He was still tempted to chuck it for now -- no one had planned on a major disruption like the arrival of a head of state, and it was going to be hard as hell to get the frenetically-busy Garibaldi alone for the amount of time necessary. And getting the news of the Emperor's arrival onstation, something completely unprecedented in Babylon 5's short history, was crucial; the implications, given the suspected involvement of the Shadows with Centauri Prime, and possibly the Emperor himself, were staggering. But....
But Sinjun and Manny would both also know by now, and would be working on getting the news out. Either of them could do it, but only Kell could make contact with Garibaldi. And those nerves, the ones he'd thought he'd left behind with his EarthForce days, the ones that had been reawakened and honed by Ranger training, were telling him that this contact had to be made. There was something coming, something big... something dangerous. The Centauri Emperor had to be right in the middle of it -- which meant he'd most likely brought it to Babylon 5.
They were running out of time. Kell set his jaw and his resolve, and headed after Garibaldi.
Almost an hour and a half later, his resolve was seriously flagging, and his feet were starting to hurt. Garibaldi didn't ever seem to stop moving, dodging from one place on the station to another. He'd checked guard posts, taken pass after pass through Customs, ducked into what was apparently his office every time he was anywhere near it, snarled at a guard named Martinez about goofing off, and gotten reports on the parts of the station he hadn't managed to hit from his second, Sinjun's buddy Allan, and a guard named Dickerson, another one that Sinjun's briefing had mentioned.
Kell had managed to stay with Garibaldi through most of the travels; he'd had to drop back when Garibaldi headed into Blue Sector and some parts of Green -- both restricted access -- but always managed to pick the chief up after he'd left. And he hadn't seen the man surrounded by less than three people in all that time.
It was, in a word, frustrating. The strain of staying in sight without being seen was starting to tell on him, but he reminded himself firmly of the Anla'Shok Na's instructions -- "Get this message to Garibaldi as soon as possible, no matter what it takes" -- and stuck to his job. But he couldn't keep this up much longer; sooner or later, Garibaldi was going realize he was being tailed. Kell was actually surprised he hadn't caught it already.
Or had he?
Kell stopped suddenly as the thought flashed past him. Sinjun was extremely vocal in her admiration of Garibaldi's abilities, and even more so in her admiration of his paranoia. And Kell's Ranger browns were not exactly inconspicuous. So, either Sinjun had been exaggerating -- or Kell was about to be in trouble.
His eyes sharpened as Garibaldi issued some quiet orders to his current contingent, then headed through another doorway. Alone, for the first time in hours. Kell debated seriously with himself for a long second, then, making sure the guards weren't watching, followed as quickly as he could move.
He knew -- *knew* -- that this was a set-up, a trap, and exactly what he would have done himself in Garibaldi's shoes. But the bait to the trap was those few precious minutes with Garibaldi, and Kell couldn't pass it up. Whatever his motives, Garibaldi had just given Kell the chance he'd been hoping for.
The doorway led to a spiral flight of metal stairs, deserted. He heard Garibaldi just in front of him and headed carefully down the stairs in his wake, his own boots nearly silent on the steps. He took a sharp, hasty turn into the corridor --
-- and something hard pressed against the back of his head, accompanied by the very distinctive whine of a PPG charging. A hand grabbed his arm and pushed him around again the wall; Kell had only a second to remember Sinjun's advice about not pissing Garibaldi off before he found himself looking up several inches into the manšs face. And Garibaldi was definitely pissed off.
"Okay, pal. You've got ten seconds to explain why you're following me."
Chapter 13
Babylon 5
Until the shadow fell across it. The light from the sun seemed to dim, although the ships that had suddenly appeared were not big enough to block it entirely. New lights suddenly split the sky -- then split the station, weapons cutting it open with surgical, horrible skill.
Misshapen ships, black as night and reflecting the sun with an oily gleam, advanced, casually brushing away the assaults of the tiny ships as they raced to defend their home. The defenders' efforts meant nothing -- both they and their home were destroyed with the same careless ease.
