The Long Trial, Part One
Chapter Eight: Changes
by R. Bernstein

The Trigati had been sighted, like an ancient ghost, a Minbari war-cruiser that had gone renegade after the war rather than surrender to the Humans, as the Grey Council had ordered. Their general, Sinoval had committed suicide, martyred himself, rather than concede. And his crew, led by Sinoval's second-in-command, Kalain, had assumed self-imposed exile in protest of the order to surrender. For ten years, they had slid in and out of view. And now, they had renewed their jihad with phantom appearances near Babylon 5, the hated station that represented to them, the Human and Minbari collaboration. Satai Koplann meditated on the long trip to the station on how to stop the Trigati from attacking the station in retaliation for the War, or instigating another one. Things were no longer as simple as they had been during the War. Kalain's anger was justified, was it not? To someone who didn't know what the Grey Council knew, the surrender must have seemed weak and ludicrous. The only reason Koplann had agreed to it, was the insistence of the Religious Caste that mythical signs of a coming millennial war with darkness were coming to fruition, and they believed they had proof in Sinclair's soul, according to the Triluminary. But that reason was now beginning to sound poor even to him, and he had supposedly 'witnessed the sign.' And none of this meant anything to Kalain, who had lost too much, been away too long. As distasteful as this was going to be, Koplann could not think of any other way to avert the coming disaster, than to warn Sheridan, who was now responsible for the lives of all Minbari and aliens on the station, of the presence of the Trigati. The very idea made him want to vomit. Swallowing bile, he headed for the captain's office. Sheridan was not there, and so he had to have the man paged, adding indignation and irritation to the list of reasons he wanted to simply dismember Sheridan as soon as he strode in, with his second-in-command.

After a conversation that had been every bit as terrible as he envisioned it would be, Koplann stormed out of Sheridan's office. Let the Trigati blow them to bits! And good riddance! I will not abide that murderer any longer! And then he realized with a great deal of consternation that this would merely be giving the Star Killer yet another triumph over his people. And this was simply unacceptable. The Trigati must be stopped. His thoughts were so focused and intent that the small woman with long dark hair who had just passed him in the corridor almost escaped his notice. It was the little female soldier from the Line, dressed in civilian clothing now, a long skirt with a flower pattern, and knit blue sweater. He dimly drug from memory that she was now a scientist on the station. He slipped onto the lift after her to obtain a closer look. She was older now, eleven years. She had been little more than an adolescent then. While her height did not appear to have increased, her body looked fuller now, with none of the previous awkwardness. She had grown into her body and face, although her cheeks were still round and child-like. There was nothing child-like about her intense eyes. For a moment, he saw her again as he had that day eleven years ago, bound, disheveled, raving with hallucinations. The day they had surrendered. They were committed to the path, and she was a part of it, wasn't she. Havah Lassee. What a peculiar name. All the Humans had queer-sounding names, Jeffrey SinclairŠJohn Sheridan. He didn't like the combination of those syllables, odd, discordant, like their dispositions. She looked at him quizzically, and then smiled politely. He got off on the next floor and doubled back. There would be ample opportunity for observation later. And he had more important matters to attend to.

* * * * * * * *

Havah passed a tall thin Minbari man in the hall on the way to her office, and thought nothing of it, until he followed her onto the lift. He looked familiar, but she couldn't remember where she'd seen him, maybe around the station. That déjà vu had been happening a lot lately. He was older, the Minbari equivalent of mid-fifties, impeccably dressed in a tan brocade tunic. He had a sour haughty expression. He was looking at her strangely, and she had noticed his change of direction in the hallway, so he might be lost. If it had been anyone other than a reserved Minbari, who appeared to be generally annoyed with the Universe, she would have suspected a set-up for mugging. She smiled at him, hoping to diffuse the cloud of irritation steeping his features. He didn't smile back, but his face didn't darken any more as he nodded slightly to her and got off the lift. Curmudgeon, she thought.

* * * * * * * *

Alyt Kirval received the coordinates of the station from his position in hyperspace, just as he had been instructed by the Grey Council. The Trigati was there. His instructions were to order the Trigati to stand down so that the ship could be boarded and returned to the home-world. The situation of the crew would be addressed once reaching home. There would be a tribunal before the Council of Caste Elders and the Grey Council. As soon as he jumped into normal space, he saw the renegade ship on the screen, waiting for instigation, like a gokh awaiting a shurvil to come out of it's hole before pouncing. Before a single order escaped his lips, he knew what the outcome would be. He had known Kalain. He thought of the man's ruddy face working in exertion in their wrestling matches at the Academy. Their competitiveness had been intense, over everything, scores, exercises, women they sought, command posts. But once the war started, their interactions had mellowed, and they would wave to one another, uncertain whether they would get another chance. Then, the long exile. And now, he found that he would miss the loud high-pitched voice and stubborn face, if this ended badly. Despite all the signs and the realistic options, there was a part of him that thought they would eventually come home and life would resume. It had been a ludicrous oversight. He knew many aboard the ship. They would never allow boarding, particularly Kalain. Satai Koplann had to have known that, but what else could they do? Kirval would not kill his fellow soldiers, renegade or not, and if it had been up to him, he would have just left the Humans and the entire blasted station to meet their gods at the hands of the Trigati. But the Grey Council would not be disobeyed. He gave the order to stand down, and the Trigati shifted position to return to hyperspace. He targeted their jump engines and watched as the engines were disabled.

