By Perri Smith

Prologue -- Fire in the Hole

April 9, 2250
Mars Colony

The Glory Hole was your basic, average, everyday bar on Mars Colony. Well, as average and everyday as anything on Mars Colony got. Although it had been established almost 200 years earlier, and been a going concern for 150 of those years, certain areas of the colony still took pride in being part of the 'frontier' -- and generally did their best to live up to the image. Or rather, down to it.

Which meant the Glory Hole that night, like every other night, was packed to the seams with miners, engineers, terraformers, soldiers and everyone else who had no interest or no funds to leave Dome 3 for Dome 1. Three bartenders and five barmaids fought to keep up with the traffic, voices were raised in agreement or argument (it didn't matter which), and a piano banged out over the chaos, accompanying a young singer who was being ignored by everyone in the room except those close enough to the stage to harass her. She, in turn, did her best to ignore them.

Fortunately, that left everyone occupied enough that they didn't pay much attention to the hooded stranger who slipped in the front door. He made his way through the crowd with a minimum of fuss, trying not to call attention to himself, but still made steady progress through the sea of Human bodies towards the stage.

For a moment, he was able to hide in the crowd, and simply observe the young Human on stage, to make sure of what his instincts already told him were true. He recognized the hair first, then the voice, and finally the eyes. Yes; this was who he'd been looking for.

She was too young by many years to be inside the bar, much less working there. Her face was tight with strain that sat badly with her youth, but she sang as if she wasn't aware of the propositions and insults being thrown her way by the members of her 'audience'. There was a restrained desperation about her that the stranger remembered well -- and disliked as much as he ever had.

Voices rose suddenly next to him, disturbing his silent observation. "...call me a cheat!" a man exclaimed, rising from his chair so fast he kicked it over.

"Yeah, that's what I called you!" the woman he'd been playing cards with shouted back, rising as well. "You've been bottom-dealing all night!"

The man smiled viciously. "Maybe you'd prefer to play... something else," he suggested with a leer.

"Not with you," the woman sneered back. "Just give me back my money and get out of my sight!"

"Not likely." The man gestured over her shoulder, and two more men suddenly came out of the crowd, grabbing the woman from behind. The stranger moved instinctively to interfere, but caught himself. He had a more important mission here.

And, as it happened, the woman could take care of herself. With a swift and brutal kick backwards, she crippled one of the men holding her, tore loose, and flattened the other with the bottle she grabbed from the table in front of her. The sound of breaking glass seemed to be a signal, as the room exploded into violence.

The stranger tried to get to the side, to avoid the growing brawl, but a chair flew through the air and caught him on the side, sending him staggering into the bull of a man whose cheating had started the trouble. The man caught the stranger at the shoulders and shoved him away; the stranger staggered against a table, nearly falling -- and felt his hood slip away, revealing his bald head and the distinctive bone ridge surrounding it.

"Son of a bitch!" the man he had stumbled into cursed. "A bonehead!"

"Please," the Minbari said quietly, "I do not wish any trouble. I wish only to leave."

"Oh, you'll leave soon enough," the man promised, moving forward with the light of violence and rage in his eyes. "I've killed you lousy bastards before; it'll be my pleasure to get rid of another one."

The quarters were too small for his fighting pike, so the Minbari braced himself in the traditional fighting stance as the man continued to advance. But as the man pulled back his fist to attack, something long and heavy smashed over the back of his head. He staggered, then toppled heavily to the floor.

The young singer bent over from the stage, the stand for her microphone still braced in her hands. Her eyes went wide with shock as she realized who she'd just defended. "*Nalenn*?"

"Yes," he answered calmly, settling his hood back in place as if they were in the middle of a diplomatic reception rather than a bar fight. "Hello, Sinjun."

"'Hello, Sinjun?'" St. John Rosselyn echoed in disbelief, scrambling off the stage to stand in front of Nalenn, putting herself between him and the rest of the fight. "Nalenn, what are you *doing* here! You shouldn't be here, this place is dangerous for Humans, much less Minbari! You have to go, now!"

"I will leave only when I have what I came to find," he answered calmly, sidestepping a flying body.

"And what the hell would that be?" the girl shot back, her face twisted with frustration and fear. The fight raged up against her back, and she turned long enough to slam her elbow into the face of an attacker. The move was unpracticed and clumsy, but accomplished the desired result. The woman dropped.

"I came for you," Nalenn told her as if the whole thing had never happened. "We will leave together or not at all."

"I can't leave, I *work* here!" the girl started to shout. Then two more bodies came hurtling at them; both sidestepped and Sinjun kicked one of the bodies to give him a little extra push. Two heads met the side of the stage and dropped unconscious. "On the other hand," Sinjun continued, breathing hard, as the shrill sound of sirens began to wail outside the bar, "this looks like an excellent time to exit stage left. Come on!"

