September, 2265; Minbari Flyer, over the North Pole of Minbar.
Tessa Halloran looked at the new ship slowly growing before her, and tried to decide what she felt about it. It certainly *did* look like a White Star, but while the White Stars looked threatening, for all intents and purposes...
This ship just looked downright *mean*.
The same basic shape was there, but the differences were equally noticable. The front end was far longer, thinner and more tapered then in the White Star class, with an enormous black blister of some sort on either side of and just behind the forward topside weapons emplacements...while along the curve of the rear superstructure, in between the main axis and the outboard engines, two long, tapered spikes could be seen. Were these weapons batteries, also?
By far the most *obvious* changes, however, apart from the fact that this command was easily twice as large, in every dimension, as any White Star vessel ever built, were the following. First, while the central core of a White Star was hollow, this one's core was quite solid, implying at least several more decks, and who knew what else, contained within.
Second, the oddly-pronged main armament on the nose was unlike *anything* she had ever seen before. And finally, there was a third outboard engine, beneath the main body.
"For that to be the name of this ship seems to be, shall we say, all too appropriate, if I may say so, Mr. President." she finally said.
"Almost has a predatory look, doesn't she?" Sheridan mused. "From what little Delenn has told me about this design, that was entirely the idea, Ms. Halloran. The SHARD OF NIGHT is designed to do three things, and three things only. First, you may note the colour."
"Or rather, the lack thereof."
Sheridan conceded the point. "She's designed to be the stealthiest warship the Minbari have ever constructed...far harder to find and to see then anything they've ever built before...to hide from all known Alliance technologies, and to anticipate those we don't know about yet. Secondly, to perform its missions more capably then any Minbari ship that has come before it, with self-repair and countermeasures systems a generation more advanced then in the White Star class. And lastly, when subterfuge fails, she has the teeth to go one on one with a full-sized destroyer-class vessel...and with luck, *win* that encounter.
For all the above reasons, and despite its relative small size, the Interstellar Alliance has decided to classify this vessel as a battlecruiser."
"And what exactly prompted you to turn this miracle of modern Minbari engineering over to *my* division, Mr. President? I mean, even though some of the missions you've asked us to perform in the last little while have been difficult ones...most of them are going to become remarkably easier with the use of...*this* ship." Tessa turned her gaze back to the SHARD OF NIGHT, as the flyer slowly moved in behind the warship, heading for its hangar bay. "Perhaps too easy; whatever operatives I assign to use this ship may lose their edge through complacency, Mr. President; I won't have that."
Sheridan nodded. "That's a lot of difficult questions and comments you've posed there, but they're all good ones...so let me start from the top.
Delenn was the one, in the end, who arranged for this ship to be transferred to ISA juristiction At the same time, although she won't tell me all the details, it also seems likely that the Minbari group responsible for its construction was none too happy about their new toy being taken away, so soon. Delenn made it emminently clear to me *why* that was done, though. As long as she's alive, she's going to strive to keep the castes in balance; and that includes any splinter group, or more, that tries to upset the status quo, especially from behind the scenes."
"Which all makes sense, after the civil war she helped to defuse back in '61. So, once she told you, Mr. President, you had to make up your mind which division of the ISA would most benefit from the use of the SHARD OF NIGHT."
"Exactly. The Rangers, for now, have no need for her...that may change in the future, but for now, the White Star Fleet has more then enough firepower to take care of any local squabbles between ISA members, as well as repel any dangers from exterior powers like the Drakh, until the new destroyers come online. And that left the Covert Intelligence Division...your command.
*Now*, as for the issue of your operatives losing their edge through complacency, I don't think you have to worry about that a whole lot. As I have learned the hard way, with increased power, you always get increased responsibility. The missions I've sent your team on over the last two and a half years have been limited only by your resources...that will now change. The missions you will now be capable of will push your people to the edge of the envelope...and beyond.
Although I have no doubt that they will succeed in those missions...you've never let me down yet."
"Nor do I intend to, Mr. President...that's not my way." With that decisive statement, she felt a slight jarring vibration pass through the body of the flyer, and realized that in the ensuing conversation, the flyer had probably docked with the SHARD OF NIGHT. "We appear to have arrived at our destination."
"Indeed we have!" the President replied, as he indicated that she should walk at his side, and they left the viewing chamber together. "Now, we get to see whether or not the decisions we've made here today, are the right ones or not..."
