To Dream in the City of Sorrows (19 page)

Would she want this kind of life? Married to – what? A guerrilla leader? A figure of Minbari prophecy? If she had been unhappy with the constraints of Earthforce service, what would she think of the all-encompassing lifestyle that came with being the Anla’shok Na and, at least in the eyes of Jenimer, Rathenn, and apparently the Rangers themselves, the Entil’Zha-to-be?

Forget the personal, Ulkesh had said. The Vorlons wanted automatons totally devoted to carrying out their agenda, moving only as they suggested, opposing the Shadows only as they instructed. How frustrating it must be for the Vorlons when Jenimer and Delenn and some of the other Minbari kept insisting on having ideas and wills of their own.

How annoying for everyone that their handpicked but stubborn fulfillment of prophecy kept insisting on his right to a personal, Human life, as well. The truth was he was feeling very much alone. A particular line from the one book of collected poetry he had been able to bring with him kept reverberating through his thoughts. It was from Rilke: “But how alien, alas, are the streets of the city of grief.”

A stranger in a strange land, he had told Rathenn, so very long ago it seemed now. Even with new Human recruits arriving at the Ranger compound every day, he felt very much the stranger in this alien city and on this alien planet. Actually, he was the alien here, and he longed for even a small fragment of the life he had once led.

Catherine was far more than that. He knew what she meant to him, how much he wanted her to say yes, she would still marry him, in spite of everything. He would not hold her to her prior agreement, if it wasn’t what she wanted. But he did want her to come to Minbar and see for herself before she made her decision. He wanted her to see the importance of the work he was doing here and why he had agreed to it in spite of certain misgivings. He wanted her to see that they could still build a life together. In both of their lives, “home” had never been defined so much by the place where they lived as by the people they were with. With Catherine, Sinclair would have a home, wherever he was.

He wanted her to see that his love for her had not changed, even if everything else in his life had changed absolutely. Only then should she make up her mind; only then would he be able to accept completely whichever decision she made.

But she could only come to Minbar if she made it back safely to Babylon 5. He had just entrusted one of his Rangers with another message for her, but he still didn’t know if she had received the first one he had sent so many weeks ago. Nor did he know if she would be able to make any sense of it at all. That message had been composed and sent with the “help” of the others. He could only hope she had understood what he was trying to say, and was now taking every precaution.

There was a knock on his door. “Ambassador,” came the voice of the ever-faithful Venak, still his embassy aide. “Your first appointment is here.”

Sinclair pushed the button to release the lock on the door and open it. More potential Ranger candidates to screen. He had a lot of work to do this day, as every day.

Just do what you can, one of his teachers had told him a long time ago, and let God take care of the rest.

“Send them in,” he said.

C
HAPTER 15

THE arrival of a ship at the Arisia Mining Colony was usually an eagerly anticipated event. Ships from Earth or other parts of the solar system, ships from the various Earth Colonies, and even the occasional ship from Narn or the Drazi homeworld brought a welcome infusion of mail, fresh supplies, news, and gossip along with cold cash to be paid for Quantium 40, which translated into salaries, wages, and bonuses.

But the arrival of a Minbari ship excited a bit less interest than most because the insular Minbari rarely brought anything other than their empty cargo bays and their cash. While unfailingly polite, they did not engage in small talk, speculation, or gossip, and only rarely passed along any news worth hearing.

In fact, Marcus didn’t really expect to see any of the Minbari at all except the ship’s captain when it was time to sign papers and make payment. He watched the monitors in his office as the newly arrived Minbari cargo ship slowly maneuvered for docking with the Orbital Refinery Platform’s cargo loading bay.

Marcus had to concede that their cargo ships, like their transport ships and even their most lethal warships, were beautiful vessels. This one was a graceful-looking, brightly colored concoction sporting long tapering wings, yet still managed to convey a sense of muscular power. It was like the Minbari themselves, a deceptively frail-looking appearance that belied the true strength beneath.

