PART 3 - The Delicate Balance of In-Between"
by Jimmy, June 2, 2001

"This is Garibaldi."

"What is it?" Sheridan asked impatiently, his attention focused on the mounds of paperwork piled in front of him.

"Captain, I think we've got a major storm coming our way." Garibaldi sounded subdued, even troubled.

Sheridan's hands froze mid-air. He turned to the com behind him, "Care to elaborate that further?"

"Not on an open channel. I've sent Dr. Franklin to get you, sir."

"I'll be ready." Sheridan immediately put on his jacket. He didn't like the tone in Garibaldi's voice. The Chief of Security was not well acquainted with fear, and the usual sarcastic observation was missing when 
Garibaldi reported in. Whatever the trouble was, it struck a nerve in Michael, and that meant Sheridan was the one who was going to bleed.

"Captain?" Franklin said as he rushed into the room. "This way."

Sheridan studied the bag dangling from Franklin's hands. It was large, too large for John's comfort, and the Captain's worry slowly bloomed into fear. The doctor led Sheridan to a hallway emptied of everyone save two guards standing at full attention. It was the scent that hit  Sheridan first. It didn't matter what type of blood, for reasons still mercifully unknown to the Captain, he could identify that particular metallic smell like a well-trained hound dog.

Garibaldi stepped out of the room and with him came the specter of death.

"Sir, I suggest you don't go in there. Not until the room is secured and swept."

Sheridan nodded but stuck his head to the side to take a peek. "Oh my G-d ..." He turned to Garibaldi. "What happened in there?"

"The victim was a Minbari. I contacted Ambassador Delenn right after you. No identification on the body, but you can't miss the uniform."

"Warrior Caste?"

Garibaldi nodded slowly.

"Great, that's all I need."

"Captain?" Delenn's voice honed in on him from behind. Sheridan felt dread pass over his being and braced himself to deliver the bad news personally.

"Ambassador, I ..." Sheridan did not finish his sentence. Behind Delenn, hovering like ravens, were representatives of the Warrior Caste. One face he recognized as someone who made enough impact on Sinclair to make a personal note for his successor - Neroon.

Franklin saw the thunderous look on the Minbari faces. He took a deep breath and kicked into his link. "Beano, where are you?" He hissed. "Get your end down here before all hell breaks loose."

"My end is down here." A voice conspiratorially whispered from his back.

Stephen turned around, "Where the hell have you been?"

"Got lost. Still getting used to this place." Beano took a glance at the Minbari entourage. "And I am now wishing I was still lost."

"Who is in there?" The whipping voice gained everyone's attention. Neroon casually shoved aside Delenn and took the front position of the Minbari entourage.

"There is no identification on the corpse. The room's supposed to be rented to a couple who discovered the body. They were on their honeymoon." Garibaldi explained, trying to gauge the relationship between Delenn and the Minbari warrior.

"I want to see him." Neroon demanded.

"How do you know it's a him?" Beano asked blandly. "You're standing at least two meters away from the door."

The dark eyes fixated on her immediately. Everyone else paused to take in her question. Delenn managed to control herself and disregarded the insinuation altogether. The others weren't so practiced in self-control and Beano read honest reaction on every single Minbari face. She filed the emotions for later examination and comparison. Still acting casually, she put on her gloves and coveralls then rummaged through the knapsack for a mask.

"Feel free to answer when you feel like it." Beano said breezily before putting on the breather.

"It was a figure of speech." Neroon curtly responded.

"Dr. Quietbrook ..." Franklin cautioned his partner. He knew she considered herself an expert at whatever game she was playing, but he doubted she had faced a Minbari opponent before.

"I'm going in." Quietbrook interrupted her friend.

She stepped around the room, examining the bloodstains covering the floor, the walls, and the furniture. She turned to Franklin and shook her head.

"Where's the body?" She asked.

"I had it ... him moved to the Med Lab. Lennier will try to make an initial identification." Franklin said.

Beano made a full turn in the room. "I'm stringing."

"What is she saying?" Neroon cut in, not bothering to hide his impatience. So, it was a surprise to Stephen to see him stop just short of charging into the room after Beano.

"It's better to just watch." Franklin explained. "It'll take only a moment."