They responded with a word that meant a great deal to all Minbari military everywhere. "Honor." He knew what that meant for them, and what action it preceded. The hit to their engines had been a clean one, he knew it had been, yet he watched helplessly as the ship reached critical mass and exploded with all lives aboard lost. He could almost feel the hole their souls left in the fabric of space as they escaped beyond the veil into another existence. What a terrible day. And now that blasted captain, Sheridan Star Killer, was contacting him. He wanted to spit at the screen. This man had had his hand in the deaths of thousands more Minbari, apparently the Black Star wasn't enough for him. And he didn't know when to keep quiet and go away. Sheridan thanked him for his help and smiled gratefully. SMILED! Kirval stared flatly, disbelieving this man's lack of consideration. He tersely gave his opinion of the situation and shut off the man's face before he could respond. Let him rot!

* * * * * * * *

Kalain is dead, Koplann thought, mourning for his compatriot. The whole crew of the Trigati is dead. There will be no returning home for them now. After the long war, after the long exile, they will never receive their justice. They are dead, and the Humans are to blame, at least in part. No, perhaps they did not kill them or fire on them. But Kalain committed suicide while in their custody, and they blew up their own ship rather than return to Minbar. We could not allow them to attack the station, and they believed that they would be dishonored in returning. It is because of the Humans that they were forced to make this choice in the first place. It is because of the Humans that they felt they could never return home again. And it was our orders that brought them to this, he thought guiltily. The Humans had better be worth all of the pain they have caused, or I will see to it that this sorrow is re-visited upon them! The Religious Caste had better be correct in their assumption, or they will be held equally responsible! Koplann lit candles for the lives of the heroes of the Trigati and meditated in his private chambers on the trip home to speed their souls to the gods.

Upon returning to Minbar, he held a military ceremony on the grounds of one of the prominent military training sites near the center of Yedor. People who had known any of the crew members came up one by one to speak words in their honor, and placed a bit of soil representing each of the members in a cairn dedicated to the fallen ship. Then the names of each member were enshrined in crystal next to the gymnasium, and a brigade flew in their honor, displaying astounding formations. The crew of the phantom ship were truly ghosts now.

* * * * * * * *

Delenn moaned dejectedly from the floor of her quarters. Pain coursed through her whole body, organs adjusting to her new biology, and the air was freezing. Her chest hurt from coughing out fluid. She was too weak to move very much and her voice sounded strange to her. All she could do was curl into a ball and bear it. After a little while the pain subsided enough to allow her to move. She crawled to a closet and draped a robe over her body. Exhausted, she lay there until Lennier came in and heard her call him. He lifted the hood and nearly fainted. The skin over Delenn's entire face and body had dried and formed a thick black crust which had cracked like earth in a drought. There appeared to be new skin underneath it, but he didn't know whether it was safe to remove the crust and expose it to air. He didn't even know what kind of infection she was susceptible to, since he really didn't know what had happened to her. Neither did she. And she could feel something strange. There was something slick and tangled around her head. Hair. Like the Humans. Fright was beginning to add itself to the sensations making her stomach churn. She had Changed, over a long period of deep sleep. Upon awakening, she had found the soft cocoon she had began in, become hard and intractable. She had slowly strained and fought her way out of the papery confinement, strange fluids oozing from its walls and around her body. As dry as her skin was now, she had been soaked with sticky fluid. And then it began to evaporate as soon as she came fully into the outside air, explaining why she had been so cold. After recovering from the shock, Lennier rushed to the com panel and called Dr. Franklin to come and see her. She didn't protest. He was a Human doctor, and if there was any chance that this change had to do with Human biology, she wanted to know everything there was to know. Her pulse raced with fear. What if this was wrong, what if she never recovered from this, but remained a crippled aberration, an abomination?! She could think of no other hybrids except Havah. There had also been the terrible rumors she had heard of Dilgar experimentation. Organized torture in the name of science, really. Why had the Vorlons ordered this? How could this be important in the coming Shadow War? She fought to keep her breathing calm. And then an odd thought occurred to her. Is this how Humans are born?! How distressing!

Dr. Franklin arrived shortly, and a look of concern mixed with wonder crossed his face as he looked under the hood at her features. She held out her arm and he took it, gingerly running his hands along the cracked skin, and then crumbling some of the flakes. The skin underneath appeared to be healthy. He ran his instrument over her and her life-signs were extremely unusual. But he had seen this before. Havah Lassee had readings like these.

"It's alright. You'll be alright. You appear to be a hybrid, part Minbari, part Human physiologyŠ" He shook his head, his face still questioning, "We should really get you to Med Lab‹"

"No." She said more forcefully than either of them believed possible in her current state. "I am not leaving here until I know more, until this is resolved." She held out her arm, indicating the patchwork skin. Franklin sighed. She needed to be looked at with the care Med Lab had available, but under the circumstances, he could understand her reluctance, especially considering how private the Minbari were. "Look, how did this happen? It would help me to know how this happened." Lennier led him to the inner room and indicated the breached shell against the wall. Franklin walked slowly up to it and kneeled. Amazing! He knew she had been in this cocoon, but how had this change been possible. He turned to Lennier. "Is it alright if I take samples of this?"

Lennier nodded, "Anything that would help her."

He helped Delenn to her bed and ran another check of her readings.

"Everything still seems to be alright, but it will be hard to tell for a day or so. This has been a shock to your system, and if this biology is new to your body then you may be susceptible to infections. I'm going to vaccinate you against certain Human diseases in a couple of days when you've had a chance to build up normal immunity again. It's like being born again. When an infant is born, their system takes time to adjust to foreign organisms. In the meantime, get plenty of rest, and plenty of water. My readings indicated that you are dehydrated. Hydrating yourself will keep you from getting sick." He went and got her a glass of water and put a pitcher near her bed. "I'll come back to check on you again tomorrow."