Nalenn followed the girl along the stage, deftly avoiding the sea of struggling, swearing, bloody bodies that continually threatened to overwhelm them. Sinjun plowed through them and through a small door, marked 'Authorized Access Only'; as soon as Nalenn was through, she locked the door and sagged against it for a moment.

"The fight'll be over as soon as security shows up," she told Nalenn, panting. "but my boss is going to be pissed. And if anyone else saw you here, there's going to be all bloody hell to pay. You've got to get the hell out of here!"

The profanity suited the looks of the girl, with her tousled hair and ripped dress, but the clipped British accent did not. Nalenn ignored the discrepancy as unimportant, and focused on the girl. "I told you," he answered, "I leave only with you."

Sinjun rolled her eyes, and jolted forward as something slammed into the door behind her. "Oh, *hell*," she swore. "Come on!"

There was a back entrance to the small storage room; Sinjun wrenched it open and slammed it behind the two of them. "Walk casual," she ordered Nalenn over her shoulder. "Maybe no one will notice where we came from." She led the way through the alley onto the street, where a small mob of uniformed officers were beginning to herd people out of the bar. The two were able to mingle with the crowd and slip away.

As soon as they were away, Sinjun pulled Nalenn onto a quiet street, and turned to face him, hands on her hips in a stance that would have been far more intimidating if she had been six inches taller than her five feet and ten years older than her fifteen. "All right, Nalenn, what the hell is going on? Why are you here, how did you find me. And *don't* try to tell me you're here to take me home, because I won't go!" Her voice rose to a panicked shout, echoing faintly off the dome a hundred feet above them. "You can't make me go back!"

"I have no desire to make you go back," Nalenn said quietly. "I have come to take you somewhere else, if you are willing to come. I've come to take you to Minbar."

That stopped her cold. She gaped at him, her mouth working soundlessly, and it was a long moment before she could actually force words out. "M-Minbar?" she finally stuttered. "I can't go to Minbar. Humans aren't allowed..."

"You will be," Nalenn assured her. "I have seen to that."

She blinked. "Oh. Great. You've seen to it." With a growl of frustration, she whirled away from him and began stalking down the street, her footsteps thumping off the concrete below them. "Did you bother to think about whether I might not *want* to go to Minbar? Maybe I'm happy here!"

"Here?" Nalen inquired politely, keeping pace with the girl effortlessly. "I can see how wonderful it is for you. How safe and rewarding a career you have chosen."

"It pays the bills," Sinjun shot back without slowing, "and I don't have to sell anything but my voice and some of my pride. And it's certainly one *hell* of a lot better than being back on Earth with that bastard--" She had to stop to regain control of her voice, swiping at her eyes with one hand. "--with that *bastard* who calls himself my father."

She must have been humiliated that her voice broke on the curse; Nalenn carefully did not notice the break, or her angry tears, to let the girl save as much face as possible. "Only you can decide whether this is better or worse than what you left," he told her carefully, "but I can offer you another choice."

"Choice?" Her laugh was wild, not quite sane. "I don't have any choices, Nalenn, I never did!"

"You have and you do," he said firmly, breaking the rules of a lifetime to take the girl's arm and swing her to face him. "I can give you a choice between running away from your past, or running towards a future. You have only to make the decision."

Her breathing was rough, coming in spurts, but she was listening, oblivious to the tears running down her cheeks. Nalenn saw them, and his heart broke a little, but he kept the sympathy off his face.

"Why?" she asked, her voice choked. "Why did you find me, why do you care what I run from? I'm not even Minbari, just a Human kid you knew for a few days a few years ago. What's in it for you?"

Nalenn considered his answers carefully. "I found you because you are in need, and because you are needed. I care what you run from because I do not wish you to be required to run from anything. And as for 'what's in it for me'..." He smiled at her, gently. "For me, would be seeing a smile from the 'Human kid' I knew for a few days a few years ago, whose face I have carried fondly with me. For me, would be offering her a choice I was helpless to give the first time we met."

She looked at him with disbelief, and a growing hope so fragile he was almost frightened to breathe, for fear it would shatter. "What choice, Nalenn?" she finally asked, so quietly he almost could not make out the words. "What choices do I have?"

"To spend your life running away.. or to choose your ground, and stand and fight."

"To fight what?"

He smiled, a little sadly. She didn't understand yet, but she would. "Darkness. Yours and others." He sighed slightly, a human gesture, but a comforting one. "I cannot promise you peace, Sinjun, I only wish I could. And I cannot promise you ease, although I would give it if it were in my power. But I can promise you life, if you will trust me. And I can promise you hope."