Beano opened her backpack and pulled out a plastic bag filled with small circular disks. She began placing them in various parts of the room including the walls. Delenn slowly moved forward, her attention riveted on the busy worker.

"What does Dr. Quietbrook do, Dr. Franklin?" Delenn asked softly.

"She studies violent crimes, Ambassador. She discovers how the crime was perpetrated; who did the deed and why."

"It must be a terrible burden, especially for one so young." Delenn said.

"I tried to convince her to study something else." Franklin agreed. "But she's too good at this. And G-d help us, we need people like her."

"I'm ready." Beano announced loudly. She moved back into the room until she was braced against the farthest wall. She pressed a button on a small remote. Suddenly bright lines zigzagged crazily across the room.

"Oh, hell." Franklin blurted out.

Beano nodded, "Six."

"Six." Franklin echoed.

Delenn felt anger rise from the Warrior Caste and asked hurriedly, "Six?"

"Sorry, Ambassador." Franklin turned to his friend. "I think it's better if Dr. Quietbrook explained."

Beano took the cue and her demeanor immediately became somber. "The blood patterns on the wall, the floor, the furniture - they are specific, one following another in an orderly fashion even though they don't look it. And, in a way, a map if one knows how to draw it, then read from it."

She began walking towards them. "This," She pointed at a certain space where the glowing lines intersected heavily. "Is where it began. He was standing here; I believe his back was to the door. It opened. He turned."

She slowly faced them. "The first blow came, and the aim was probably perfect. The impact itself was strong enough to send him reeling backwards, and while doing so, he turned to his right. That's where this spray," She pointed to a massive discoloration on the wall. "Came. And that one."

Beano stepped into the second concentration of lights. "He was struck here again."

The doctor slowly moved towards the back of the room, crossing one then another set of lines, explaining her theory. She finished at the other end, looking down at the floor while kneeling on one leg.

"The victim was fit, strong, and determined. The amount of blood loss here would indicate he's something else than human. If this were a human male or female, the victim would have dropped three steps before. And he fought, but I think the first stab ended any chance of him winning. He also knew his killer. It's almost two meters from where he was first attacked to the door; that's enough distance to react, especially if you were trained to fight. My estimation of the victim is that he stood at least 1.9 meters, probably weighed nearly 90 kg. with his clothes on. He wore black boots and gloves." She pointed to a pair of black gloves sitting primly on the table. "But for reasons unknown to me right now, he took them off. And from the color of this blood; the rate of oxidation which is constant in a space station, thanks to lack of atmospheric interference - I'd say the victim was Minbari. And since there are three distinct caste systems in your society, I hazard a guess and say the victim was a member of Warrior Caste."

"Anything else?" Delenn asked.

"There was a third person in this room when the attack occurred. A witness, a hostage, maybe even a future victim, but there were three in here."

"Why do you say that?" Sheridan slowly stepped into the room.

"Those two sprays." Beano pointed to the wall to his left. "They are interrupted. From the look of the outline, I'd say there was something standing there, probably a person. And whoever he or she is, they have massive bloodstains all over their clothes. Not an easy thing to miss, Mr. Garibaldi."

"Got it." Garibaldi immediately left the scene, barking orders into his link.

Beano took out another plastic bag filled with light, gray powder. She sprayed it in front of the spot where she claimed a witness stood. Then she shone a bright, red light on to the floor.

"Fiber floor, they shape if under enough pressure. See? Two distinct treads. And, from the looks of it, those shoes were black also. The heels scuffled the wall because the person stood right against the wall."

She bent down and scraped off the black smear. The evidence was promptly placed in a container and marked for later examination.

"This isn't a simple murder." Beano said in a sad voice. "This was wholesale slaughter. The attacker used a knife, and that indicates a personal reason. PPG or another type of energy discharge weapon would have been easier, not to mention cleaner. But whoever did this, chose to do it with a weapon that inflicted huge amounts of pain. And then left this ungodly mess behind for some stranger to find. Franklin, I think the wounds on the body may be significant, even ritualistic. What do you think?"

"It's definitely a statement." Franklin said flatly. He turned to Neroon. "And a loud one."

"I wish I knew if the third person was a victim or not." Beano said to her friend. "I'd sleep better if I knew."

"Why is that?" Delenn asked.