Delenn assented, a dutiful patient, and closed her eyes. She was asleep within minutes.

He returned to Med Lab for a couple of supplies and returned to Delenn's quarters. He put on gloves and separated flakes of gray material from the mass and deposited them in vials, and then caught some of the viscous fluid drying on the edges. He was fascinated, having never seen the process of hybridization like this. A rare opportunity. Maybe later she would be willing to let him do a more thorough examination and run some tests, but for now, she should rest.

Franklin checked on her once more, making certain that her life-signs were stable, and then left, still puzzled.

* * * * * * * *

The chunk of gray cocoon appeared to have layers. Franklin peeled a layer off and slid it into the microscope. It had the structure of collagen, or of oxidized material, like the cytoskeleton of a cell or a real butterfly cocoon. The next layer revealed more interesting features. "Remarkable," He muttered to no one in particular. There were microfilaments, and microtubules like veins for transporting fluid and attaching to the collagen wall. The innermost layer was astounding, and would have made the career of any Earth geneticist. This was amazing, he had never seen anything like this! This layer was packed with stem cells, undifferentiated cells containing DNA from both Human and Minbari chromosomes. These cells were totapotentiate hybrid cells! A picture was beginning to form of what had happened in that cocoon. He analyzed the fluid: amino acid soup containing more stem cells. He analyzed a bit of the crust that had come off of Delenn's skin: waste product, dead cells of all kinds, just as he had suspected. It was as though she had sloughed off the remnants of her old biology as it was being replaced. He re-constructed what had to have happened. She had to have begun with a power source and a large quantity of a raw soup containing all 20 of the essential amino acids, and both Human and Minbari DNA. The inner layer of the cocoon would have formed first. The cells on the inner wall would secrete a solvent to begin breaking down her cellular structure. Then the microfilaments and outer collagen layer would form, anchoring her dissolving body in place, while providing a flow of stem cells from the inner wall to her body. The cells in the inner wall would also secrete the fluid he had sampled, a constant bath of amino acids for nourishment, solvent, and stem cells to effect the re-stitching of her own DNA. It must have been much like the mitosis seen in fetal gestation, she would have to have returned to a near-fetal state, physically. At this point she would be suspended in the fluid which was simultaneously feeding her, and re-configuring her genetic and cellular make-up, weaving her to the walls of the cocoon. He paused at the thought. If anyone had tried to break into the cocoon at this point in the gestation, she would have been killed because her fibers and the walls of the cocoon were intermeshed. Ribosomes from the stem cells would unzip her DNA, then knit it back together with the hybrid DNA in the long sonata of transcription. Cell by cell, until she was whole again. An unpleasant process for a sentient being. Thankfully, she had probably been unconscious for most of it. He wondered if she had retained her memories, since he hadn't had a chance to question her yet. Neurons were some of the most differentiated cells in the body, but perhaps the mitosis hadn't taken place in the brain. Clearly, some basic memory remained intact for functions like walking, language, coordination. But how had this cocoon formed? What power source did she possess in her quarters that could do that? She must have mixed a sample of her own epithelial cells into the amino acid base beforehand, and that of a Human's, but again, where had she gotten it? And why, aside from an interest in splicing would anyone go through such an ordeal? This had been a highly organized procedure, and this level of splicing was extremely advanced. He knew the Minbari were technologically light-years ahead of many of the younger races, but this had been far beyond what anyone suspected. A part of him itched for just one look at the set-up of this experiment, and part of him just sat and pondered the discovery, overwhelmed by the implications.

* * * * * * * *

When Delenn awoke, she felt better than she had. Her body no longer ached, and she was warm. Her new hair was still a matted sticky mess, however, and her skin itched incessantly with the crust still covering it. She slipped into the bathroom, still garbed in her robe. A ghastly apparition stared at her from the mirror. Caked fragments of crust blanketed her entire form and face, and her hair was foul-looking. She didn't know how she would ever care for it, she didn't even want to touch it. She laid down a sheet on the floor, and slowly scraped off chunks of the crust, piece by piece, until an hour or so later, her new skin was revealed. The sheet was littered with this debris, and she gathered it up into a wad and pushed it carefully into the recycling unit. Getting better, she thought. She slathered cleansing chemicals onto herself, and doused her sticky hair. The chemicals that she had been using her whole life had a strange smell to her now, and tingled slightly. She would have to let it let it sit for a while. But then realized that this alone would not take care of her hair. She had to have something to untangle it. She donned her robe again, and summoned Lennier, and informed him of her need.

"Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine, but I find that I am lacking the proper implements to attend to my appearance. MyŠhair is tangled, and I have nothing to untangle it. I have seen the Humans use tools with little bristles or teeth to untangle it."

"Yes. I do not know what they are called, but I have seen them. I will find one."