She screamed and tried to lash out, but there was nothing to fight with, only anger and fear and horror. Nothing to these enemies. She heard voices screaming, crying out "all wings attack!" and they attacked and they died "What are they?" and the ships ignored them except to kill them "Keep them away from the colony!" purple light lashing out fire leaps from the ships fragments floating off "What do you want?" another ship arriving death on a black spider light reaching out "Who are you" dying "Help us!" death ending black empty....
... and she woke, her scream echoing from the walls of her rooms. It seemed as if it took hours for Sinjun's muscles to relax from the paralysis of terror, another hour for her breathing to stop rasping in her lungs, for the sweat to stop dripping down her face. Her BabCom unit was blinking persistently, casting weird, shifting shadows throughout the room that added their own surreal touch to the lingering dream.
"Lights, 50 percent," she ordered, barely able to recognize her own hoarse voice.
The lights came on dimly, illuminating the empty room. No monsters, no ships, no dying bodies begging her for help... She closed her eyes and shuddered, swallowing hard, then sat up, pulling her legs from under the twisted sheets and burying her face in her hands.
She'd had to fight long and hard to get away from Paulie's long enough to grab a few hours' sleep and now she was deeply regretting it. The nightmare had been her worst yet, even worse than the one on Manny's ship coming back -- the one where the deathships had clustered around her, battering her back and forth as if trying to absorb her into them. She'd woken to find Kell and Manny hunched over her, their faces dark with concern, and would have given quite a lot to have them here now.
"But it was only a dream," she told herself sternly, her voice still strained and very unconvincing. "Just a dream, damn it."
She forced herself to her feet and staggered over the to BabCom terminal, blinking its steady "Incoming Message Recorded" signal at her. "Play incoming message," she ordered.
Tony's concerned face blinked at her, the hustle and rustle of Paulie's behind him. "Wakey, wakey, Sin. You're late getting back and Paulie's muttering threats about firing both of us if you don't show. Hustle it, kiddo."
"Hell and damn," she swore as his face blinked off. "What time is it?" The computer obediently flashed up station time and Sinjun swore again. 2200 hours -- she was more than two hours late getting back to Paulie's. She was dead.
Her own phrase caught her and she shuddered again, then determinedly threw it off, starting the mad dash to dress again and restore her hair and makeup. If she moved quickly enough, she could make second set and keep Paulie from choking on his own cigar.
As she raced out the door, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were still wild, still shadowed, despite the perfect makeup around them. And as she looked at her own eyes, she heard the voice echoing from the dream. "Who are you?" it asked.
And she didn't know what to answer.
The door closed behind her, leaving her room empty but for the shadows.
Kell Reardon paced his restraining cell -- not a very satisfying exercise, since he could only go four steps before he ran into a wall and had to turn around. This did not lead to working off tension.
Judging from the sounds that leaked through his cell door, something very interesting had been happening in the station outside in the last few hours, and he wasn't out there to see it! The knowledge that Sin and Manny were probably on top of things was less than comforting, since it was supposed to be *his* job.
*But your first job was to talk to Garibaldi,* he reminded himself. *Just because doing that got you stuck here....*
He abandoned that train of thought to pound on his door again. "Come on, people, I just need five minutes with Garibaldi!" he hollered towards the a/v pickup in the upper corner.
His efforts were rewarded by the screen embedded in the wall flickering to life. Sgt. Allan, looking ready to punch out the next person who gave him trouble, glared at him from the screen. "Look, the Chief has a few things on his mind other than dealing you, so shut up and calm down," Allan snapped impatiently.
"Damn it, this is *important*!" Kell informed the sergeant, who was supremely unimpressed. *I could get out of here in three seconds just by saying Ranger One's name, which I'm not supposed to say to anyone but Garibaldi, who I can't see without using Ranger One's name. This *stinks*!*
"Sorry, pal," Allan informed him unsympathetically. "The Centauri Emperor collapsing in the middle of a ceremony outranks a sneak thief on the priority list. Relax and we'll get around to you later."