He’d been a very young draftee during the war and had never seen combat, but he’d seen enough that even now the Minbari ships, for all their aesthetic appeal, put a chill down his spine.

That didn’t matter. Business was business, and the Minbari were good customers. Besides, the captain and crew of these vessels tended to be worker caste, not military caste, and though hardly gregarious, they were usually pleasant enough. He returned to his paperwork and didn’t give it another thought until several hours later when his secretary buzzed him to announce the arrival of the Minbari captain.

Marcus remained seated at his desk. The Minbari didn’t shake hands, and didn’t expect him to stand. In fact, wishing to finish a particular report, he didn’t even look up from his computer screen when the Minbari entered the room.

“Just one moment, please,” he said, entering a couple more keystrokes. Then he looked up – not into the face of a Minbari, but of his brother William, grinning broadly at him. For a moment his brain wouldn’t process what he was seeing, and he froze, half turned from his computer, just staring at the familiar face.

“Well, are you going to say hi, or are you just going to sit there like a dead fish gaping at me?”

Marcus stood. “William, what–“ but nothing else came out. Looking around for some explanation, he finally noticed that the Minbari captain was in the room, standing rather deferentially, it seemed, near the door. “How – where -“

“Who and why,” his brother finished for him, laughing. “Geez, it’s good to see you, Marcus. Sorry to surprise you like this. Not that I didn’t get a kick out of it. But listen, I’ll explain everything to you in a while. I believe you have some business to attend to first.”

William turned to the Minbari captain and spoke to him in what Marcus recognized as the military-caste dialect. The captain bowed slightly to him and approached. A now even more astonished Marcus could hardly concentrate on the business at hand as he hurried the Minbari through all the necessary paperwork. William watched silently, grinning with delight all the while, until the Minbari captain concluded his business with Marcus. The captain then turned to William and again they spoke in the military dialect. This time Marcus made a point to concentrate to see if he could catch what they were saying.

It seemed his little brother was instructing the Minbari to wait on the ship. The Minbari bowed and left. William then turned his attention to appraising the cluttered office, its plain metal desk and office chair, two angular chairs for visitors, computer console, battered filing cabinets, and bare walls.

“Uncomfortable, but at least it’s messy,” William said, teasing. “You know if you just removed that one photo on your desk, you could purge this room totally of all personality.”

Marcus was still too stunned to really be aware what expression was on his face, but whatever it was, it caused his little brother to smile even more broadly. “We have a lot to talk about. Is there any place a little more comfortable, and a little more private, we could go to?”

Marcus nodded. He informed his secretary he’d be unavailable for at least the next few hours, and led his brother through the maze of corridors. Any question he attempted was met with a “let’s wait until we get to your quarters,” so they walked in silence most of the way. It was only then that he had a chance to wonder about the strange outfit his brother was wearing, complete with some sort of jeweled pin near his right shoulder. By the time they reached his quarters, it was the first thing Marcus wanted to ask about.

“What are you wearing, anyway?” he inquired, as he closed the door behind them. “Is that Minbari clothing?”

“In a sense, yes,” said William. “It’s the uniform of the organization I belong to.”

“Uniform? Oh, God, Willie, what have you gotten yourself into now?”

For the first time, William’s relentless good cheer faltered, just a little. He hated being called Willie, as Marcus well knew.

“Something very important, big brother,” he said seriously. “It’s the reason I’m here.” He took a seat on the battered couch and waited. Marcus pulled over the only armchair and also sat down.

“Okay,” Marcus said. “So what are you doing here? And just what the bloody hell have you been doing on Minbar? Or perhaps I should ask, what have they done to you?”

William’s grin returned. “Aren’t you at least a little happy to see me?”

“I’d be a lot happier if I thought you’d come here for some useful purpose, like finally taking up your share of the burden around here, helping out with the family business.”

“Burden.” William repeated back at him. “Interesting choice of words.”

“Oh, I forgot,” Marcus shot back. “Life is just supposed to be a round of endless fun. Isn’t that your philosophy, if we can dignify your irresponsibility with that word?”

“Responsibility is exactly why I’m here.”