She bowed in appreciation, and sat down to wait, and reflect on her new situation. The events and sensations of the past several days paced through her mind. She remembered clearly her first few moments and her last few moments in the cocoon. Horrid memories. After curling up under the slowly forming blanket, she was overwhelmed by the most uncomfortable sensations she had ever experienced. She had felt like squirming and wriggling out of the strands beginning to encase her and never going back. There was an unbelievable heat that felt like it was burning into the deepest strata of her skin. But it wasn't a thermal heat because it felt like it was doing other things to her too. Moving things in her, crawling into her, unzipping her skin. It was terrible, but she felt like she was melting. Mercifully, something about the heat had also made her drowsy and she faded into sleep. She hadn't remembered any dreams though. She didn't know what kind of dreams that experience would inspire. Then, some indeterminate amount of time later, her consciousness had returned. Perhaps the pain had awoken her. Her whole body burned like liquid fire, and her lungs were full of fluid and she couldn't breathe. How can one be on fire and drowning at the same time? She had opened her eyes to hot watery darkness and silence, except the muffled sounds she was making. She pushed against an invisible barrier and it started to give with all of her strength against it, and then she was spent. She had no more energy and she was going to drown in this tiny cell. And then she realized that she was breathing, and dozed off again, overheated. After a few periods of this she had finally breached the walls of her cell and saw a sliver of light, and after hours of struggling, the sliver turned into a yawning gap oozing the fluid she had been sleeping in. She clawed at the edges and worked her way out into freezing bright air of her own quarters, coughing and vomiting fluid, the cold air knifing into her lungs. What a strange terrible path. Why had she agreed to it? Oh yesŠthe Vorlons. Dukhat's last instructions to her had been to trust the Vorlons and work with them to gain the Humans as allies and prepare for the coming Shadow War, the war that had been prophesied by Valen, a thousand years ago. The Vorlons, in their infinite mystery had instructed her to make this change as soon as she received confirmation that the Shadows had returned to their home-world Z'hadum. They had given her the necessary materials to conduct the change, and she had the triluminary from the Grey Council, which had also very likely come, through Valen, from the Vorlons. But why? The question of how this provides us with an advantage against the Shadows is no clearer than it was. Lennier returned with the hair implements. He extended them to her. "This is called a comb. And this one is called a brush. And this is called a Šcurling iron. That was what the man called it at the pharmacy. He said that it is for styling the hair into the shape that you desire."

She took the proffered gifts gratefully, and peered at the curling iron, end to end. There were instructions with it and she read them. After gazing in the mirror at her hair, she realized that she would need to rinse out the fluid that had dried there before doing anything else. She turned on the shower. She had used the shower upon occasion, simply because it was a pleasant sensation. Showers were Human commodities, and some other races used them, but this had never been typical for the Minbari. They used water for refreshment and recreation, and for cleansing in some cases, such as post-lavatory use if there were no anti-microbial lamps or gels. But they did not use immersion in water as a daily cleansing ritual as the Humans did. Since they didn't sweat in the same way, it had always been more effective to use a chemical solution rubbed over the body at night to draw out toxins, which were neutralized and evaporated during sleep. Sleeping robes were then recycled. Now, her skin had changed. She could feel the differences even if she couldn't explain the changes. The water was divine. And her head felt heavy as the water soaked through her hair, cascading down her neck. This would be the best way to untangle it. She slowly combed through the knots as the fluid washed out, until her hair hung shimmering down her shoulders, channeling the water, like waving river-weed. What an odd feeling, she thought as she stepped out and dried off. She finished getting dressed, leaving her damp hair to hang, liking the feel of it shifting around her head. After it dried, she brushed it again until it shined, and carefully followed the instructions for the curling iron, and watched as it took the shape shown on the diagram. Most interesting! When she finished, she stood, surveying the results. The woman who looked back at her was not the same one that she had seen before. Her long dark hair curled to just below her shoulders. And her face still looked slightly Minbari. She had no eyebrows, and the same pronounced brow ridge, but it was less so than before, and her head-bone was narrower, about two inches in width. Instead of coming down over the back of her skull, it truncated just above her ears, ears that were now placed slightly higher. Her hair sprouted from her scalp just above the bone, covering the top of her head, and just below, to the nape of her neck. The reason Ambassador Kosh and the Vorlons had wanted this change, now became clear. She looked Human, at least partly. People trust those who appear like them, those who can understand them. I have been studying Humans with that hope of learning to understand them, for the sake of peace. Now, perhaps, they will be able to see the earnesty in our desire to communicate. A symbol. But what now? She had to contact home, to let them know she was alive. Undoubtedly, they had learned of what she had undergone. And she had undergone this procedure without consulting any of the councils, the caste elders, or the governmentŠusing one of the holy relics in the custody of the Grey Council. The ensuing conversation would not be an enjoyable one.

Rohal's elderly face appeared on the screen. He was one of the few who had supported her in the past, in fact, he had trusted her with the keeping of the Triluminary, and she was relieved to see him. She smiled at him as he gazed at her in astonishment. After a moment, he regained control of his faculties. "It is good to see you again, old friend. I see from your appearance that it is true. You have undergone the Change. Are you alright?"

She nodded and smiled. "I am well, Rohal. It was difficult, but I understand the importance of it. Thank you for asking. How are the others."

He grimaced and said, "They are displeased with this, Delenn. You knew they would be. I am keeping my ear in the conversations, and trying to make them understand but they are talking of removing you permanently. Of voting you out. I thought you should know that. Satai Koplann was expressing doubts about you before he left, ever since you turned down the appointment to Leader of the Council. And Alyt Neroon has also been busy. He has gained a great deal of political weight, and he has been vocal as well. That would not matter so much, except that he has been gaining more and more of an audience lately, from both the other caste elders, and the rest of the Grey Council. In fact, there is talk, not only of removing you, but placing Neroon in your absence."