The screen went off before Kell had the chance to finish yelling, "I am *not* a thief!" And not that great of a sneak either, apparently. He stalked back to his bench, the only other piece of furniture in the room, and slumped down.
The Centauri Emperor had collapsed. Like an assassination attempt, like a heart attack... Define 'collapsed', damn it, Allan. Did Sin know, had she gotten word to Sinclair yet? What was this going to mean to their theory that the Centauri were allied with the Shadows? Who would succeed the Emperor if he died? Were the Narns involved in the collapse? The Shadows?
There being no oracle immediately available to answer his questions, Kell went back to pacing.
*Damn it. Sinjun and Will are *never* going to let me live this down.*
Sinjun raced through the station as quickly as her high heels would allow her to move. The atmosphere of the station soon caught her, slowing her as she took in how much everything had changed in the last four hours.
The Centauri who had been happily getting drunk hours before were now quite thoroughly drunk -- and not all happy. But in one corner of the casino sat Ambassador G'Kar and Ambassador Mollari -- and G'Kar seemed more than happy, almost jubilant, and it was aimed at Ambassador Mollari, who looked shell-shocked, looked as if....
Mollari sipped his drink, as if he barely realized it was there, then his eyes suddenly lifted and met hers -- for only a split second, but she shuddered under their impact. The shadow she had seen around him once before had descended again, dark and malevolent as the things she'd seen in her nightmares....
She tore her eyes away and raced for the warmth and light of Paulie's.
Which was full of more drunk Centauri -- big surprise that. There were no happy pilots or shirking Security personnel this time; her arrival went unheralded by anything but a snarl from Paulie.
"Tony?" she hissed as she hit the stage. "What's happening, what's going on?"
Tony looked at her grimly from behind the piano, already starting the intro to 'Stormy Weather'. "The Centauri Emperor -- he's in MedLab. He collapsed on the way to a reception and he's not expected to live."
"In Valen's name." The oath came out almost silently, inaudible over the piano; thank Valen she hadn't turned the mic on yet. Sinjun recovered quickly, sliding into the song on automatic pilot as her mind kicked into high gear, shuffling probabilities and consequences.
"Don't know why
There's no sun up in the sky
Stormy weather,
Since my man and I ain't together
Keeps raining all the time...."
Any way she looked at it -- assassination by Centauri, assassination by Narn, assassination by Shadow, even death by natural causes -- this could not be a good thing. Who would take over the Centauri government? Not the good guys, she'd put a considerable number of credits on that, as if anyone even knew who the good guys were anymore, besides the Rangers.... Oh, God, it was starting.
"Life is bare
Blooming misery everywhere
Stormy weather
Just can't get my poor self together
I'm wary all the time...."
The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach got worse and worse, until she wasn't sure how she was keeping it off of her face, out of her voice. It wasn't improved when Cal Martinez appeared on rounds, stopping only long enough to tell Paulie to close down on time and to hug Jamie.
And to mention the man Security had picked up for following Garibaldi, who was currently sitting in the brig.
"All I do is pray
The Lord above will let me
Walk in the sun once more..."
*I'm out of it for three hours and the station collapses,* she thought absently as she watched the two Security guards leave, and tried to force her tired, still-reeling mind to make plans. *I may never sleep again.*
"I am never going to sleep again."
Garibaldi stared at his own wavering reflection in the computer screens on his desk. An extremely tired man stared back, his face set in lines that hadn't been there a few days before. Hell, a few *hours* before.
Before the Centauri Emperor collapsed on Michael Garibaldi's watch.
He rubbed his eyes fiercely and tried to concentrate on the reports in front of him, expecting another 'what the hell is going on?' call from Ivanova any second; they'd been coming in with increasing regularity for the last two hours. He had people scouring every inch of the Emperor's quarters, every centimeter of the path he'd taken from the second he came onboard the station. The only time he'd been alone had been on the Observation Dome with Sheridan, who even Garibaldi cleared of any motive to assassinate an emperor. There were no traces of poison available to initial scans, no one had been anywhere near the Emperor when he collapsed except his guards and his wives -- telepaths who would have spotted anything resembling a murderer, even if the guards missed it accidentally or deliberately.