"Because if the third person was a victim, then he or she will be in my prayers. But if they were watching this and did nothing, they were here willingly, and it was for the sheer pleasure of witnessing this murder. In my book, that makes him or her as bad as or even worse than the killer. I have been responsible for putting away a lot of bad people, Ambassador. I've even brought evidence in court to condemn the defendant to death of personality. But I have never in my life attended an execution of any kind. Even though I was personally responsible for the sentence."

"Attack of conscience, doctor?" Neroon asked, his voice curiously empty of sarcasm.

"Lack of faith," Beano answered promptly. "In the justice system, or at least in a judicial makeup where death is the end result for lack of a better solution."

"Then why have you chosen this profession?" Delenn asked.

"Because the dead need to speak. Their stories have to be told, and for the living also, for they have to grieve then have some type of closure. It's very, very hard, Ambassador, to continue living a normal life when you're the victim of a crime such as this. Almost impossible when the crime goes unsolved. I've seen cold cases and what it does to the victims' families. It's not a pretty sight. And I am a doctor after all."

"There will be an autopsy, Ambassador, then we'll inform you when you can retrieve the body. I know a warrior's body must be treated with reverence, but with all due respect, we have to also consider the fact that there's a killer on Babylon 5 who took down a member of the Warrior Caste in the most violent way possible. Chances are, he or she is still on board." Franklin respectfully informed Delenn.

"Why do you say that, Franklin?" Sheridan asked. Beano answered for her friend.

"Because this murder was scripted from the beginning, Captain. The trap was set; there was a lure to get the victim into this room without being detected. The room itself was rented out to someone else, but the victim had access, which suggests he had inside help from someone in the station. That someone was probably involved in the murder or at least conspiracy to murder. The victim was ambushed, and his killer or killers managed to get away without being detected by floor security or other transients on this floor. Babylon 5 is a crowded place, Captain. And to go about without detection takes some doing. You don't make elaborate plans like this in order to get caught. They probably think they got away with it and try to lay low for a while, at least until the firefight dies out, then make their escape."

"And risk our wrath if we catch them?" Neroon asked.

"Minbari don't kill Minbari." Beano said softly. "How long has that law been in effect?"

"For a thousand years, doctor." Delenn answered.

"Then what would your kind know about murdering one of your own? Even more to the point - on how to solve it? This is a violent crime, not an act of war or of political aggression. Stephen, is everything ready at the lab?"

Franklin nodded, "The preparations have already started."

"Then it's time for me to say good night." Beano said, once more fussing with her bag.

"We will keep you posted with any developments, Ambassador." Franklin said, pointedly ignoring her escort. "If I may suggest, I think we would all sleep easier if you had a guard outside your quarters, just for a little while."

Sheridan knew Garibaldi probably had someone already planted firmly in front of Delenn's door, but was glad Franklin had the tact to ask for permission.

"Do you think it's necessary, Captain?" Delenn asked.

"I'm not sure, Ambassador, but like the doctor said, we'd all be more relieved if you did have an escort until this is resolved." Sheridan answered truthfully.

"And us?" Neroon asked.

"I think we should have a guard standing outside your door to make sure you don't interfere." Franklin replied curtly. "Because if you get your hands on whoever did this before we do, the case may never get solved."

"Stephen." Now Beano had to control her friend. "We have to get to the lab. The new shift is going to come in any minute."

Franklin gave Neroon a lasting look of annoyance before leaving. As they left the scene Beano automatically rested a comforting hand on his shoulder as if to commiserate with him in body and in silence.

"They are worse than carrion eaters." Adolyn, a young Star Rider, observed in Minbari. "They feed not only on the dead, but also their suffering. Only humans would degrade themselves to such baseness."

Delenn whirled around to confront the youthful offender, her eyes uncharacteristically ablaze. There was always a physical caution practiced by the Religious Caste when confronting a member of the Warrior Caste, but Delenn seemed to be oblivious to that rule. Neroon watched her emotions flit across her face. He never could read her, not when she was Dukhat's student, then Satai, and finally this freak of indecency. But the fire that burned in her was always visible; shimmering underneath her skin no matter what guise she took; a burning light that drew so many to her side in spite of his best efforts. He could now see Delenn's fire had gained powerful influence amongst the human population in Babylon 5.