* * *
The corridors of the new ship were, as was traditional, styled after the Minbari standard, but that standard seemed to have been refined somewhat in the SHARD OF NIGHT. The walls of the corridors were a backlit mix of pale gray, dark gray and rose, while every twenty feet or so, tall, black, curved pillars rose, ribbed and cored with lights. Forever in the background was the deep thrumming sound of the warship's powerful main drive...a noise that, no doubt, gave some of the crew comfort, but not her. That noise, thankfully, seemed to recede somewhat as they moved forward, however.
Another notable point was the following: the corridors bustled with Minbari, and a substantial portion of these seemed to be Warrior Caste. Tessa turned to the President, one eyebrow raised in inquiry, as they followed the first officer of the warship, a Warrior Caste Minbari named Drakan, towards the bridge and his Captain.
"That's part of the bargain that Delenn made with the builders." Sheridan replied grimly...and quietly. "While I don't like it, for now I have to live with it. And until I can find a satisfactory reason to give this ship to the Rangers, that's the way it has to stay."
"Why do I get the feeling that the word 'satisfactory' in that sentence, means the same as 'soon as possible'?"
"Because it would be true." Sheridan replied, as they reached the bridge, and approached the doors, which obediently moved aside, revealing yet another surprise in the legion that had descended upon her since she had first seen the SHARD OF NIGHT. From time to time, she had travelled on White Stars, and had seen the bridges of those tiny, fast ships...she'd assumed the bridge of this ship would be *something* like that. In a few respects, it was...
But for the most part, it definitely wasn't. The bridge of the SHARD, as far as she could tell, seemed to be two oval chambers laid together at the rim. The forward chamber housed an operational configuration similar to a White Star's, with at least seven primary stations visible at a quick glance (the Captain's chair in the middle, with six more stations for standing personnel in a hexagon around it) while the center of the rear chamber was dominated by what seemed to be a rather large holographic imager. She smiled; she could see how the imager might prove useful in some situations she could imagine.
Additionally, in between what amounted to about half a dozen engineering and scientific stations scattered around the bridge perimeter, there were two more closed doors on either side of the rear chamber. What lay beyond those doors was, for now, unclear.
Meanwhile, the bridge was absolutely packed with Minbari Worker Caste personnel, in the floor, in the ceiling, and everywhere else that mattered, while great coils of what appeared to be glowing crystal were wound out of hatches in close proximity to all the Minbari workers. Orders were being shouted, tools waved in the air...the scene could almost be called chaos.
In short, exactly what every new ship in the galaxy looked like, prior to its first operational cruise...or so she was given to understand!
"Ah!" A tall, nearing-middle age Minbari strode out of the gaggle of technicians filling the bridge, bowed briefly to Drakan, who bowed in return, before going about his duties. "Mr. President!...Miss Halloran. Welcome to Vi'dalae An'shaka...what you would, in your language, call the SHARD OF NIGHT. I am Captain Rahkeel, of the Storm Dancer Clan; I am at your service for the duration of your stay, here...I suspect, however, due to current conditions, that this may be shorter then even I would wish.
Additionally, I must apologize for not meeting you in person, but upon your arrival, as you can see, we were and still are, dealing with yet another 'minor' crisis in shipwide systemics...I believe you humans term such matters 'getting the bugs worked out of the system?'"
Sheridan laughed politely at the small joke. "Does seem to be the case, doesn't it, Captain? Build a new ship, use an untried design, and even with the best engineers you can find, there's always *something* that goes wrong...or, usually, a host of little somethings."
Rahkeel chuckled in turn. "Indeed that is so...Mr. President. But let us put small talk aside for the moment, and come to the real reason you have come here this day: to learn about the Interstellar Alliances's newest and most secret warship...far more secret, you must admit, then even the far larger and equally complicated hybrid destroyers you are currently having built. But there is a reason for that; a very good one, as you will soon see.
For the SHARD OF NIGHT is the first and, I fear, the last of her kind to ever be built, due to the extreme expense incurred in that construction."
"If I may inquire," Tessa intejected, as the three made their way slowly around the catwalk on the perimeter of the rear chamber, passing several very interesting looking stations in the process...she knew a few humans who would kill for the visual technology in those stations alone... "Why so expensive? On the way over, the President told me this ship cost as much, or more, to build as one of your heavy cruisers."