Delenn was stupefied. Neroon?! "But he is a Warrior! That would throw the council into imbalance, there are already three Warrior Caste members, how can they select another? That is not the way Valen constructed the Council. Three workers, three warriors, three religious, it has been this way for a thousand years, and they want to change it now? With no precedent? And they have the audacity to complain about my change while effecting a far greater one?!" If they were going to remove her, there should at least be another Religious Caste, and why Neroon?! He was erratic, quick tempered, and hostile to most alien races. How could this be positive for Minbari foreign affairs?

"I know Delenn. I agree. But they are not thinking, merely reacting in their own fear, to the coming changes. You have become a representation to them, of that change."

She was not surprised really, that they were refusing to accept this change, or that they were in opposition to her decision to stay on Babylon 5, rather than be called home. This was too abstract for them. On the one hand, they were too far removed from the encroaching signs of the war, encapsulated on their ship. And yet this seclusion also made them too cautious, refusing to see what was ahead because it was easier to make decisions in the vagueness of their sanctum. It was easier to pretend that nothing was amiss, nothing was happening on the home-world, or on Babylon 5, or out on the Rim of known space. It is easier to continue as before andŠand 'stick our heads in the sand,' like that giant Earth bird, theŠthe canary! So this is how it was going to be. She was not going to be swayed. This path had been chosen by Dukhat and she was not going to be made to feel like an erring acolyte! She came here to watch the Humans. And she was doing so. She had been charged by Dukhat to trust the Vorlons. And she was doing so. If these instructions were good enough for Dukhat, then they were good enough for her, and should have been good enough for the rest of them. But they don't know. And it doesn't matter. I will do what I must, and if they remove me from the Council, then that is their choice and it was not meant to be. Thinking of the Humans. She had been informed of Jeffrey Sinclair's reassignment. "Has Sinclair arrived? Is he well?"

"He has. And he is settling into his new quarters and posting as ambassador. The Warrior Caste is not happy with his presence here, but that was to be expected." He said wryly.

She sighed. "Yes. It was."

"Have you spoken with the girl yet?"

"No. She either did not receive my message in time, or chose not to come. I will see to it shortly. First I must attend to my duties on the Babylon 5 Advisory Council. They will be wondering about my status, and my life by now." She smirked.

"Undoubtedly. Well then, I will leave you to your duties. It is nice to see you and know that you came through this unharmed, the scandal of the Council notwithstanding!" He chuckled. "Inform me of Miss Lassee's response when you speak with her. I will relay the news of your well-being to others." The screen went blank and she readied herself to meet the Advisory Council.

* * * * * * * *

After the meeting, she returned to her quarters and changed into one of the dresses she had worn in casual business around the station, a magenta under-dress with an eggshell-blue overcoat and belt. It still fit as it had before. She left a message on Havah Lassee's com.

* * * * * * * *

That evening there was a chime at the door. Havah linked in. Delenn met her at the door. Havah just goggled at her for a few seconds and then realized that she was being rude. This was Delenn? Well, it looked like herŠmostly. But the bald scalp was gone and she now sported dark brown meticulously curled hair. Havah resisted the desperate urge to pull the hair to see if it would come off. She just smiled at Delenn, wide-eyed. "Wow, it's nice to see that you are alright," completely ignoring the changes. If she doesn't bring it up, I'm sure as hell not going to! "You asked to speak with me?"

"Yes. It is a matter of some importance." She led Havah to a divan and poured her a glass of water. Delenn looked intently at her as she spoke. She appeared almost nervous. I wonder if she gets sweaty palms, Havah thought distractedly. Delenn went to a panel in the wall and opened it with an automatic mechanism. There were a series of small rings on a dias, and the triangle trinket that Havah had seen atop the glass structure a week and a half ago. Delenn held up the object before her, so that Havah could see it clearly. "Do you remember this?"

Havah shifted back in her seat, wary now. "No, well, not really. It looks familiar, sort of."

"Memories were taken from you during the War."

Havah scowled. So that's what this was about. As Havah's eyes sharpened, Delenn continued. "I understand your anger, but this can help to restore them. I also understand why you would be reluctant to speak with me of this, but please trust me. We wish no further harm against you or the Humans."

Havah leveled her gaze, jaw set, to keep her teeth from grinding. "Alright. What is it, Ambassador? I'm all ears."

Delenn let out a deep breath. "This is a Triluminary. It is one of our most holy relics. Valen brought them as gifts a thousand years ago. It has certainŠcapabilities. It can unlock the part of your mind that has been locked. It is necessary for you to know this, because what happened to you during the War has to do with the reason we surrendered. And it was necessary to keep this from you until now because of the nature of that reason. You will understand soon. Place your fingers here and here." Havah grasped the thin rods, and Delenn moved her fingers into place for her. The structure vibrated and began to shimmer. The vibration moved through Havah's bones and into her mind. Pathways blocked for eleven years re-opened and the missing memories came flooding back, with perfect resolution and clarity. The giant finned ship, the dark chamber, the assembled Council sitting in judgment of her, tied to that device, the questioning, the glowing Triluminary and the strange presence in the darkness that no one seemed to notice. The Dreams. She heard Delenn's voice in the dark chamber. She heard another voice she recognized, the man from the lift. She felt a mind in her mind, the strange being with the encounter suit, although she couldn't see it here. She recognized it all. When she had encountered the shadow spirits surrounding the dark man in the Zocalo, that had been the same being in the encounter suit that had appeared at the door, who had seemed to float. It was hisŠitsŠvoice. And then she saw and felt the Minbari telepath stealing a part of her mind. But none of it explained why she was here now, or why they had surrendered. She was going to love that explanation. It had better be good! She let go of the Triluminary and the elicited visions faded. The glaze left her eyes as they re-focused on Delenn.