Neroon wondered how big a mistake the Grey Council committed when they drove her away. If she stayed on Minbar, they could have controlled her. Now, she was outside their immediate jurisdiction and from the looks of it, their grasp. Neroon was aware not all of the Religious Caste had dismissed her. He knew some still believed Delenn to be the One spoken of in the Prophecy, and that group was irretrievably growing by the day. Also, no one in Minbar or The Grey Council could claim such high distinction as having a Vorlon as a personal counselor save one, and that human was another creature drawn to Delenn's fire. Neroon feared when that fire finally exploded across the galaxies, it would consume Minbar itself and leave behind nothing but ashes.

"And who, among you, will be willing to walk into that," Delenn pointed into the bloodied room. "To find justice for an absolute stranger? And who, among us, has the wisdom to carry it out? The baseness you described has been thrown at our feet, stained with Minbari blood, yet I see none of you bending to pick up the burden in order to carry your brother across the final threshold. Do not mock what you do not know, acolyte. You might live long enough to regret your own words."

Her voice rang of old power; of ways Dukhat had taught her and no one else. Her physical presence suddenly seemed to swell, and the half-Minbari revealed the old Satai, the one who served her people fearlessly for twenty cycles. The one who declared the holy war against humans for the death of her mentor, then witnessed the blood flow across the stars as her people began their genocidal war that lasted over two years. The student was startled to face such a change and that were all Delenn needed to see. She withdrew her formidable strength then, and in a moment's passing, she was once again only an outcast.

"Ambassador?" Sheridan said gently. He could feel the hostility between Delenn and her escort, and wanted to intervene before it spiraled out of control. Not that he would mind trading couple of sharp words with some of the Warrior Caste, but he knew a volatile situation with the Minbari was the last thing Earth Alliance needed, especially with the Narn and the Centauri at war.

"I am sorry, Captain. I am more upset than I first thought."

"That's understandable." Sheridan turned to the others and said, "I'm sure you already have accommodations, but if not, Thomas here will see to it. I think it would be best if we leave the forensic staff to do their work. Franklin and his group are a territorial lot. They won't appreciate interference of any kind."

Delenn knew Sheridan was quite aware there will be great deal of interference from the Warrior Caste but held her tongue in check. She caught John giving her a sidelong glance brimming with sly humor, and for a moment had to quell the desire to laugh. It was one of Sheridan's finest gifts - to find the humorous even in a macabre and dangerous situation such as this. With an elegance inherited than trained, Sheridan offered Delenn his arm and she took it.

"Good evening then." He said curtly.

Sheridan didn't look back and marched firmly with Delenn following his lead.

"Oh, Captain. We may have to pay for that tomorrow."  Delenn whispered as they entered the tube.

"No, they're going to be dealing with Franklin and Quietbrook. And those two can be hell on legs if anyone gets in the way. I'm betting two-to-one against the Warrior Caste surviving one round with Stephen."

Delenn gazed upon the man's face, trying to see if he was still in his gaming mood. "You are serious, aren't you?"

"Franklin's dad is a general. Beano's mother was an admiral. Between the two of them, they should know how to handle themselves under pressure. To tell you the truth, I can't wait to see those two butt heads against Neroon and his clan."

"I'm afraid Neroon will have an unfair physical advantage if they do."

"My dear Ambassador, I do believe you are mocking me."

The transfer tube doors slid open noiselessly to introduce Lennier pacing back and forth in the hallway.

"Ambassador Delenn, I have a message from ... a friend."

Delenn's smile disappeared. "Thank you, Lennier. Good evening, Captain."

Sheridan released her hand from his arm and gave a polite nod of recognition to her aide. Lennier quickly took his place by her side and spoke in a low voice as he informed Delenn. John was sorry to note she never looked back after leaving him.

* * * * * * * *

"Satai Hedronn," Delenn greeted the Warrior Caste member of The Grey Council as she entered her quarters. "You have heard."

The tall, lithe figure gave a curt nod, "I just boarded. What has happened?"

"Callimer was murdered." She said. "It won't be long before they ask why he is on Babylon 5, under false pretenses. It will take them even less time to figure out Neroon and his men are also on the station under ... similar circumstances."

Hedronn took a deep breath, "A rift has appeared in the Warrior Caste, Delenn."

She was startled by the news. "In the Warrior Caste? How could that be?"