Which left two explanations -- a killer so good Garibaldi couldn't even figure out how he'd done it, much less who it was; or natural causes, which left Garibaldi sitting on his hands, staring at his computer screens as Emperor Turhan died. On his station. And all hell was about to break loose. On his station. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
He sighed heavily, then looked up as his door slid open and Zack came in, looking as rumpled as Garibaldi felt. "Chief? The prisoner's asking to speak to you again."
It was a sign of how tired Garibaldi was that it actually took a second to remember who 'the prisoner' was. Oh, right, guy in the brown outfit with the sloppy tail and the big mouth. Damn. "Zack, give me a break. You know what kind of day it's been."
"He says it's important," Zack said apologetically. Garibaldi rubbed his eyes again and gave in. It wasn't like anything could make this day worse. Maybe a distraction would actually help. And maybe the prisoner would do something nice like try to make a break for it so Garibaldi could take some frustration out on him.
"Okay, fine," he groaned. "Send him in." He tried to focus his weary eyes on the computer during the time it took Zack to lean outside the door and bring the guy in. Then he leaned back in his chair, his chin propped on one hand, and tried to look alert. Not easy.
The guy looked about the same, sure as hell less worse for wear over the last few hours than Garibaldi. Same brown clothes that made him look like a refugee from some Robin Hood convention, same intense air of *I have to say something really really important.* Every other guy who came through Security had that exact same expression. "All right, you got five minutes."
The guy looked furtively at the still-open door -- good old Zack, probably listening in to make sure nobody got the drop on his chief -- then reached into a pocket under his belt and pulled out a data crystal. "I was sent to find you," he said, more than a little melodramatically in Garibaldi's opinion. "I have a message for you."
He held it out like it was the Holy Grail; unimpressed, Garibaldi looked from it back up at the guy, whose almost-certainly-fake identicard named him as one Jason Holmes. 'Holmes' waited, then impatiently set the crystal down on Garibaldi's desk with a very definite 'clink'. "I believe it will explain everything."
Uh-huh. Explanations. Great. The only explanations Garibaldi was currently interested in had to do with the guy dying in Medlab. But what the hell, maybe the secrets to the universe really were on that crystal; 'Holmes' sure looked like they were.
He gave in and took the crystal, forcing his body to get out of the chair and cross to the reader on the wall. The crystal clicked into place, the screen flickered -- and Garibaldi's heart damn near stopped.
"Hello, old friend," Jeffrey Sinclair said. "It's been a while."
Kell took a certain amount of not-quite-malicious pleasure in the expression on Garibaldi's face as the security chief took in the image on the monitor. His gaze snapped to Kell, who tried to get all traces of smug justification off of his face, and thought he'd succeeded.
Garibaldi's expression, for his part, had been wiped clean of the impatience and forced tolerance he'd had since Kell had walked into his office. His face was suddenly alert and assessing, and not a little suspicious.
Without a word, he paused the crystal's playback and walked to the door, closing it firmly. Kell lifted his eyebrows in approval, but didn't say anything. Still silently, Garibaldi crossed back and resumed his position in front of the screen, starting the message playing again. Kell tried to pay as much attention as Garibaldi, curious as to what Sinclair had to say -- and knowing Sinjun would want every detail. But the events of the last few hours were catching up to him; combined with the relief of delivering his precious message, his knees almost went out on him.
Onscreen, Ranger One kept speaking; he'd framed the shot to hide his uniform, which was probably a good thing. "I'm trusting this message to an associate of mine who is sworn to bring it to you at any cost--including his own life."
