PART 4 - Segue
by V. Wildeber, 30 March 2000
Hooded, with her cloak pulled tight around her, Shukran wandered the dark streets of the ravaged capitol, not caring where she went, but somehow always ending up back at the same spot. The moons had long since set, and the night sky was beginning to lighten in the east, revealing the full expanse of the bridge, its delicate arches unscathed by warrior bombardment.
The FireWing reached out tentatively, running her hand lightly along the familiar curves of the stone railing. Slowly, she walked to the crest of the bridge, kicking aimlessly at the random piles of stone chips that marked impact points. On impulse, she tugged off her glove, then bent and picked up a stone fragment. She rubbed it between her thumb and fingers, then slumped heavily against the rail.
A little over a year ago -- a lifetime ago -- she and Neroon had stood on this bridge together, lending help to a short-handed worker repair crew. Together, they had come to Minbar to see how their people really lived, to walk among them unnoticed, to listen and learn. Neroon brought the truth back with him, but the Grey Council had no ear for truth. Blind, deaf, and hardened of heart, the Grey Council had wandered far off its path. And as the Grey Council went, so went Minbar, spiraling downward into brokenness -- and civil war -- and death.
Shukran closed her eyes and buried her head in her arms, ignoring the transport whirring to a halt near the bridge. Unsteady footsteps sounded on the bridge, small feet scrabbling for a foothold among a patch of shards. Finally, curiosity overcame her misery, and Shukran turned her head and squinted in the dim pre-dawn light. Two cloaked and hooded figures, one supporting the other, slowly made their way toward her. They became recognizable as they drew closer.
"Delenn." Shukran stated the name with dispassion, pointedly neglecting to salute.
"Alyt Shukran." Gracefully, Delenn bowed over steepled fingers, ignoring the warrior's slight. Behind Delenn, her aide bobbed in a shallow bow, then melted back into the gloom.
"The sight of the Great Temple at dawn has always cheered me," Delenn began. She gripped the rail with both hands and stood firmly. "I grieve with you in your loss, Shukran. I considered Neroon to be my friend."
The unanticipated words stung the young FireWing. She spun toward Delenn with a snarl. "You set him up!"
Delenn cringed but did not look down. "Shukran, forgive me. I did not intend..." Her words trailed off under the warrior's cold glare. Then she gathered herself back together. "You will listen to me, Shukran; and then you may make your judgment." Even in pain, Delenn carried herself with authority. She swallowed to moisten her throat, then continued.
"Neroon and I met secretly to discuss an end to the war. We agreed that neither caste could win; so I was to leave the circle after Shakiri humiliated himself. I would remain leader of the religious caste, and Neroon would become the leader of the warrior caste by default. Together, we could restore peace to Minbar."
A cold morning gust whipped against them, blowing back Delenn's hood, revealing singed hair and scorched face. Still hooded, silent and muscles tensed, Shukran waited.
"Just in case... just in case I was not... *strong* enough to survive the Starfire..." Delenn's words spilled out awkwardly, "I prepared a message for Rathenn, choosing him to lead the religious caste and telling him to support Neroon as leader of the warrior caste."
She gripped the rail tighter, forcing herself to continue her confession to the warrior before her.
"When I was in the circle, I began to remember all the deaths..." Her words became a whisper, and she squeezed shut her eyes. After a moment, she recovered.
Looking Shukran squarely in the eye, Delenn continued in a strained voice. "Mine was the deciding vote which started the war with the humans." She took a deep breath. "Mine was the voice which ended that Holy War -- and which then refused to explain or apologize to the warriors who had sacrificed so much."
Doggedly, she continued, her words falling like blows to her own back. "Mine was the hand that broke the Grey Council. I had no idea a civil war..." Fighting back tears, Delenn stretched her hand toward Shukran.
The FireWing wheeled away from her, staring instead at the eastern mountains blocking the sun. Her words rang out cold and harsh. "So you decided to change the plan -- to sacrifice yourself to appease your own guilt." She spun back around, slamming her gloved fist down hard on the rail. "But you forgot about Neroon, Delenn! Or did you think he'd just stand by and allow you to die?"
Shukran's voice cracked. "Do you really think your death would have ended the war? With the Shai Alyt of the warrior caste humiliated? Would the religious caste just step aside and not claim victory? I think not!"