A Human would have held out his hand; Nalenn only held her eyes. Hers dropped first.

"All right," she said quietly. "I'll go."

He did not smile; this was no time for joy, not with what he knew lay ahead. But neither could he regret his actions; he only hoped one day Sinjun would understand.

And forgive.

February 15, 2259 [To Dream in the City of Sorrows]
Tuzanor, Minbar

"You want me to do *what*?"

Ambassador Jeffrey Sinclair, late of EarthForce, current Earth Ambassador to Minbar, named Anla'shok Na barely an hour before, winced.

He'd been warned what the woman's likely reaction to her "assignment" would be, but that hadn't quite prepared him for the onlaught of cool, controlled, damn-near palpable rage. With an effort, he fought down the old command instincts against insubordination, and motioned Rathenn back when the Gray Council member looked as if he would break in.

It didn't help that Sinclair understood her reaction entirely; he was still fighting down dull anger at being summarily yanked away from Babylon 5 when Garibaldi was still down, President Santiago's assassination was still being covered up, and life in general was going to hell. And now he was being forced to do the same to her.

But he had no choice. "Ms. Ross, I know how you feel, but there's no one else I can send. You are the only Human Ranger we have at this moment; you have the best-established cover, and the cover that will let you operate most freely in the station; no one's going to look for an intelligence operative on a stage, for god's sake. Your teachers say you've got the experience, you've got the training, and you've got the people skills to find out what we need to know."

Sinjun Ross stopped pacing long enough to swing on him, a muscle in her clenched jaw working and her hazel eyes blazing gold. "That's all very flattering," she said, her voice tight and her British accent clipped with anger and bitterness, "but I'm not Anla'shok, remember? I'm not 'good enough' for that honor. So you can't 'send' me anywhere!"

Rathenn did break in this time, his voice stern. "Sinjun, it is not for you to tell the Entil'Zha what he can or cannot do. You will show respect, and you will obey. Arrangements have already been made...."

"Then you can unmake them!" Ross shot in Rathenn's direction, without taking her eyes off of Sinclair or raising her voice. "I haven't been given any reason to respect this 'Entil'Zha' yet, and damned if I'm just going to roll over and play dead because you all have decided to turn everything over to some EarthForce flunky! I take orders from Sech Turval!"

"He is not a 'flunky', as you phrase it," Rathenn said carefully, obviously holding onto his temper by the edge of his teeth. It took real skill to annoy a Minbari that much, Sinclair noted with a mix of frustration and amusement. "And if I and Sech Turval accept his leadership, so should you. He is destined to lead the Rangers...."

"Don't start with the destiny nonsense," Ross interrupted impatiently, her controlled facade cracking for the first time. "You know I don't believe in that."

"Then what do you believe in?" Sinclair demanded abruptly, standing so he could lean over his desk.

"Nothing you've shown me yet." Ross's eyes met Sinclair's in open challenge, and he realized he was being tested. Again. He didn't care for it now any more than the other times; in fact, he was getting damned tired of it.

There was only one way to deal with a pissed-off Brit, and Sinclair took it gladly, letting his own temper break loose as he hadn't had the chance since he'd arrived on Minbar. "This is not about you, Ms. Ross, or what you believe! This is about keeping a place and people vital to your fight safe and secure; it's about getting information that could save lives in the right place at the right time. You may not like being taken away from your toy, but this is more important than what any of us *wants*. You are *going* to Babylon 5, if I have to tie you up and put you on the ship myself. Once you get there, you can sulk, or even desert, that's up to you. But. You. Are. Going."

He thought for a long second that it hadn't been enough, that she was still going to try to outstubborn him. Her hands were clenched into fists, her eyes shooting sparks. Then Nalenn spoke up from his chair, where he'd been all but forgotten in the clash of personalities.

"He is right, Sinjun," Nalenn said gently. Ross swung on him, but recovered just in time; apparently not even she would mouth off to the old man. "Babylon 5 will play a great role when the Shadows come; her new captain, Delenn, all the others -- their parts will be as difficult as those of the Rangers, and even more so. They will need your help and protection, your knowledge and your skills. And you will need theirs." His eyes softened as Sinjun's swung away, unable to look him in the face. Sinclair stayed out of it. "This task will not be an easy one, but it is one you know you must take, however frightened you are."

"I'm not afraid!" Ross tried to protest, but her eyes told the truth. Nalenn was right, Sinclair realized with a rush of sympathy that dulled his own anger; the young woman's fury was a cover for the fact that she was scared to death.