Delenn was gazing at her, expectantly. "Did you see it, the Triluminary, in your memory? Do you remember the dream you had?"

"Yes."

"You do not understand why it glowed like that, do you?'

"No."

"It revealed to us, along with your dream, that you have a Minbari soul."

"You're joking." Havah knew how belligerent this sounded, but at the moment, didn't care.

"Please. Allow me to explain. I know this is unusual, but you must listen. There are reasons that we are certain of this. Beginning a couple thousand years ago, our people began changing. Fewer Minbari were being born in succeeding generations, and the succeeding generations seemed less than the ones before. Less intelligent, less motivated, less able. At the Battle of the Line, we took Jeffrey Sinclair aboard for questioning, and the Triluminary revealed in him, that he also had a Minbari soul. We brought more pilots aboard to confirm this or rule it out. As you must imagine, it was a hard concept for us to accept, as well. But it was true. Every pilot tested revealed the same results. Jeffrey Sinclair was the first, you were the last. We could not continue the War with this knowledge, that we were destroying the other half of our own spirits. As we have spoken before, you are aware that we believe in re-incarnation, as you call it. So it was determined that the souls of our past were being born into Human bodies, and that there must be a purpose in this occurrence."

Havah couldn't believe what she was hearing. She wanted to scream at the outrageousness of this proposition, or laugh, or something other than sit there. She sat, blinking at Delenn, and then had to interject. "Ok, ok. Well, there are a number of arguments that could be made against that assumption. 1. Most populations go through a process of growth and equilibrium. Isn't it more likely that a couple of thousand years ago, your population hit a plateau, an equilibrium with your current environment? I mean you are one of the oldest star-faring races. 2. What is that thing? You've said that it tested us and revealed that we had Minbari souls. Ok, how? How does an implement detect the nature of someone's soul? That's like the old breastplate of the Kohen Gadol, the Hebrew High Priest, that was supposed to be able to detect whether or not someone was lying in a trial?! And people would be put to death over itŠ" She paused uncomfortably. "Are you sure that it measures what you think it measures? Have you ever used it to measure someone's soul before? Do you know if it's accurate? Has it been tested for validity or reliability? I'm not trying to poke holes in your balloon. Don't get me wrong, whatever reason you decided to call off the war, makes me glad you did. But this explanation is a little hard to fathom."

Delenn interjected again, determined. "I understand. It is a difficult thing to accept, certainly as a scientist. But our age as a race, and the possibility that we have hit a population plateau do not preclude what I am telling you. It must still be possible that when a race hits this equilibrium, that it is because their souls are leaving. I know that there is no way of proving this causality, but take it as a possibility that also has not been disproven. This argument aside, there is more. We do not question the Triluminary, out of respect for Valen, but even were that not so, something else happened to confirm its findings. Your dream. You dreamed of the Shadows, did you not? And of a young girl named Kuraal? What name were you called in the dream?"

Delenn knew about her dream because of the telepath, Havah thought. He had acted strangely. "Tiranni or Turanni or something like that. I keep having these dreams. In fact, the damn counselor I went to, to help me get rid of the dreams, told me I was speaking Minbari in the dream, when she hypnotized me. Why? Did you do that?" Havah was going to get the truth now.

"No. We did nothing to instigate that dream. This is what I am telling you. You dreamed of a real person from our history. Turanni was real, she was the chosen of Valen. She disappeared while looking for her child after the last Shadow War, a thousand years ago. There was no other way for you to have known this unless you were connected to her across time. You have her soul."

This chick must be high! Havah moaned, she couldn't help herself. "Oh hell! With all due respect, look, I understand you would think that because of your belief in re-incarnation, but the chosen of Valen? I mean, isn't it equally likely that I picked up these thoughts or read that all somewhere or something? I'm not a telepath but stranger things have happened." Especially here, Havah thought.

Delenn shook her head, new hair bouncing. "You knew precise details that you could not have read anywhere! Not unless you were Minbari. You knew rumors that have not been written down, oral tradition."

Havah paused. Delenn was absolutely in earnest. Havah didn't even know if she believed in re-incarnation, but she could see that Delenn completely did. And completely believed in what she was telling Havah. She questioned Delenn. "So you were there, you helped make this decision."

"Yes."

"Then you're not just an ambassador, are you? You're on the Grey Council."

Delenn bowed her head in confirmation.

"I seeŠSo help me get this straight so farŠYour HonorŠactually, it's Satai isn't it? I remember that much from the dreamŠ"

"Delenn will do fine." Delenn said gently.

"Help me understand this. Does the Grey Council vote on decisions like this?"

"Yes. The majority have to agree, Worker, Warrior, and Religious. The Council is made up of three members of each caste."

"Is that why the warriors are so pissed off still? They didn't agree to the surrender, or didn't buy the reason you gave them?"

Delenn hesitated. "The generals were not given the reason for the surrender. That knowledge would have torn our world apart, and we did not believe that yours was ready for it either."

