Babylon 5 - Blood Oath

CHAPTER 12

G'kar nestled in Da'Kal's bosom, trying to tell him­self he didn't have to get up, he didn't have to leave. But he knew it was a lie. He knew as surely as his name wasn't Ha'Mok that he was neglecting urgent business, including friends who were taking risks for him. He had come to Homeworld to squash his enemies, not to take pity upon them and bequeath a substantial amount of cash to them! Yet that is precisely what had happened, all because he was soft and couldn't resist a woman's arms.

Quite a woman's arms they were, he had to admit. Many men would never have neglected a prize like Da'Kal for any amount of promotions and honors, but G'Kar wasn't many men. If he had been, he doubted whether Da'Kal would have wed him. He was not an ideal choice for her—a young Narn from a lesser circle with nothing to show but war medals—but she had been an ideal choice for him. Under her tutelage, he had learned how to curry favor and rise in the circles, and he had quickly surpassed her in ambition and ruthlessness. She took pride in his accomplishments, but she also main­tained a distance, as if he were an experiment gone awry.

Da'Kal never seemed surprised at what he did, even this latest ploy. Despite all the other women, she was truly the only one for him, but she was never enough to keep him from his destiny. He had a role to fulfill on Babylon 5 that went beyond the petty concerns of Narn society; every day he spent there convinced him of it. However, his career seemed less important than ever at this moment.

G'Kar pressed himself against Da'Kal's compact body, and she moaned at his touch but remained asleep. Despite his resolve to leave, he didn't want to. He had to admit that even G'Kar of the Third Circle, Ambassador to Babylon 5, the most important diplomatic post in the Regime—even he needed comfort and forgiveness. G'Kar welcomed the blissful amnesia of lovemaking, which had always been so satisfying with Da'Kal. Every molecule of her body had belonged to him once, and he knew how to please each of them. This night reminded him of their earliest nights together, when she had taken him in, and he had been the grateful one.

For an instant, he wondered if he and Da'Kal could simply run away together, leaving the rigid society and impossible commitments of the Narn Regime far behind them. They could be like this—a plain man in love with a plain woman—and maybe then he and Da'Kal could really build a life together. But he worried that his self­ishness and ambition were too deeply ingrained. He was already plotting how to escape.

In her sleep, she twisted away from him, and he used that moment to slip his arm free and rise to his feet. It felt odd to have to steal away from his own bedroom, but G'Kar hadn't earned the right to remain here. He scooped up his clothing and dashed into the sitting room. As he pulled on his pants, he remembered that he was officially dead; if there was ever a time to start a new life, this was it. Then he shook his head. G'Kar had too much to live for, and the sooner he set matters straight with the Du'Rog family, the better.

He desperately hoped that Da'Kal's blood money would mollify the Du'Rog family, but he didn't think it would. When they found out he was alive, they would want more money, or his hide, or both. He had to meet face-to-face with that angry daughter, offer her a settle­ment that was good enough, or a threat that was strong enough. If he didn't have the courage to kill her, he would have to live with her. As tempting as it was, it wasn't possible to lie in Da'Kal's arms and ignore the past.

"Don't forget your disguise," said a voice. He turned around to find Da'Kal standing in the doorway, her robe hanging open. She tossed the spotted skullcap to the floor.

"It's not that I want to go," he said apologetically.

She smiled wearily. "You never want to go—it's always business, duty, or necessity."

"In this case, it's all three," said G'Kar, pulling on a boot. "But I'll be back when this is over."

"I suppose so. But will I be here when you come back?" Da'Kal shut the bedroom door softly, not slam­ming it, just shutting it.

With one boot on, G'Kar hobbled to her door and began to knock. Then he realized that he had nothing more to say to his spouse. She had heard all his excuses and rationalizations many times, and they didn't register anymore. She truly knew him better than anyone, his equal parts bravery and bluster, his independent, selfish streaks. One thing they had in common—they were both people of action. He marveled at the way she had moved decisively to appease the Du'Rog family, while he had let the situation fester for years. Physically, emotionally, socially, and in every other way they were suited to each other, yet he kept running off at moments when they could be getting closer.

That was the great gamble of their marriage, the risk he took whenever he left Da'Kal. Would she be there when he returned?

G'Kar sat down to pull on his other boot. Then he picked up his skullcap from the floor and carefully smoothed it over his real cranial spots. He reinserted the brown contact lenses that gave his face such a bland appearance. Once again, he was Ha'Mok, a simple crew­man from the K'sha Na'vas.