"Ever since ... Neroon took your place, there were talks.  What should have been a moment of triumph for the Warrior Caste has turned into a curse."

"Against Neroon? He was Branmer's aide. His record is flawless in his servitude to Branmer and to his clan."

"But Branmer obeyed the order to surrender, Delenn, and the Star Riders are not as favored as they like others to believe."

She gave a large, painful sigh and shook her head. "This is becoming fast impossible. Are they not satisfied that they have now unbalanced what took our world nearly thousand years to accomplish?"

Hedronn did not take offense in her accusation, mainly because she was correct. "How is Sheridan handling this?"

"He is not." Delenn answered. "Dr. Franklin and Dr. Quietbrook have taken over the case as they should."

"Quietbrook?" Hedronn echoed. "She is on Babylon 5?"

"You have heard of her?" Delenn asked.

"Yes, she was one of the three principle investigators assigned to the bombing of our embassy on Earth."

"I did not know."

"She was surprisingly proficient. I believe she was the one who managed to track down the human traitor within the embassy responsible for smuggling the bomb into the building."

"Was her contribution made public? I followed that case with great interest and I do not remember her name."

"It was the usual human blundering. Inefficient personnel were assigned to the task initially. Of course, they failed with great efficiency and nothing came of the investigation for weeks. In order to hide their failure, they secretly assigned this Quietbrook to either fix their mistake or take the blame should she fail. She did not, her superiors took the credit, and everything was right with their world again. I am surprised to hear her presence here. I was under the impression she was well favored in her own circle on earth."

"She is an old friend of Dr. Franklin. I believe it was he who precipitated her transfer to Babylon 5."

"It is always personal when it comes to humans."

"I don't consider that a fault necessarily."

"No, you wouldn't, Delenn. And that is an unforgivable tragedy." Hedronn noted with a trace of sadness in his voice.

"Why are the Star Riders here?"

"Sun Hunters have been continuously voicing their unhappiness regarding Neroon's appointment. It has escalated to the point that The Grey Council now fears the Warrior Caste would render itself in half because the two clans would force the rest to choose sides. Callimer was the only member of the Sun Hunters who was willing to listen to reason so I arranged to have him and Neroon meet here."

"And hopefully bring about a peaceful resolution." Delenn said. "It is a noble idea, Satai Hedronn, but now ..."

"Now, with Callimer dead, murdered by parties unknown, the rift could very well widen into civil war in the Warrior Caste. And if that happens, all of Minbar will suffer."

"Who knew of this meeting?"

"Callimer, Neroon and myself. No one else was informed."

Delenn thought for a moment then said, "I will assign Lennier to help in the investigation. He will report directly to me, only. And, I, in turn, will inform you. We cannot allow conflict to rise within our own world, Hedronn. No matter what the cost."

"Minbari don't kill Minbari." Hedronn whispered fiercely. "Our oldest law, should that be violated now ..."

Delenn shook her head. "I know Neroon. He and I have stood on opposite sides many, many times. But I would never think him capable of this. Never. The truth must be allowed into the room, Hedronn. Only then can we be free of our fears."

* * * * * * * *

"You're not going to believe who just checked in." Susan greeted her boss with a twisted smile. "Hedronn, he of the Alleged Ministry of Culture boarded twenty minutes ago."

"Am I missing something?" Sheridan asked, annoyed. "Is there some Minbari Convention that I am not aware of? Because we've got enough Minbari on Babylon 5 to seriously deplete the population on their homeworld. By the way, I'm sure you'll be overjoyed to know Neroon and his choir are here too."

"Great," Ivanova drawled. "There goes my free day tomorrow."

"Sorry to do cancel your day off again, Susan, but I'm going to need you to helm C&C tomorrow. I've got this sinking feeling that all hell's about to break loose. Again."

"At least we're getting our usual dosage of hell and irony." Susan quipped. "We were almost overdue for some. I was starting to get worried."

"How do you deal with hell and irony anyway?"

"I'm Russian. We accept it, sir. We don't deal with it."

"How did Sinclair deal with it?"

"He was trained by the Jesuits, sir. Hell and irony were part of the fabric of life according to him. You either realize that or get out of the way."

"You're not helping."

"But I am. You're just too tired to see it."

"I got the hint. Good night, Commander."

"Good night, sir."