"That is *indeed* the case." Rahkeel admitted, a trifle grimly, as they passed through the portside hatchway, and into a surprisingly well-windowed conference room, at which point Rahkeel gestured Sheridan and Tessa to take a seat. "This ship was meant to be an experiment, you see; while the Sharlin heavy cruisers continue to perform their assigned duties well, and may, if all goes well, serve us for many more cycles, our engineers, as yours do, continually *strive* to work at the limits of their skills, creating new, dramatically different concepts and ideals.
And to that end, eight of your years ago, when the first operational White Star was nearing completion, an engineer at one of our largest design consortiums began to make himself noticed. He had helped to design *many* of the systems in the White Star Class, and had not stopped at that, oh no. Filled with the need to better what had been done already, this Minbari, Varsak by name, began to see whether or not an operational *successor* to the Sharlin-class cruiser could be built...a much smaller ship to do, essentially, the same job, but with newer technology.
Then, of course, the Great War occured...followed shortly by our Civil War, and Varsak's grand concepts fell on deaf ears; for at the time, other problems of state needed to be corrected, first."
"The Gray Council deemed it more necessary to repair the cities damaged in your Civil War." Sheridan noted, "And so, for a while, funding would have been scarce for what Varsak was trying to accomplish. But eventually, that situation changed."
"Exactly, Mr. President. As the Alliance began, with our aid, the work on the Hybrid Advanced Destroyer project, the funding that Varsak was looking for became available from sources that must, as you understand, remain classified for the time being. Within a *very* short time period, he arranged to have a team assembled, and work on this ship, the prototype of his new class, begun."
With a wave of one hand, Rahkeel darkened the room, and called a holographic impression of the SHARD OF NIGHT into being over the table. "Varsak was impressed with the Vorlon technologies used to protect the skin of the White Star Class, but he did not feel the technology had been taken far enough along...he believed that the design of the White Stars had been too rushed. To balance this, Varsak proposed to construct a warship along the same lines, but more carefully thought out...better protected, and far, FAR more heavily armed...while at the same time, nearly as maneuverable and *easily* as fast as the prior design."
Rahkeel fixed each of them in turn with a calm, measured look. "He has succeeded, Mr. President...but in that success, he managed to make the concept of a class of this type nearly impossible. For this is the *first* thing that makes this ship what it is, President Sheridan, Miss Halloran...
The outer hull of this vessel is constructed completely out of the semi-Vorlon organo-composite material designed for the White Star class."
"Completely?" Sheridan exclaimed. "Hell, no wonder this ship was so expensive to build! The layer in the White Star Class is, if I understand it, only about what...a quarter of an inch thick?"
"Correct, Mr. President. In the SHARD OF NIGHT, we are talking, instead, about a multi-layered hull more then three of your feet thick, and since this ship is twice as large as a White Star in every dimension, the cost was...substantial, and difficult for many to accept. But this has resulted in something I consider to be *remarkable*...Varsak believes that this ship could have taken several direct hits from a Shadow warship main weapon...and survived to continue the battle, with only minor damage."
"Impressive, if it's true. Unfortunately, we're four years too late to test that hypothesis, Captain!"
A slight smile touched Rahkeel's face, at that comment. "And that is all to the good, in my opinion; I have no good memories of that time...but to continue. While the defensive weapons of this starship are impressive, the offensive capabilities are equally notable.”
As Rahkeel spoke, various elements of the holographic model glowed in turn. “The main weapons array, a hybrid Vorlon-Minbari design based partly on the research undertaken for the Hybrid Destroyer Project, is equal in strength to a main battery on a Sharlin heavy cruiser...but there is a downside, of course. While this weapon is operating, many other ship's systems will unfortunately diminish in effectiveness for a short period of time. As both your own engineers and Varsak have determined, there is no escaping from that fate on a ship this size, even with a fusion reactor *dedicated* to weapons output.
The two secondary weapons batteries, which you would have noted between the two upper outboard engines on your final approach, are each equal in strength to the main battery on a White Star. And finally, if the SHARD OF NIGHT must fight in close quarters with fighters, there are a variety of stationary and trackable tertiary batteries at various points on the ship's outer skin...a total of nine such installations exist, in all."
"I like what I've heard so far, Captain..." Tessa interjected at that point, drawing Rahkeel's attention away from Sheridan, for a time. "The offensive and defensive capabilities of this design, combined with what the President has already told me about its stealth capabilities, begin to make me think that my Division can put this ship to good use. But how easy are some of the more normal ship's systems to use? What little I saw of the bridge makes me think this is going to be one *Hell* of a difficult beast to operate."