Delenn stepped back under the verbal assault, losing her balance and falling against the rail. In an instant, Lennier was at her side.
The breeze kicked up again, bringing with it a rapid patter of rain. Lennier crouched over Delenn protectively, shielding her from the unexpected storm. Standing apart, Shukran threw back her hood and raised her face to the wind, allowing the rain to wash over her -- to dissolve the ash and dried tears -- and to cool her rage.
As suddenly as it had come, the storm was over, and the sun broke over the eastern mountains.
The young half-caste stared into the sunrise. "Neroon saved you for a reason, Delenn. Had he simply wished to end the war, he would have stepped into the Starfire and died beside you. But he refused to let you die." She turned to look at Delenn. "Why?"
Delenn straightened, pulling away from Lennier and walking toward Shukran. The Starfire Wheel had exacted a terrible toll on her. It was nothing short of a miracle that she survived as long as she did. Tears shone in her eyes as she laid her hand on the warrior's arm. "Believe me when I tell you -- I do not know!"
Shukran looked down at the broken stone, and slipped it into a pocket of her cloak. She gently pulled away from Delenn.
"I don't know why he did it, Delenn; but I'll respect his decision." She turned back to the east, determined to keep from crying in front of priests.
Silently, they watched the day breaking across the old city. After several minutes had passed, Lennier politely cleared his throat and glanced back at the transport.
Delenn nodded slightly at him, then looked at Shukran. "They are expecting me at the temple. I came to find you, not only to offer my condolences on your loss, but to get your decision on a matter."
Silent, Shukran continued to stare into the east.
Delenn chose her words carefully. "Neroon's conversion was rather... sudden. For a full-blooded warrior to convert to the religious caste is rare, and there is no precedent anywhere for a deathbed conversion. But there is a certain symmetry in the deaths that started and ended the war... Our caste wants Neroon to be adopted into the House of Kell, of the 5th Fain of Chudomo, since that was Rika's House and fain."
"No!" The forcefulness of Shukran's reply startled even Lennier. "Neroon is a warrior, not some... priest! He said what he did so neither caste would win."
"Unfortunately, the law is quite clear -- his conversion was public and irrevocable. But..." A sly smile crossed Delenn's features. "Tradition also dictates that approval of adoption belongs to the senior member of the sponsoring House." Her smile grew wider. "And the records indicate that you are the sole surviving member, and thus the senior voice, of the House of Kell. It is your decision."
"You know as well as I do that Neroon did not convert."
Delenn inclined her head gracefully. "In the eyes of the law, he did."
The half-caste snorted at the irony of it all. "The last time I visited my father's fain, they threw Neroon and me out of the compound." She paused, the corner of her mouth twitching in the beginning of a smile. "Actually, Neroon never set foot in the sacred compound -- and I didn't get past the gate." She looked down at her bare hand, and pulled her glove back on, flexing her fingers into a fist.
"And now they have made their request, they are bound by my decision, yes?"
"Yes."
"And who will inform them of this?"
"I will."
The wind whipped up again, blowing back Shukran's hood, exposing the carved peaks and ridges of her headbone -- a warrior's crest. She raised her voice to be heard over the wind. "Then tell them: I speak as the last of the House of Kell. Place Neroon StarRider in Branmer's fain, for he completed the circle that Branmer began."
* * * * * * *
Shukran walked back to the temple alone. Shai Alyt Durell and F'hursna Sech Durhan made room for her between them on the balcony. Together, they leaned against the railing, watching the city wake below them. Singly and in groups, people began venturing out onto the streets -- workers cleaning and making repairs.
For a long while, they said nothing. At last, Shukran asked, "Is there news?"
Sech Durhan rumbled, "The clan leaders met. Morann is the new Shai Alyt of the warrior caste."
Durell spoke up, his voice low and dry in his throat. "Shakiri will stand trial before the new Grey Council." He thumped a pebble from the railing, and they watched it bounce across the rounded roof and disappear over the edge.
The F'hursna Sech spoke again. "And warriors will again take their place among the Anla'shok." He turned and fixed Shukran with a level stare. "Shai Alyt Morann has opened the Rangers to any warrior who has not shed Minbari blood."