He went again to Da'Kal's door, wondering if he should give her a parting word. But he still had nothing new to say. In the end, neglecting Da'Kal could be the worst mistake of his life, much worse than smearing Du'Rog. One day, he knew, he would have to answer for his neglect of his marriage along with everything else.

He took a final glance at his disguise in the mirror and was satisfied. The Narn crewman pulled back the bolt, opened the door, and hurled himself into the blustery night. He put his head into the wind and strode down the walkway toward the bridge. He had told Na'Toth and the humans to wait for him in the tavern, but he had no desire to spend much time in a public place. He had taken enough risks already. The puny humans were probably cold by now, so they shouldn't mind returning to the K'sha Na'vas as soon as possible.

Figuring that he might as well summon the shuttle-craft, G'Kar took a small device from his belt. He pressed it, waited for the beep, then began to talk. "This is Ha'Mok to Captain Vin'Tok aboard the K'sha Na'vas. Come in, Captain Vin'Tok aboard the K'sha Na'vas. Respond, please."

When no one answered, he studied the device and shook it in his ear. "Bah!" he muttered. "The Earthers make better links than this." He tried contacting the ship again, and this time he watched the read-outs.

Out of range?

How in the name of the Martyrs was that possible? G'Kar tried to stay calm. He and Vin'Tok had talked about the possibility of the K'sha Na'vas being re­assigned, or having to respond to an emergency. Both prospects seemed remote, given the K'sha Na'vas's high position in the fleet. Still, it would seem as if the K'sha Na'vas had left orbit; there was no other logical ex­planation for them being out of range. Under normal circumstances, G'Kar would have a dozen options, ranging from ordering another shuttlecraft to commandeering quarters in the nearest inn. Un­fortunately, the options of a dead man were limited at best.

Troubled, G'Kar put the device away and strode across the swinging bridge. This was a temporary incon­venience, he assured himself. The K'sha Na'vas might have left orbit to refuel, take on supplies, ferry crew members, or any number of errands. It didn't mean he was stranded here.

The soothing darkness on the bridge helped to calm his fears, and G'Kar convinced himself that his disguise was almost foolproof. Especially at night. Even Narns who knew him personally were not likely to pay much attention to him. All he had to do was find his friends, and they could put their heads together and decide how to proceed. The ambassador stepped determinedly off the bridge and headed for the tavern where he had left his comrades.

Laughter and raucous voices poured from the tavern and gave G'Kar a moment's hesitation. Then he reminded himself that Hekba City was a civilized place, without the usual riffraff. He puffed up his chest and entered the dusky tavern, thinking that he would have little difficulty locating three humans in this crowd. Even though he peered into every corner of the establishment, he saw only young Narns, the privileged sons and daugh­ters of the ruling circles. In his youth, he had tried to run with a crowd like this, but he had never been immature enough. He couldn't spend entire evenings frittering away his time, as they could.

"Are you lost?" a young aristocrat asked snidely. "This is no spaceport."

G'Kar started to scowl at him, then he remembered that they weren't seeing G'Kar of the Third Circle—they were seeing a common crewmember, a plebeian. He bowed apologetically and held out his hands.

"I was told there were human passengers in here. Has anyone seen my human passengers?"

"The humans left hours ago!" shouted the proprietor.

"And you will, too," added a customer, "if you know what's good for you!"

Now the raucous laughter was at his expense, but G'Kar kept smiling and bowing. He had spent so much time on Babylon 5 that he had forgotten how lower classes were unwelcome in certain neighborhoods after dark. G'Kar kept bowing politely as he backed his way out of the door, which caused him to run into a large Narn in a black uniform.

"Watch it there!" said a ranger from the Rural Division, shoving G'Kar aside. "Get back to your ship."

"Just leaving," G'Kar assured the ranger, almost scraping the ground with his bow. To demonstrate, he hustled up the walkway toward the rim of the canyon, and the ranger nodded with satisfaction and ducked inside the tavern. G'Kar did an immediate about-face and slipped past the tavern, headed deeper into Hekba Canyon.

Now he was worried. It was not a good sign that both the K'sha Na'vas and his comrades were gone. True, he had lingered much too long in Da'Kal's bed, and he couldn't blame the humans for not waiting hours for him in a slight chill. Plus, the clientele of the tavern had turned rather unpleasant. The humans had probably returned to the ship, G'Kar told himself. Yes, that was a logical explanation to one mystery, but it didn't explain why Na'Toth was gone. Na'Toth should have realized his precarious position and been there waiting for him.