"You are correct in that assessment." Rahkeel replied. "Miss Halloran. This ship is designed by Minbari, for Minbari. And since I am given to understand that a good number of your Covert Intelligence operatives are human, I fear that they will have great difficulty understanding our systems, without many months of training. Months you do not have to waste on such matters. As such, the crew I have assembled will take you where you need to go, and support you in your missions. Drakan, I, and many of the other officers possess a fluent understanding of Human English...you will have no difficulty giving us orders we can understand."
At that, a chime sounded, and a voice rattled off a string of words in Minbari. Rahkeel thought for a moment, and then barked a single word in response, before returning his gaze to the other two. "For now, though, I fear that a new situation has arisen which I must...attend to. I will have a member of the crew bring you refreshments if you wish to..."
"No, I don't think that Ms. Halloran and I should take up any more of your valuable time for now, Captain." Sheridan replied, rising to his feet. "We really should be on our way back down to Minbar, as a matter of fact. Once you've taken care of all the preliminaries, and the SHARD OF NIGHT is ready to go on its first mission, just let me know. Then I'll let my Director of Covert Intelligence know the good news."
"And as you say, the 'fun' can begin." Rahkeel wryly noted. "Thank you, Mr. President; it is not every leader that is as understanding as you, but there is, I suppose, a very good reason for that. Good day to you both." And then, Rahkeel was gone.
"They're never going to let you forget that, are you?" Tessa commented, as she and the President made their way off of the bridge, and back towards the hangar bay.
Sheridan snorted. "They'll be telling their children that Delenn was responsible for teaching me table manners next, I suppose..."
"Which is partially true, though, isn't it?"
"Just don't tell *them*, that."
"Heard and *understood*, Mr. President."
* * *
Early October, 2265.
The Anla'shok Main Compound; Tuzanor, Minbar.
For now, the outdoor practice circle was silent and dark, but it *was* late, there were no observers or watchers to see what was about to occur. Exactly the way that she wanted it. There were no distractions, no comments to be barely heard. There was only the battle between Master and Student...a battle with a history rooted in the sands of time.
A Ranger stepped into the circle, and raised her gaze to the stars above...and the Night between them. The Night that threatened, the Night that waited for them all. The Ranger was young, in her mid-twenties by human reckoning, and dark-haired, as was nearly all her race. This Ranger did not, however, reckon her years as humans did...for *this* Ranger was a child of Brakir, near unique among the Anla'shok.
Klairika Alidiae let her left hand slowly sink down to rest on the denn'bok that hung at her waist, a weapon honorably earned from the human she had come here to meet, tonight, and did *not* move her free hand to wipe away the stinging tears that hung at the corners of both her eyes. That would be showing weakness, and she would not bow to that fate...EVER. She would be strong, in her father's memory.
At that, unbidden, her memories of the Time of the Comet, the Day of the Dead, came back to her...a time of renewed pain, of destiny, and of farewells. Of herself, waking to find her father in her room, a father who had died in the first Shadow attacks on Brakiri space back at the start of the Shadow War...
* * *
More then three years before...The Day of the Dead.
"We felt no pain..." Zhaiykat Alidiae mused, as his longhaired daughter huddled in her bed, her face streaked by tears. "There was not enough time for that! The Shadows came upon us, and destroyed my ship...and for a time, it seemed as though I slept in peace. But then the Day of the Dead came, as I knew it would, and I awoke to find myself here."
"Why did you come back? Why did it have to be *you*, father? I have spent the past four Xhakra resigning myself to the fact that you were dead, that my life had to go on. And then...and then, the Day of the Dead happened again. I was...I was afraid it was going to be you. I...I guess I *knew* it was going to be you, come to visit me. I didn't want it to be, but it was..."
"Necessary?" the elder Alidiae replied, nodding somberly. "Yes, my Dear One!...to all things there is a time, and a necessity. I know that my time here will cause you pain, but there is no escaping from that; there is something I must tell you, something that will also cause you pain, but it *must* be said. The time is coming soon when you must leave your mother, Klairika, for your own good, *and* hers."
"Your death destroyed her, father! I am the only thing she has left!"
"Yes...and therein lies the problem, Dear One. As time passes, and you grow older, there will come a moment, soon enough, when the ties that bind you to her will become too strong to break. She will add reason on top of reason to keep you here on Brakir, and objection on top of objection to stop you from leaving. I cannot allow that to happen, for I have learned things about you that even *you* may not believe. And unless you leave her, and your world of birth, there will come upon the universe a time of great death and failure, and the failure will, to a great extent, be your fault."