Kell tried not to swallow audibly. *Well, yeah... but you don't have to put it that bluntly, boss.*
"My job on the Minbari homeworld is more than just representing Earth. The President doesn't know about that part yet, and... I don't think it would be wise of you to tell him."
*Oh really?* Kell's ears perked up, but Garibaldi didn't appear to notice. In fact, he didn't even seem to be aware anyone else was in the room, his concentration of Sinclair was so intent.
"There's a great darkness coming, Michael," Sinclair continued. "Some of the Minbari have been waiting for it a long time. The bearer of this message is one of my Rangers. Some are Minbari. Most are humans. They have been drawn here to learn to work together and prepare for the fight ahead."
"Pause." Garibaldi looked at Kell, questions already forming behind those sharp cop eyes.
Kell nodded confirmation before Garibaldi could ask any of them. "We've been here for almost two months now, keeping an eye on things." Well, Sinjun had, at any rate, not that Kell had any intention of getting specific. "We are an army, Mr. Garibaldi. We're small, but we're growing."
It was suddenly urgently important to get Garibaldi to understand. Kell hadn't been sure why Sinclair had been so determined to let Garibaldi in on the secret, but meeting the security chief, dealing with the determination and intelligence behind the man's deceptively thug-like appearance, he suddenly had an idea of the kind of ally Garibaldi could be. And what kind of an enemy.
*Damn, but he'd make a helluva Ranger.*
Which was confirmed with Garibaldi's next question. "An army needs weapons -- are they coming through here?" *And who do I have to kill to stop it?* was the implied continuation.
"No," Kell assured him, entirely truthfully, since weapons weren't what they were brokering through Bab5. "But we do have friends here and that's all I can say for now." *Or Sinjun will rip my lungs out through my nose and feed them to me.*
Garibaldi didn't like that, not even a bit. His jaw tightened, worked, but he finally turned back to the screen. "Resume."
"Their job, for now," Sinclair continued, "is to patrol the frontier, to listen, to watch, and to return with reports too sensitive to trust to regular channels. They are my eyes and ears. Where you see them, you see me. In the name of our friendship, I ask that you give them every courtesy and cooperation. "
*Oh no, no pressure here.* Kell mentally rolled his eyes in the general direction of Minbar.
"I wish I could tell you more... I wish I could warn you. But the others don't think it's time yet." Sinclair looked torn, then said very carefully, "Stay close to the Vorlon, and watch out for shadows. They move when you're not looking."
Kell snorted softly. *What moves, the Shadows or the Vorlons? Can't say I'm thrilled about *either* of 'em. Creatures of death or intergalactic know-it-alls -- not much of a choice.*
The message ended abruptly and Garibaldi blinked at the screen a few times, then turned to look at Kell, eyes wide and jaw slightly open, as if the impact was just hitting him. "Well, I'll be a son of a...." His link chimed before he could finish what Kell was sure would be an extremely obscene description; Garibaldi blinked again, but hit the link in what looked like reflex. "Yeah."
Allan's voice came over the link, accompanied by the sounds of growling and panic. "We've got a yellow alert in the ambassadorial wing," he announced, more than a little panicked himself. "We need help fast. It's G--"
His voice cut off abruptly and Garibaldi shouted for him a few times before giving up. "Damn it! What else is gonna get screwed up today?" He looked from the link to Kell, torn, and Kell took a step back, leaving the path to the door clear.
"Go, Mr. Garibaldi. This will keep for a little while longer." *Yeah, at the rate we're going, I'm sure we've got, oh, at least a day before the universe self-destructs....*
Garibaldi didn't look happy, but finally nodded with more than a little frustration, checking his PPG as he headed for the door. "All right, your references are just about the best, so you're released on your own recognizance. But stop following people around and stay available. I want to talk to you."
"That's my job, Chief Garibaldi," Kell informed his back. "And a swell job it is," he sighed to the now-empty room. With a backward glance at the screen, and a mental raspberry Jeffrey Sinclair's way, he wandered out of Security.
But not too fast. There were still an awful lot of people in Security, shouting back and forth. Who knew what a departing visitor might hear on the way out?