The FireWing's eyes widened, then she tore away from his gaze. Several minutes passed where no one spoke. The wind came up again, blowing ash in miniature whirlwinds that danced, then died away as suddenly as they had arisen. Finally, Durell broke the silence.
"What are you thinking about, Shukran?"
She drew her breath tightly. "The religious caste is installing Neroon into whatever fain Branmer belonged to."
Sech Durhan looked at her closely. "How do you know that? The meeting isn't out yet."
The half-caste held his gaze. "Because the decision was mine."
The hint of a smile passed over the F'hursna Sech's face. "You chose well, Shukran. Branmer was a StarRider, and fain-brother to Dukhat." He nodded, pleased. "That is a fain that will not abuse the honor of Neroon's name. They will remember him as a warrior and a hero -- not a priest."
Abruptly, she blurted out, "I miss him."
Durell draped his arm across her shoulders and squeezed gently. "I miss him, too." In the distance, thunder rumbled; and it started to rain.
Beside her, Sech Durhan whispered conspiratorially, "Have you heard the one about the four Minbari in the rainstorm?"
Shukran shook her head, no.
"Well, you see, there was this terrible rainstorm. A worker stood outside, getting cold and wet and miserable, and said, "It sucks to be out here." Then he went back to work. A Ranger got caught out in the rain, too. He was drenched, but he said, "I love how it sucks out here!" and went on with his mission. A warrior stood ankle-deep in the mud, soaked to the skin, but he threw back his head and laughed at the storm, "I wish it would suck more out here!" Then he continued to fight. While high up on a hill, in a cozy warm temple, a priest sat and looked out his window and said... "My, I bet it would suck to be out there!"
Durell and Shukran looked at him blankly for a moment, and then the StarRider started to laugh. He glanced down at the miserable weather below them and smiled. "Thank you, Sech Durhan. Neroon would have liked that joke."
Durhan's eyes glinted gently as he gave a shallow bow to them both. "I must go now. My transport is due to depart in 20 minutes."
Durell and Shukran saluted, then watched him walk out into the storm. The wind whipped the old Minbari's cloak about him, and pelted him with sheets of rain. Finally, he disappeared from view.
"Today would be a good day for the Rebirth Ceremony."
Surprised, Shukran glanced over at her Shai Alyt. "You never attend those things."
"I know -- but it would be a good day for it, all the same." He folded his arms across his broad chest and leaned back against the railing. "The last one of these I went through was during the Holy War. Branmer decided we needed one after... Seselj was sent away."
Shukran politely looked away. "I remember." She had not forgotten Durell's earlier loss. And now his second clan-brother had died.
He cleared his throat. "We can do without the rituals and cut straight to the exchange. I have a secret that I have held for 16 years, and something of great value to surrender." His dark eyes held hers. "And I choose you to hear my secret and accept what I have to give."
Straightening, he walked toward her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "But you must choose your own listener -- the one who is right for your secret, and your sacrifice. And you must listen to what your own heart tells you -- even if it's not what you want to hear."
The slender FireWing nodded, swallowing.
Durell pulled a pouch from a pocket in his cloak. Reaching inside, he retrieved a small, dog-eared hologram and handed it to her. On its face were three boys, the oldest not quite old enough for clan training. They were captured in motion, brandishing training pikes and laughing for the camera. The middle one was missing a front tooth, and the youngest's headbone was still smooth. The oldest stood protectively behind his brothers, a very familiar grin on his face.
Shukran rotated the card back and forth, watching the boys raise and lower their pikes. "It's you and Neroon and Seselj," she whispered.
"I want you to have it." He put the pouch back in his pocket, smiling smugly. "And since it's the Rebirth Ceremony, you have to take it."
"Thank you." She couldn't bring herself to put it away yet. The shimmering faces were too... real.
"And the secret I have kept for almost 16 years..."
Shukran suddenly looked up at him, her eyes widening in embarrassment.
Durell continued, gently. "... is that you loved him."
The young woman fixed her gaze on the toe of her left boot, her breath coming raggedly as she fought to regain her composure.
After a moment, Durell added, "He figured it out just before he gave up command of Ingata -- probably about the same time he discovered he loved you." He paused. "But you know that part."