“Yeah? Responsibility to your family? Are you here to finally live up to that? It was nice of you to attend the funeral. Or is that the end of your responsibility?”

William was clearly taken aback by Marcus’s vehemence, and for the first time no longer seemed so sure of what he wanted to say. His expression clouded, and when he spoke, it was in a low, intense voice.

“I loved Mother and Father every bit as much as you did.”

“You had a rather peculiar way of showing it.”

“No, you do!” William stood up angrily. “They wanted us to have lives of our own. You wanted to take up the family business, and that was fine. I know it made Father happy. But I wanted something else, and that was fine with him too. Mother, also. After all, she wanted Father to ease up a little himself, not to work himself to–“

“To death?” Marcus said, standing to look his brother in the eyes.

“Yes, like you’re doing now, for no reason. Mother couldn’t convince Father to ease up, and she couldn’t convince you, though I know she tried. She didn’t want this for you, not if it made you unhappy. She didn’t even want it for herself. She tried to tell you it was okay to let it go after Father died. And I know Father wouldn’t want you making yourself miserable over this.”

“Just where do you think you know anything!” Marcus said angrily. “I have a responsibility. This is his legacy, to both of us.”

“God knows I don’t know you anymore,” replied William in a quiet voice. “Our parents’ legacy was how they raised us. To think for ourselves and be ourselves. You always hated life on a mining colony. You wanted to travel, maybe be a pilot. I remember how you used to tell me of all the adventures you were going to have when you were grown up.”

“Well, I did grow up, and discovered life isn’t an adolescent fantasy,” replied Marcus, “which brings us to that – costume you’re wearing.”

“That’s what I came here to talk to you about,” said William, suddenly laughing. “But some things never change. ‘Hi, brother,’ I said, and the next thing I know we’re screaming at each other.”

Marcus didn’t smile. But neither was he angry anymore, just weary. “Why did you come here?”

“To present you with an offer,” William said solemnly, “and an opportunity.”

He sat back down, and after a moment so did Marcus.

“I’m listening,” said Marcus.

His brother began to spin what seemed to him a wild tale of the awakening of an ancient alien species called the Shadows that threatened all life in the known galaxy, and how a legendary Minbari military organization called – of all things, thought Marcus – the Rangers had been called once again into existence by one Jeffrey Sinclair to combat that threat. And how Humans and Minbari were now equally allowed to be a part of this honored group.

“I only went to Minbar because I’ve always been fascinated by Minbari culture,” William was saying. “But on the very first day, I actually met Ambassador Sinclair and we talked. I was sure I’d made an idiot of myself I was so overwhelmed at meeting him. But then a few weeks later he summoned me back to his office to offer me the chance to train with the Rangers. He said he saw something in me from the start, and wanted me to be among the very first group. I could hardly believe it.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” said Marcus. Had his brother taken leave of his senses altogether? “You haven’t said one thing that makes any sense. Minbari mumbo jumbo and mysterious aliens that are somehow wreaking widespread destruction with only a few people actually knowing about it. What game are you playing at?”

“It’s not a game at all,” said William. “The Shadows are a real threat. Certainly you’ve heard the stories, ships in hyperspace and on the Rim that have encountered unknown alien ships that are as black as the darkness between the stars. There have been some very narrow escapes.”

“Yes, and people used to talk with the same straightfaced seriousness about the abominable snowman, the Loch Ness monster, ghost ships, and the Bermuda Triangle. They’re all folktales, Willie, like your Shadows. It’s all preposterous. Now you said you had an offer and an opportunity to put before me. I haven’t heard either one yet, though I’m not sure I really want to.”

“All right, the offer,” said William. “The Rangers need reliable sources of Q-40. I told Ranger One that you might be willing to strike a deal with us.”

“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said since arriving. I’m always happy to consider a paying customer.”

“We also want to ask you to consider letting the Rangers have a permanent presence here – a very discreet presence. Not only to ensure the supply of Q-40, but to set up a listening post to watch for Shadow activity in this area.”