"Wha...Father, what is this you are saying? *I* will be responsible for this death, this failure?"
"Yes, you will...through inaction, and lack of belief in yourself."
"But how can I act to stop this? If I try and run away, but cannot find a way off of Brakir, I fear she will use her contacts amidst the Krona to make life difficult for me!"
Her father conceded the point. "This is indeed so; even when I was alive, she misused her seniority and authority in matters such as these...and because of my choice in career, I was never there to moderate those choices. Klairika, you *must* leave her, and you must also use any means necessary to escape Brakir...or she will try and destroy you. There is an organization you must seek out, if you wish to stop the fate I have mentioned from coming to pass.
The organization is named...ANLA'SHOK."
At that, her eyes widened. "Anla'shok? The Rangers? Father, they are...they are heroes to so many of us! The stories that are told...how the human, Sheridan, lead the Rangers and their White Star Fleet against the Darkness, and banished it...are well known.
And you wish me...to become one? To become Anla'shok?"
Her father nodded. "Yes, Klairika...in my memory, I ask it, for I see something you do not. The Darkness is not yet gone from the galaxy...even though the Shadows *themselves* are banished, the Darkness remains. And in time, that Darkness will reach out, and the fate I have mentioned will come to pass. It must not be allowed to happen, Dear One!...you must work to stop it from happening. You must leave your mother, and become Anla'shok...it is the only way. Only then can you find the Promised One, and fulfill your fate.
Do you understand, Klairika? *Will* you honour my last request?"
The pause was infintesimal...and final, even though there were some things that her father had told her which she didn't understand. "I will, Father...upon my heart, I swear. By your memory, I swear. It is sworn...it is *done*."
At that, the elder Alidiae smiled. "Then at last...I can rest...
In *peace*."
* * *
The present.
A faint footstep brought Klairika back to the here and now, and with one, sure movement, her warrior pike was in her hand, and extended.
"Who are you?" a familiar, steady voice demanded, from out of the darknes.
"I am a Ranger..." she replied, voice steady and sure. "I walk in the dark places no others will enter. I stand on the bridge, and no one may pass."
"Who do you serve?"
"The One."
"And what do you fight for?"
"Honour. Freedom. Duty."
"And is that enough?" Almost, she did not see the blow coming, but then Klairika turned, and with a flash of silver, raised her pike to parry the incoming blow from a weapon as old, if not older, then her own. The blow, as always, did not seek to injure, but to temper, and without thought, she settled into the dance this human woman had helped to teach her, two human years before...a human who was now a close friend. A dance of dignity, and of strength, a dance that had helped to teach her what she was, and what she wanted, and why.
And then, the other backed away, and lowered her pike, and Klairika did the same. And then, they bowed to one another.
"An honest match..." Jennifer Westcastle admitted, running one hand back through her slightly silver-streaked reddish-brown hair. "I'm pleased to see that a year out on the Rim hasn't blunted your abilities any, Klairika."
";Never. Even out in the Darkness, we are never alone; I remember you teaching me that even on a White Star, one can find a time and a place to practice the Dance."
"Yes..." Jennifer murmured, a faint smile on her face, "I did say that, didn't I?"
"Now...as for you, my friend, how goes the work on 'Storm Crosssing', if you don't mind me inquiring?"
"Slowly, far too slowly for my own peace of mind. The other day, I finally managed to get up to the point where we left Minbar for the first time. It seems so long ago now...I was so young and naive at the time, Klairika!...we believed that all alone, we could take on the universe, and come back unchanged." At that, Jennifer smiled bitterly. "The years proved me wrong about that...there has been so much sadness, so much loss..."
"And what of the victories? The love gained, in your path through the fire with the High Councillor? And of course..." Klairika wryly noted, "Your children."
At that, Jennifer turned in mid-step, and snorted. "There I go again, getting all morose about time passing. Sooner or later, you know, you're going to have to hit me on the head with that pike of yours...it might knock some sense into me, if I'm lucky."
"It is your right to feel the pain, but not, I hope, to grow too overwrought about the situation. It doesn't do us any good to destroy ourselves over past mistakes that we have no hope of correcting. It is the past, it is done; we must look to the future, and what is yet to be. And perhaps, if we do enough good, we will balance the scales as well."