Shukran looked at the hologram one more time, then put it carefully away. She looked up at the StarRider, but he shook his head. "No, you need to find another. I'll be here." Drawing his hood over his head, he turned and strode silently down the hallway.
Shukran sagged back against the railing and stared out into the heavy rain. Across the temple courtyard, a flash of white caught her eye -- an acolyte, shuttering the windows against the storm. Suddenly, the wind changed, sending a spattering of rain up onto the balcony. Nimbly, Shukran leapt aside. Her uniform had only now started to feel like it was drying out.
And down in the city below, ignoring the rain, a crew of workers slogged through the rubble, cleaning up the mess left by the bombing.
The words of Sech Durhan's joke came back to her. Yes, Neroon would have enjoyed the joke.
She couldn't help but think of him. Durell's words were true -- she had loved Neroon from the moment she first saw him. But in the deepest part of her, she was terrified that, in time, she would forget how Neroon looked, that the sound of his voice would fade from her memory. She sank to the floor and curled up in a ball, cradling the hologram in her fingers, willing herself to remember him. The last time they had been on Minbar, they had been rained on...
She looked up as a crack of lightning split the sky, illuminating a tower on a distant hill. A shudder ran down her spine when she realized what she was doing. She stood, shoved the hologram back in her pocket, and walked out onto the balcony. Sitting on the rail, she leaned out into the rain, allowing the cold water to run over her face and down her collar. After a moment, she came back inside and shook herself off.
Her father had done this very thing when her mother had died -- childishly walling himself off with his memories, clinging to what was gone, holding on so tightly that he could touch no one else.
Shukran turned and walked down the hallway, past Durell and all that was dependable and familiar and strong. She continued on into the depths of the temple, past wary-eyed acolytes and coveys of fluttering priests, until she found who she was looking for. More precisely, he found her.
"Lennier, I must speak with Delenn."
The attaché shook his head. "I'm sorry, but Delenn is resting now. She's far too weak to see anyone."
"I will be brief, and then I will be gone. Take me to her."
"She is asleep, Shukran. The doctors gave her medication to put her under for several hours."
Shukran smiled. "Fine -- then I will not disturb her when I speak." Lennier sighed, then gestured for her to follow.
* * * * * * *
Shukran's nostrils flared in distaste at the smell of the respirator. She had never been comfortable around the ill. Slowly, she approached Delenn's bed. The woman looked terribly fragile, asleep, hooked up to the machine, her breathing mechanically regular.
The half-caste stood silently for a moment, considering the hybrid Human-Minbari before her. Neroon had seen something inside Delenn, something too valuable to allow to perish.
"For the Rebirth Ceremony, I have chosen you." Shukran coughed nervously. "It doesn't really matter that you can't hear me, because it's not a real ceremony. We skipped all the rituals."
Only the sound of the respirator broke the silence.
"I'm supposed to tell you a secret." She paused, dropping her gaze to the toe of her left boot. "I am afraid I will lose myself, Delenn. Just like my father did... I'll bury myself in the past."
The young warrior unfastened her rank cord. Wet, its deep blue strands looked almost black. Gently, she traced the proficiency ratings with her finger, then touched the single gold cord that represented all she ever wanted to be.
"It is everything I am." She laid the cord on the bed beside the sleeping woman, then stepped back.
"Neroon believed in you -- and so will I... Entil'Zha."
She saluted and left the room, cutting straight through the crowd of priests without slowing. Straight through the darkened hallways to the balcony, where Durell waited, silhouetted against the open window.
His deep voice rumbled softly, "Birth is painful. Did you imagine rebirth would be any less so?"
"No."
He looked at her uniform, bare of rank, then pursed his lips and looked away. After a moment, he rubbed his nose, then glanced at his chronometer and forced a wink and hearty voice. "If you run, you might just be able to catch Sech Durhan's transport."
The young half-caste tried to smile. "I'll make it."
Quietly, he said, "I know." He held out his hand to her in blessing. "Go with Valen, and serve with honor, FireWing."
She covered his hand with her own, squeezing lightly. Durell smiled and cuffed her affectionately across the headbone. "Go!"
Shukran saluted crisply, turned and dashed out of the temple into the morning rain.
--end--