The determinedly upbeat notes of 'Nice Work If You Can Get It' bounced through Paulie's, but no one was listening, for which Sinjun was extremely grateful. Security's obvious presence throughout the night had rid the Zocalo (and Paulie's) of all but the most determined drinkers, which gave Sinjun lots of time to think. And worry.
That worry was only partially alleviated when Kell Reardon finally came through the front door, brushing past Alain who, at 1 in the morning, couldn't have cared less. Sinjun finished the song, not realizing she'd been unconsciously speeding up the tempo until Tony finished with a flourish and gave her a dirty look, shoving his blond ponytail out of his face. She gave him an apologetic look back and left the stage as Paulie announced last call.
"Where the hell have you been?" she hissed through a sweet smile as she casually seated herself at the bar next to Kell.
"Security," Kell replied through gritted teeth. "This station is going insane."
"So what else is new?" Sinjun groaned. "Anything specific besides the Emperor collapsing at his own reception? Or you getting caught by Garibaldi?"
Kell flushed. "Word travels fast."
"On this station? Oh yes. I *warned* you to be careful."
"I *was* careful," Kell shot back. "Getting caught was the only way I could manage to get within earshot of the guy. In case you hadn't noticed, it's a little nuts out there."
Sinjun gave him a disgusted look. "Whatever. Did you get the message delivered?"
"Yes, I got the message delivered," Kell said in a sing-song mimic of her accent. "Garibaldi knows who the good guys are now -- at least, some of us," he finished pointedly.
Sinjun shrugged it off. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."
"No, but it may hurt you."
Sinjun shrugged again, uncomfortably. She'd deal with Garibaldi if and when it became necessary. "What did Garibaldi say? Did he give you anything to take back to Jeff?"
Kell lifted an eyebrow at her use of the Anla'Shok Na's first name. "No, but he got distracted. Some disturbance in the Ambassadorial Wing; he lit out of there like--"
"Shh!" Sinjun cut him off hastily, then looked towards the door of Paulie's with a bright smile. "Coreen! Anita!"
The two security guards -- one a solid looking woman with ebony skin, the other a compact, strawberry blonde -- returned Sinjun's greeting with tired waves. "Hey, Sin," Coreen Dickerson said, leaning tiredly on the bar. Kell had picked up his drink and discreetly moved a few seats over. "Orders from the Chief," she told Paulie after draining half of the glass of ice water he set in front of her. "Everyone closes down early tonight -- 0130 curfew until further notice."
Normally, the mere mention of the word 'curfew' sent Paulie into a frothing fury. Tonight, he only clenched his teeth more tightly around his cigar and nodded. "Already gave last call."
"Great," Anita Lacey grinned, with only a flicker of her usual perkiness. "I wish the casino was as good about it; it's gonna take hours to kick everyone out."
"Bad night out there," Sinjun commented, trying to look tired instead of interested. "Any news of the Emperor?"
Coreen shook her head. "Critical condition is what we're supposed to pass around. Between you and me, I don't think he's gonna make it until morning."
"Damn," Sinjun swore, quite sincerely, under her breath.
"Ambassador Mollari almost joined him," Anita commented, turning her glass and staring, mesmerized, into the ice cubes, her eyes glazed with fatigue. The small woman must have been on duty for nearly 12 hours, Sinjun calculated absently.
"Mollari?" she commented out loud. "What's he done?"
"Got done unto," Anita corrected. "Ambassador G'Kar went tearing through the halls on a rampage after Mollari's head. Would have got it, too, if the Captain hadn't calmed him down."
Sinjun blinked. "G'Kar went after Mollari? And the Captain stopped him?"
Anita nodded. "It was incredible. G'Kar's standing there ready to rip anyone who gets in his way apart, and the Captain just gets in front of him and stares him down. Amazing."
"And not for public knowledge," Coreen finished with a glare at her younger partner, who just rolled her eyes.