Nalenn cut off her protest with a single, not unsympathetic, look. "You are, and you have every right to be. Minbar will always be open to you, as a daughter of my fane, but it is not your home, and never has been. Your duties, and your future, lie elsewhere." He held out a hand to her, the patient hand of a father to his child. "The time has come to leave, my daughter, as I told you it would. Believe or do not, but your fate calls for you."

Ross stared at the hand for a long moment, her chin still stubbornly set. Then, slowly, she seemed to collapse, taking Nalenn's hand and kneeling in front of him. He placed his other hand on her head in a simple caress, but it was to Sinclair that she spoke, without looking over her shoulder. "All right," she said, very quietly and very unhappily. "I'll go."

"Good." Sinclair tried to keep his sigh of relief inaudible. "Your primary assignment," he said as calmly as possible, as if the preceding argument had never happened, "will be to coordinate and track the Rangers passing through Babylon 5 and the surrounding sectors as we begin sending them out. You will be a contact point for passing on their intelligence, and sending messages and assignments from Minbar to them."

Ross took a deep breath, then nodded and stood, a professional to the core, for all that she wasn't truly a Ranger. Yet. "Right. Secondaries?"

Sinclair took a deep breath. "You'll be in a position to socialize with most of the people aboard the station. EarthForce personnel, Security, the ambassadors and their aides, the people in the Zocalo. Talk to them, get to know them..."

"Sweet talk them and report anything they happen to let slip," Ross finished for him, rolling her eyes. "I know the routine."

Sinclair accepted that; after ten years of training, she'd *better* know. "Finally, watch out for Ambassador Delenn and Security Chief Michael Garibaldi."

Ross's eyebrows nearly met her hair. "Delenn? And Chief whatshisname, Garibaldi? Why? He doesn't know about us, does he? And Satai Delenn can take care of herself, last time I saw."

Sinclair tossed her the datareader from his desk, with all of the confidential records Garibaldi was going to *kill* him for showing anyone. She caught it easily as he answered, "Eventually -- soon, in fact -- Chief Garibaldi is going to know about the Rangers, and I want him alive when we need him. He's already had one attempt on his life; I don't want another if there's anything I can do to prevent it. I don't expect you to work miracles, Ms. Ross, and I don't want you blowing your cover, even to Michael, until I give you the word, but stay as close to both of them as you can."

Ross tucked the reader under her arm. "All right... sir." To her credit, the last word didn't take *too* much of an effort. "I assume there's a ship waiting?"

He nodded. "You have two hours, Ms. Ross. Make them count."

"Right." She made a face, but didn't seem inclined to argue anymore. Her first persona was already slipping back into place, covering any signs of the hot-tempered, competent Ranger; inside of a few moments, she'd become... almost Minbari again. The transformation was startling, and not entirely comfortable to watch. She hugged Nalenn gently, kissing the old Minbari's cheek, and accepted his low-voiced blessing, then bowed respectfully to Rathenn, who returned it with a not-quite-hidden exasperation, and affection.

She was almost to the door before Sinclair stopped her. "And there's one other thing...."

When Ross finally left a few minutes later, the three men looked after her in silence. "You are sure this is the wisest course?" Rathenn finally asked, with the air of a man who knows it is, but wants one last confirmation.

Sinclair sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I hope so. From what you say and what her records show, she has the skills; when things fall apart, she'll have the courage. And god knows she has the will; I can see that for myself. As long as she keeps that temper of hers under control..."

"She will," Nalenn assured him without a trace of doubt. There was something shining in the back of his eyes, something speaking of knowledge no one else had, that made Sinclair suspicious. But there was also real affection for the young woman who had just left, and no small amount of faith. "She will do whatever is necessary to defend the light."

Sinclair accepted that. A small smile began spreading across his face, as he looked out into the stars in the direction of the station he still thought of as his. "Besides, if I'm right, she'll have some damn personal reasons to get the job done."

Rathenn looked mystified, but Nalenn smiled faintly. "You are a devious, manipulative Human. And both of them will likely attempt murder."

"Of each other, or me?"

Nalenn thought. "Quite possibly both."

Sinclair grinned, his first real smile in more weeks than he cared to think about. His first step as Anla'Shok Na -- he prayed to whatever gods were listening that it was the right one. "I'm looking forward to it."

He looked out the window one last time, then turned back to Rathenn and Nalenn. "All right, what item of galactic importance is next?"

On to Part One -- The Sea of Waking Dreams

Back to Scenes from a Spaceside Bar

Back to Babylon 5.14159

Based on characters and situations created by J. Michael Strazynski and Babylonian Productions.
Babylon 5 and associated characters and places are used without permission,
for entertainment purposes only. But I'm not putting them back where I got them!.