G'Kar halted in the middle of his step. What if they hadn't gone back to the ship? Where would the humans go? To the warmer bowels of the canyon, he imagined, someplace he would not dare to go. They could get away with going down there, because they were off-worlders, but in his crewman's garb he would stand out like a Centauri's hair. Plus, he had no money, having given his emergency funds to Al Vernon. He could imagine his friends and acquaintances dining late in the grotto, by the warmth of the hissing geysers. Perhaps they were mak­ing a toast to his departed soul.

He looked up at the stars glimmering over the great slit in the planet, and he wondered what madness had brought him to this point. Alone, penniless, unrecog­nized in his hometown, and wearing the disguise of a simple crewman—he must have been atoning for some terrible sins. The idea of coming out in the open, reveal­ing all of his secrets, was beginning to appeal to G'Kar. What worse could Narn society do to him than he had done to himself? He was in a netherworld, neither dead nor alive, caught between the clay and the heavens.

G'Kar tried to mould into the shadows along the cliff face, hoping he could avoid the authorities for an entire night. He trusted Na'Toth to eventually return to the tavern, the place they had agreed to meet. Plus, he saw no reason to stray too far from Da'Kal's house in case he needed a genuine sanctuary. He thought about going back there now, but his pride wouldn't let him. If need be, he had his fake identicard and his excuse to be look­ing for human passengers.

G'Kar settled into a crevice in the rock, hoping the Earthers were passing a better evening than he was.

Outside the grotto, Ivanova, Na'Toth, and Garibaldi stared sullenly at each other. They were tired of dis­cussing what they should do. Na'Toth wanted to return to the tavern to look for G'Kar, and Ivanova wanted to contact Captain Sheridan. Al was still missing in action, so he couldn't be polled. Garibaldi was content to stand near a sputtering little geyser that stunk like a skunk but shot warm steam around his legs. All three of them wanted to contact the K'sha Na'vas, but that didn't seem to be an option. Even if they did contact the K'sha Na'vas, neither human wanted to brave the plunging tem­peratures at the top of the canyon.

"We can't abandon G'Kar," whispered Na'Toth, reviving her favorite argument.

Ivanova sighed. "We've gone out on plenty of limbs for G'Kar. Maybe it's time we started thinking about our mess instead of G'Kar's mess. We've been out of con­tact with our superiors for days, we're out of contact with the K'sha Na'vas, and we're aiding and abetting a fraud­ulent death scheme. Homeworld at night is colder than humans can stand, and we seem to have wandered into a ritzy nightclub section."

Garibaldi cut in. "Plus we lost Al, and he's my respon­sibility. Which way did you say he went?"

Ivanova sighed. "I told you, he took a right turn out of the grotto, and I lost him when I hit that cold spot."

"Right." Garibaldi's gaze drifted toward a Narn couple who were walking among the bubbling pools, and his gaze followed them into the grotto. Now he understood where G'Kar's overly mannered style came from; it was de rigeur among this class of people. Deeper inside the lush grotto, a colorful blimp moved among the aristo­cratic Narn, looking completely alien, like a parade flag slicing through a sea of bronze statues.

"Excuse me," Garibaldi told the ladies, as he took off at a jog. "Al! We're over here!"

"Garibaldi!" shouted the merchant, waving his stubby arms. The Narns regarded the uncouth humans through lizard-lidded eyes, but the two men converged and began to speak in low tones. The denizens went back to polite repartee.

"Where have you been?" said Garibaldi, suspecting that Al had given himself some extra time to conduct per­sonal business.

"I've been trying to find us a place to stay." The mer­chant sounded hurt at Garibaldi's accusatory tone. "And I've been successful, although it won't be cheap."

"Why am I not surprised?" Garibaldi scowled and turned around to see Na'Toth and Ivanova approaching. Neither one of them looked particularly pleased to see Al, and they regarded him with sullen faces.

"You're our guide, and we need some guidance," said Ivanova.

Na'Toth crossed her arms. "I am going to the top to wait for our missing comrade."

"Hold on just a minute," said Al. "Let me tell you what I've arranged. There are several inns here, but this is the social season, and they're all filled. However, I have prevailed upon an old associate, the manager of the Hekbanar Inn, to give us his second-best suite. I believe there are two chambers, and we can make the same sleep­ing arrangements we had on the K'sha Na'vas."

Garibaldi cleared his throat. "How much of a cut are you getting out of this?"

"My friend," protested Al, "you cut me to the quick! If you can make better arrangements, please do so. We're not going up to the rim tonight, so logic dictates that we have to spend the night down here. The sooner you accept that fact, the sooner we can make ourselves com­fortable." He winked at Na'Toth. "Besides, this is the most romantic time of year in Hekba City."