"Who would have known, the day you became a Ranger, that the Anla'shok had gained a philosopher, as well?"
A shrug. "I am Brakiri. When one is part of the generation fated to talk to the Dead, one tends to get, as you say, a little philosophical about things."
"I can never tell, Klairika, whether or not you're kidding when you talk like this."
"That, Sech, is *entirely* the point."
* * *
Late October, 2265; the edge of Minbari space; in hyperspace.
"What have you found?" the Minbari captain demanded, as he came onto the bridge of his transport.
"We do not know what to make of this..." the pilot replied, his expression dumbfounded. "The entire line-of-sight along the beacon is *littered* with wreckage. It is as if a mid-sized vessel was simply torn apart, out here...we do not understand how this could have happened! None of our ships in that size category are on patrol in this area, and...*hold*." The pilot put one hand to the small receiver on his neck, near to one ear. "We are receiving a distress signal...it is of *human* type. Do we move to intercept?"
"Can we safely intercept the source of the signal, and maintain our lock on the beacon?" the Captain bruesquely inquired.
"Affirmitive."
"Then you may move to intercept. Notify the crew that we are attempting a rescue; if the pod is intact, and we can identify a life sign, they may have to investigate. Also, they are to enter the life pod armed; if the passenger turns out to be hostile, the passenger is to be disarmed, and disabled."
"Understood; changing course to intercept."
* * *
Shortly thereafter, the freighter located the survival pod, deep within the debris field, and brought it aboard. As soon as the pressure in the cargo bay equalized, two armed crew moved slowly and cautiously through the crude human airlock, and into the pod, to determine the condition of the human life form noted within. As soon as entry was achieved, it became clear to the Minbari that the situation had changed, quite dramatically so. The survivor was a female of the Human species, quite unconscious, but other then that, apparently unharmed. But this was *not* what attracted the most attention from the two Minbari...oh no.
What did was the black leather uniform the woman was wearing, complete with dark leather gloves, and a shiny metal insignia on one breast, that shouted, to the whole galaxy, what this woman was, and which organization she served, and how.
For this woman was a human telepath...a powerful one, to be wearing the uniform she was wearing. And, of course, a member of their Psi Corps.
By and by, the Minbari had heard rumours of the telepath conflict currently occurring back in Earthspace. How the conflict would end, none of them knew, but if this woman was the only survivor of an attack on her ship...if the aggressors were still out there, somewhere...then their own ship might be in danger, also.
But what would bring a human ship this close to the edge of Minbari space... especially a vessel quite obviously controlled by a senior member of their Psi Corps?
And then, the young human woman moaned, and the Minbari *instantly* became more alert, raising their weapons to the ready. They had heard of some of the policies instituted by these "Psi Police" and the methods used...while neither of them had any telepathic abilities to speak of, they decided that they would not allow themselves to be controlled. And then, the woman's eyes sprang open, and their fears became astonishment.
"Are you...oh, thank God! Minbari!" The woman sat up, and began to shiver. "I made it...oh thank you, Julia, you were right. I made it!"
"Excuse me. You are..."
"Everything that I seem to be, and nothing like you're expecting." the human replied, her voice crisp. "That is enough for you to know, for the present time. In fact..." with near revulsion, the woman picked off the omega sigil from the uniform, and then removed her gloves. "I don't need those, anymore, I suppose..."
"We do not understand. By your actions, are you...*rejecting* the laws of your Psi Corps?"
"That's right; and no, I'm not going to tell you why. You're not the ones I'm looking for; *they're* on Minbar...in Tuzanor, to be more specific. You wouldn't be going to Minbar by any chance, would you?"
"Tuzanor is the Headquarters of the Interstellar Alliance." the elder of the two Minbari heatedly interjected. "It is *understood* that your Psi Corps and the ISA are not on good terms at the moment...for all we know, you may have even been sent to help destroy the Alliance!"
The Minbari gestured his weapon in the telepath's direction. "You will explain to us your intentions, and reason for that request...*and* you will tell us your name."
"Well now..." the telepath replied, her face showing abject disappointment at how things had gone. "That was smart of me, wasn't it? Okay, let's start again...maybe it'll come out a little less arrogant, this time around. I need to go to Tuzanor; more specifically, I'm looking for a man named William Westcastle...you may have heard of him? As for the reason why, well, I'm seeking *sanctuary*... before someone else decides to take my head off.
And as for who I am, well I'm a Psi Cop, or at least I *used* to be. Human telepath rating...P12.