Sinjun held up her hands in a 'trust me' gesture. "I heard nothing," she lied without a twinge of guilt, already composing her report. What the hell had Mollari done?
Coreen finished her glass, then gestured to Anita. "Come on, kid, we've got to hit the casino. 0130, Paulie."
"Got it."
"Good night, guys," Sinjun called after them, then sat up straight on her barstool as Manny Chang almost ran into the retreating guards.
"What is this, a convention?" Paulie growled. "I told you, Ross..."
"Stifle it, Paulie," Sinjun ordered absently, ignoring her boss's low growl before he left the bar to begin rousting the last of the drinkers. "Manny? What's up?"
Manny's usually cheerful face was set and sober as he held out a data crystal. "Want the long version or the short version?"
"Short," Kell said, back on the stool next to Sinjun and leaning forward intently.
"All right. A Narn colony in Quadrant 14 has been completely wiped out. The Centauri have taken control of the station, and the Narn don't know if there are any survivors. And they are really unhappy about it."
The other two Rangers gaped at him for a long moment. "Son of a bitch," Kell finally breathed. "This day... night just keeps getting better."
Which seemed to sum up the situation admirably. "How... how did you find all this out?" Sinjun finally managed to ask.
Manny's face got grimmer, if possible. "Off an open transmission from the Narn homeworld to Ambassador G'Kar. They didn't even *try* to encode it."
"Oh, *hell*." Sinjun closed her eyes, trying to absorb the ramifications. One word dominated them -- war.
"The Narn will go to war over this," Kell echoed her thoughts.
"Yes, they will," Manny nodded.
"Yes, they will," Sinjun agreed, only a beat behind Manny. "Manny, did the Centauri use Shadow ships to attack?"
"Nothing on the transmission," Manny said, "but it happened so fast, and the station was so completely disabled...."
"We've got to do something," Kell said, his voice low, but no less intense for the lack of volume.
Sinjun shook her head, although her heart and gut agreed. "There's very little we can do. We haven't even got the ships ready yet, much less Rangers to crew them, even if we could tip our hands this early on. Unless the Minbari or EarthGov decide to interfere--"
"--which they won't," Kell inserted.
"--which they won't," Sinjun continued, tilting her head in acknowledgment, "the Narn are on their own. Unless...."
The other two men waited impatiently for her to complete her sentence; she ignored them. The shock was beginning to fade, her mind working fast and furiously. Maybe they could do something.... Maybe.
"Kell," she said finally. "Go find Garibaldi. Get him alone, whatever it takes, and tell him."
Kell looked at her. "Tell him what?" he demanded.
"Everything you have to, nothing you can get away with leaving out," Sinjun said steadily. "About the Shadows' connection to Centauri Prime... and to this attack and the one on Ragesh 3. Tell him, and tell him to pass it along to Commander Ivanova and Captain Sheridan. And Ambassador Delenn, just to keep appearances up."
Kell's lips formed a round 'O', then tightened as he saw where she was going. "You think they'll be able to use it?"
"If anyone can figure a way, it's Sheridan," Sinjun returned with grim humor. "I have faith in his ability to do the greatest possible damage with the smallest possible ammunition."
"Aren't we going to check with the Anla'Shok Na first?" Manny asked, probably more because he thought someone should than because he actually thought he'd get an affirmative answer.
He was right; Sinjun shook her head. "There's no time. Manny, send that transmission to Minbar off right away -- better yet, get Lennier to send it on one of the Gold Channels -- but whatever happens here, will happen quickly. By tomorrow, probably. Tell Garibaldi everything," she returned her attention to Kell. "If the Anla'Shok Na or the Gray Council have a problem with that, they can take it up with me."
Something in her voice must have impressed the other two; both men stood and half-bowed on their way out. Sinjun barely noticed, staring broodily into the remains of Kell's drink.
"And may Valen guide us through the Shadows," she finally sighed, toasting thin air, then emptying the glass before getting up to help Paulie close. She needed him in a better mood to get access to the back room, and she had work to do.