Ah, making decisions for us already, I see. Well, she's probably right about Earth though. "Forgive me for saying this, I'm not challenging your rationale, and frankly, I can't believe that I'm saying anything to bat for the Warrior Caste, but I kind of understand then, why they're angry. I mean, put yourself in their shoes. You train your whole career, or even your whole life to sacrifice yourself, or kill others, and are drilled with the view that others who are not like you could be a threat, and it is your duty to protect people against any threat. When you fight, when you go to war, you depersonalize the other side. It is the only way that you can get yourself to kill them without being devastated by the actions you are committed to. That takes a toll. And it requires a heavy sense of responsibility and investment. Even without giving your life, you live with the possibility of doing so, or with the possibility of being permanently maimed and living with pain and disability or disfigurement for the rest of your life, along with all of the social ramifications of such injuries. It shapes you. It takes pieces of your life, of your time, of your spirit that are not being used for other things. So when you asked them to surrender, you were asking more of them than is obvious, you were asking them to give up what they had already invested. It is extremely hard, when you have committed yourself to viewing your enemy as evil or non-sentient, to throw on the brakes and say, 'Oh, they're people now', because that comes with all kinds of extra baggage. On the one hand, they're giving up on the time they have lost shaping themselves to their commitment, time that may have been for nothing. And now also, they have to face the weight of personalizing their combatants, who now look like victims. Again, don't get me wrong. I have no desire to fight your warriors again, and I'm glad the war was ended. But then, after asking that sacrifice of them, to not tell them why, is sort ofŠinsulting, because it would say to me, if I were them, that my sense of responsibility wasn't valued. These people had the conviction and courage to stand up and defend your people, it would seem that they would have earned the regard of autonomous adults capable of evaluating logic for themselves, whether they have to obey or not. They should at least be given the opportunity to hear the reason and agree or disagree in private."

Delenn looked at her strangely. "Yes, unfortunately, I do not know if the results would be as simple as that. But IŠappreciate your candor. They do deserve to be acknowledged, but your argument has two sides. It is for that very reason, their sacrifice, that we could not tell them. Either they would simply not have believed us, due to this depersonalization, and it would have been impossible to convince them of your sentience, time was critical, or the burden of lives they had taken, after learning of the state of your souls, would have been crushing. A terrible realization to come to, after fighting so hard, to find out that your mission was false. Certainly, they deserve the right to come to their own conclusions. But we would have spared them what pain we could. It was going to be difficult enough, and we had to be certain that you would not continue to be threatened. We needed time to rebuild the damage done to our society by the long years of war, without further upheavals. And that secret must still be kept until we can find a way to tell them."

"My lips are sealed. I would never interfere. WellŠand thank you for the consideration. Like I said, I have no desire to ever fight them again, and I'm glad that you stopped it, however it was you did it. But there's more I don't understand. Why now? Why tell me all this? What does my dream or my soul or whatever, have to do with why you wanted to see me?"

Delenn thought for a moment. It was requested to have Havah posted on their home-world, for closer observation, and to assist in preparing for the coming War, because of her probable role in the last one. But Havah, clearly had difficulty with the credibility of the link between their races, or the reason events were unfolding as they were. Perhaps Havah leaned more towardsŠfree will, as they had discussed earlier. How Delenn presented her requests and reasoning would be critical. This woman was obviously very wary of any mention of her dreams, and despite her willingness to talk about metaphysical or spiritual matters theoretically, she was not ready to consider them as part of her life. "As I mentioned, there are changes coming, in the galaxy. According to the historical documents, Valen predicted that the Shadows, the race he fought a thousand years ago, would return. And the time predicted is almost here. We believe this. You do not have to. In any case, the possibility of these changes have brought to our attention certain needs we have, regardless of whether or not history happens as it was predicted. And we would like to take the opportunity to address these needs."

Havah just waited.

"You were trained as an anthropologist, yes? And you are trained in public health?"

"That's correct."

"My proposition comes with the backing of the Grey Council. They would like to offer you a position as an anthropologist on our world. What we have need of is a better understanding of other races, and we also have need of a way to give other races a better understanding of ours. However, as you know, we have been secluded from other races for some time now. We are not used to alien influences. But since we are looking to open our world to visitation by other races, I believe you call itŠtourism, there will be a need of someone withŠsocial science skills, someone with a broad understanding of culture and society? Sociology? Jeffrey Sinclair has been re-assigned there at our request as an ambassador, and a representative of Earth, but we also require someone who can compile information about us in a sensitive manner and put it into forms other races will understand. Do you see? This will help to buffer the increased interaction between the Minbari and other races, including Humans."

"So you want me to do an ethnography? That would be a great opportunity, for me as well, but the problem is that an anthropologist has to be an objective observer, and a participant as well. So this person has to have access to all kinds of areas of society. I'm afraid I closed a lot of those doors with my actions during the War. I don't imagine that the Warrior Caste would be at all willing to put up with me asking all kinds of questions. Also, I'm more than a little concerned with this idea that I have the soul of someone very important to a lot of people on your world. If people were to believe that, not only would it affect the nature of the data they gave me, but it would be extraordinarily unethical for me to ask information of them. There's a moratorium in social science, in any science, on using influence to get information. And influence based on what they thought of me might have a profound effect on their decision to participate and talk to me about anything. It's a concept called 'informed consent', and it was instituted to protect participants in science experiments from human rights abuses. There was a time in the past, when researchers did horrible things, in the perceived name of science, just like the Dilgar. As the sciences matured, we developed ethical guidelines that have been codified, and informed consent is one of those principles. It is very organized, and everything has to be passed through a Sentient Rights Review Board, during which the proposed research project is measured against these principles that have been very strictly developed. Informed consent states that a participant in a research project has to be completely aware of the ramifications of the project on him or herself, the benefits that they can or cannot gain from participating, the nature and extent of the harm that can come to them from participating, even non-tangible harm such as family censure or emotional distress. And the decision to participate has to be autonomous. The person has to be capable of making autonomous decisions. For instance, a child could not make the decision, a care-taker would have to speak for them, and even then they have to give their own permission. And also, even after knowing all that, the participant cannot feel pressure to consent in any way, so their motivation for participating has to be evaluated. People can feel pressure for all kinds of reasons, for food, if they are in need. If they are incarcerated, sometimes prisoners feel that they will have a shorter sentence if they participate, or experience poor treatment by their captors if they don't. In the case of your citizens, they might feel pressured to participate because of a social more, and I am bound by the ethics of social science not to take advantage of that. Especially since the majority of your population is soŠunaware of foreign ways."