"I'm not staying," said Na'Toth. "I intend to look for Ha'Mok and contact the K'sha Na'vas, as was our origi­nal plan."

"Oh, yeah!" Al produced a fresh newspad and squinted at it. "I don't read Narn as well as I used to, but I take it there's been an alert at one of the colonies. Every ship in the Golden Order was summoned, including the K'sha Na'vas."

"That's highly unusual," said Na'Toth, grabbing the pad from his hand. "The Golden Order is the personal fleet of the Inner Circle, what you might call our last line of defense. This is terrible luck for G..." She started to say his name and caught herself on the first syllable. "Just everybody," she finished.

"Is the K'sha Na'vas really gone?" Ivanova asked.

Na'Toth flipped to another page on the pad and nod­ded her head slowly. "She's gone. Although the action would seem more a ceremonial show of force than an all-out battle. I suppose if you wanted to show somebody what a Narn fleet looked like, the Golden Order would be an impressive choice."

Al clapped his hands. "Let's not be so glum, shall we? I can tell you from experience, there are worse places on Homeworld to spend the night than the bottom of Hekba Canyon. And far worse lodgings than the Hekbanar Inn. And tomorrow, if you still want to go to the border zone, I'll take you there. Early morning, the temperature will be perfect, and that should be a safe time to go there. We don't need a shuttlecraft—there is public transportation."

"Is that right?" Garibaldi asked Na'Toth.

Na'Toth nodded her head absently. "We have excel­lent public transportation on Homeworld. After hearing this news, I am more determined than ever to find Ha'Mok. Hold the room for us—we will meet you at the Hekbanar Inn."

Al cleared his throat. "Are you sure you want to bring a common crewman down here? You know better than I..."

Na'Toth scowled. "We'll be careful." With that, the determined Narn strode off toward the grotto. Garibaldi watched her until she ducked under some dripping vines and vanished inside the cavern.

"Lead on," said Ivanova, with a resigned sigh.

An ebullient Al Vernon led them down the walkway, past the grotto, and through a stretch of classy boutiques, gaming parlors, and sidewalk cafes, interspersed with hissing geysers and smelly pools. The fancy watering holes were indeed packed, with Narns who were as stiff and well-behaved as mannequins.. Garibaldi had to remind himself that these effete-looking snobs were ruth­less conquerors who ruled dozens of solar systems and claimed vast expanses of space. A few generations back, they had been slaves. The Narns took stock of their vis­itors as they walked past, but they seemed fairly blasé about the sight of off-world dignitaries.

Garibaldi was actually getting used to the idea of spending the night in the lap of luxury. After all, luxury wasn't a condition in which he found himself very often. Maybe he shouldn't go kicking and screaming against the idea. Let Captain Sheridan deal with his expense account.

"You there!" he heard a deep-voiced shout.

All three humans stopped in their tracks and whirled around. Garibaldi spotted three Narns standing on a second-story balcony that overlooked a small cafe. The Narns in the cafe regarded the Narns on the balcony and nodded approvingly at them. Two of the Narns on the balcony were broad-shouldered males but the third one was an elegant woman wearing a black gown and golden jewelry.

"Earthers, may we talk with you?" spoke the deep-voiced man, this time sounding more polite.

Garibaldi shrugged. "Why not." He led his tiny party through the cafe to the patio beneath the balcony.

The two men stepped back, as if deferring to the woman, and she leaned over the balcony to study them. Now Garibaldi recognized her—it was the noblewoman who had attended G'Kar's memorial service, the same one who had been visiting G'Kar's widow when they showed up there.

"I am Ra'Pak," she said pleasantly. "And you are the delegation from Babylon 5. We have met twice today, but we didn't have the opportunity to talk."

She hadn't seemed very interested in talking to them either time, Garibaldi recalled, but they had her attention now. Before he could speak, Al made an exaggerated bow.

"Your Highness, I am Al Vernon, a former resident of this lovely planet. This is Commander Susan Ivanova and Security Chief Michael Garibaldi. It is an honor to address a member of the Inner Circle."

Ra'Pak nodded at the compliment. "I had no idea you would be spending the night in Hekba City. I simply want to make sure your needs are being met. Is there any­thing you require?"

Ivanova answered quickly. "We need to contact our superior on Babylon 5. The ship that brought us here was called away, and now we're not sure where to go."

The elegant woman straightened up and spoke to the man standing to her left. He nodded solemnly and went inside. Ra'Pak leaned over to say, "My cousin, who owns this villa, has consented to let you use his netlink. He's coming down to let you in. I hope you have a pleas­ant stay with us." With that, Ra'Pak glided back into the party room.