Delenn spoke warmly. "It is this caution, this desire to protect the people you investigate that convinces me that you can be trusted with this proposal."

"Those are just the guidelines, any social scientist would tell you the same thing."

"Perhaps, but not all scientists would follow them closely, and I believe you would. Also, the question of this influence due to what we know of you is not an issue. This is not wide-spread knowledge, it is confined to the Grey Council. What is most known of you, are your actions during the War. And while it is true that the Warrior Caste are not fond of you, and would not be happy with your presence, they will not be happy with the presence of any Human. Yet the decision has still been made to open our world, within certain limits, to off-worlders, and so whether you are present or not, they will have to learn to live with Humans and the presence of other races. That is the whole point of our need. We cannot form effective alliances or friendships if we do not learn to work with other races. And, Havah Lassee, while they were 'unhappy' with your actions during the War, they also gained a small degree of respect, although they would eat an entire storage house full of alien food before they would ever admit this. You fought well and without dishonor, and you areŠa known quantity to them. Because of the War, they know more about you than they would know about any other researcher." Delenn finished, placing her hands on her lap.

I don't know if I like the sound of that. An interesting argument though, Havah thought. "I'm going to have to give this some heavy thought. I am really more geared towards epidemiology now, than anthropology. I'm really fond of my job too, and I can't just leave them in the lurch. I need to give them sufficient notice and train someone else if I were to leave. And I'm still really not sure that I can be of much use as far as cultural relations. I'm not very diplomatic or sensitive. There are reasons I got out of anthropology. But it does sound like a great opportunity in many ways, and I have to admit that I am very curious about the Minbari." More curious than you realize! She thought. This might be a perfect opportunity to learn more about her father's ways, his people, his life. And it's not like I have a relationship here holding me back! She thought sorely of Dylan.

"Of course! Please consider the offer carefully. I believe you would be a great asset to our world and yours, in this capacity. But if you chose to remain here, I would understand." I would understand, but it would make things far more complicated. Delenn smiled encouragingly. "And of course, if you chose to accommodate us, we would expect you to need a period of time to wrap up your position here. Following this, we could bring you to Minbar and assure that all of your requirements were provided for."

"That's a very generous offer. When do you need an answer by?"

"As soon as possible. But if you are asking if there is an expiration date, there is not. The Grey Council is not particularly comfortable with anyone else for this task."

"Wow. Well, then, I'll think quickly, and let you know as soon as possible. I'll try to let you know within the next few days. Is that acceptable?"

Delenn bowed happily. "Yes, such decisions cannot be made lightly. Thank you for staying and listening. I know that this cannot have been a comfortable conversation to have."

Havah nodded, and left. That night she lay awake, all of the information and the unblocked memories cycling through her head. These were the people who had captured her and pried into her mind. But they, at least certain factions now, seemed to want re-conciliation of some kind. Maybe she should give it a chance. It would give her a chance to learn more about her father, about that side of her genetics and nature. That could be important. And Dylan wasn't around anymore, and she really didn't want to see him casually around the station. And, it was a cherry opportunity for any anthropologist. But I'm not an anthropologist. And my father doesn't want me, or wouldn't if he knew he was my father. There are plenty of people on that world who want nothing better than to stick knives in my eyes. What if it's a trap? And another busted relationship is no reason to shift careers. I love my job now, and the people I work with. Is this seemingly-good opportunity good enough to risk what I already have? Her thoughts spun like that, around and around, all night, like a little motor revving out of control, and by morning she was tired, cranky, and no closer to an answer. She told Carmen of the offer. She had to. Carmen had been so loyal to her employees and she had trained her, so Havah needed to give her some warning of what might happen. Havah was also secretly hoping that Carmen could provide her with some way of making a decision. But while Carmen certainly expressed her displeasure at the offer and the prospect of losing a good epidemiologist, she couldn't help Havah decide what was best for her.

Havah waited for almost a week, looking for some sign, something to turn her decision in one direction or another, but nothing presented itself. So finally, not wanting to keep the 'Ambassador' waiting too long, she just sighed and made a decision. There was nothing portentous, nothing to make her choices fit into a neat little box, telling her where to go, nothing to indicate any ordainment. She might as well have flipped a coin. Just like that. She had always been into adventure, into trying new things. In some ways she didn't like to take risks, but it came down to regretting trying something versus regretting not-trying something. I think that I probably will regret this, but here's to roller-coaster rides! Havah slunk into work and informed Carmen of her decision. There was about ten minutes of good-natured guilt trip, and then Carmen hugged her and congratulated her. "I knew once you were trained, you'd get a bigger fish biting! Now that you've turned from an ugly-duckling intern into a swan epidemiologist!" Carmen sighed dramatically and raised the back of her hand to her forehead in a theatrical gesture. The staff all laughed. Havah went to Delenn and gave her the answer. Delenn hugged her delightedly. Odd, Havah thought, for someone who was never demonstrative. Delenn began giving her information to prepare for the post. At home that night, Havah was buried in paper-work. You would think, with such an advanced technology that they would have gotten past all the paper! Maybe it's a government thing. She whistled as she read.

End Part I, The Long Trial

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