Garibaldi turned his attention to a door beneath the balcony; it looked like stained glass and twinkled eerily. He finally saw what made the strange twinkling lights when a tall Narn opened the door and held out a cande­labra filled with white candles.

He bowed politely. "Won't you come in?"

Al Vernon started to push past Garibaldi, but the secu­rity chief held out his hand. "No offense, Al, but we've got to talk privately to the captain."

"That's fine with me," said Al, pointing upward. "I'll be upstairs. When you get a chance to hobnob with these people, you do it."

Al brushed past him, and Garibaldi shrugged at Ivanova and followed him inside the villa. The foyer reminded the chief of a carnival funhouse, because the walls were dec­orated with some sort of mirrored surface that reflected the candlelight and made it appear as if flickering candelabras stretched into infinity. There were also gently pulsating lights in the ceiling and floor, which were both disorienting and oddly relaxing. He had to look away from the hypnotic flashes and concentrate on his host's face.

"I am R'Mon of the Third Circle," said the man with a somber bow.

"Terrible about Ambassador G'Kar, isn't it?" said Al morosely. "He was in his prime."

"He was gristle," said R'Mon.

"Yes, he was gristle," agreed Al, as if they had been close personal friends.

"Excuse me, sir," interrupted Garibaldi, "the lady said you had a netlink?"

"Yes." R'Mon bowed. "I am conducting a consider­able amount of business with Earth companies these days, so I'm on your central net. I am certain all your codes will work. Right this way."

He led them through a darkened boudoir that had faint echoes of fading comets streaking across the sky. They came upon a mirror that made Garibaldi look as chubby as Al Vernon, and R'Mon pushed the door open to reveal a well-appointed office.

Al stopped in the doorway. "Excuse me, sir, but I couldn't help smelling the tagro. Do you think I could have a sip of that ambrosia before we leave your splen­did villa?"

The Narn smiled. "Certainly, Mr. Vernon. Please come upstairs with me." He motioned to Ivanova. "Take your time, and when you are done please come upstairs. Join us in a toast to G'Kar."

"Thank you," said Garibaldi, looking doubtfully into the dimly lit room. "Excuse me, are we going to have privacy in here?"

"It is my private office," the Narn assured him. "My business depends on privacy."

The Narn motioned to Al, who was happy to lead the way out of the bedroom and toward the party. Garibaldi followed Ivanova into the office, which was austere in comparison with the rest of the exotic furnishings. The terminal was a universal type that Ivanova had no trouble deciphering. Garibaldi stood watching at the door and finally just shut it, thinking that if there were listening devices in the room there was little he could do about it. They had to trust R'Mon of the Third Circle, and they still had to be careful.

"The link is going to take a few minutes," said Ivanova, studying the board, "but the request is going through."

Garibaldi stuffed his hands in his pockets. "How do you want to handle this from here?"

The commander rubbed her eyes. "Provided we get a good night's sleep, I say we head off for the border zone first thing in the morning, like Al suggested. I'm almost inclined to tell Du'Rog's family the truth, so we can make it very clear why we don't want them to get near B5."

"That's fine with me," agreed Garibaldi. "But what are we going to do with Ha'Mok?"

"I don't know." Ivanova yawned, then gave him a smile. "Sorry."

"I understand. It's warm in here, and it's making me sleepy."

She was still yawning when Captain Sheridan's square-jawed face appeared on the central viewer. "There you are!" he said with relief. "There's a possibility that G'Kar may not be dead."

"We know all about it," said Garibaldi, leaning over Ivanova's shoulder. "This is not a secured channel, so let's not go into the gruesome details."

The captain nodded. "All right, but there's enough funny stuff in this matter that I'm recalling both of you. Get the K'sha Na'vas to bring you back immediately."

"The K'sha Na'vas got sent on a mission," said Ivanova, "and we still haven't talked to the Kha'Ri. We're sort of marooned for the night, but I think we'll be okay."

Garibaldi gave the captain a shrug. "Provided you'll approve our traveling expenses."

"Yes, yes, as long as you're trying to come back as soon as possible. I'll have Earthforce send a ship for you, but that will take a few days. If you can find any way to get home sooner, do it. Don't worry about how much it costs—I'll take it out of your bonuses." The captain forced a smile, telling them that he was worried and wanted to see them come home.

"We'll see you as soon as possible," Ivanova promised. "Considering this new information, we feel we should pay a visit to the Du'Rog family and warn them about staying away from B5. Believe me, we don't want to spend another night on Homeworld. Garibaldi says its colder than upstate New York."

"That's cold. Be careful."

"We're trying."