My eternal thanks to Lennier, who maintains a browser cache, for recovering the rest of Redux for me. What was lost follows. I don't like all of it, and some of it I'm going to change, but this is just beta, do recall. /forums/images/icons/wink.gif
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Na'feel sometimes hated Minbar with a passion she usually reserved for broken jump engines.
Na'feel's first view of Minbar - helped along by feeding her last five credits into a payviewer in the bowels of an ancient, sputtering Brakiri refugee freighter - had taken her breath away. It hung in space, surrounded by the predatory lines of thousands of Sharlins and Whitestars, untouched by the strife that had torn her homeworld apart. It was Na'feel's last hope of amnesty - her last hope of a future where she could do something, bring her years of experience running the engine rooms on countless supply vessels to good use - instead of continue with the bloody, terrible work of the Resistance.
She arrived on Minbar, carrying the clothes on her back, fifteen credits, a hastily-scrawled piece of parchment with the name of a contact at the Tuzanor Anla'shok training facility, no knowledge of Adronato - and a copy of the book of G'kar.
She hated the whiteness. She hated the blueness. She hated the soft pastel inland seas and the tall, thin, soaring mountains with their cold snows and icy, stabbing presence. She hated the way the brilliant Minbari sun reflected on the crystalline towers, sending her into fits of near-blindness, and she hated the silent streets of Tuzanor and their artificial, triangular setup. She hated Tuzanor herself, where she was the only Narn, the only outcast - hell, even the only amphibian. Minbar didn't even have amphibians, she had noticed.
for the sake of G'quan, she found herself muttering more than once a day. I'll never understand aliens.
G'kar had taught her tolerance through his words, but sometimes she just wanted to bring a torch to that irritiating, omnipresent Minbari haughtiness. During her training, she hardly left the Ranger compound, as it was designed to be far more welcoming, far more - universal, dark, and warm, she thought, then Tuzanor's wide, flood-lit avenues.
Na'feel, unfortunately, was getting a double dose of Minbari arrogance this morning - after nearly getting run over with nary an apology on the airfield by three worker-caste janitors on a cargo loader, she had spent an hour and a half (measured in Minbari time) attempting to convince the Regional Quartermaster's attendant that she was, indeed, qualified enough to service her very own Adin'ar-class injection system.
Na'feel wasn't usually the type that enjoyed throwing up her hands and retreating from the battle, and she got some perverse pleasure by saying to herself we complain for the One, we haggle for the One, but this was getting ridiculous. Keeping her voice carefully neutral, she informed the attendant that she'd return later and decided to take her chances with the rapidly-moving cargo loaders on the airfield. As she pushed open the door, she felt eyes boring into her back; without even turning, she knew that the young worker-caste attendant had been staring at her.
That's right, sweetie, Na'feel thought. Stare at the ugly alien.
Back against the crystalline building wall, Na'feel closed her eyes and listened, attempting to draw on some of her training to calm herself down. Drowning out the deathly silence of the Minbari afternoon was the clamor she loved - engines firing, tools clattering on the deck, somebody (a human, she guessed) swearing.
"I thought I would find you inside," an evenly-toned, distinctly Minbari voice said, breaking through her reverie. Startled, she looked up to see Dulann, his arms crossed neatly across his chest.
"All the hot air in there was giving me a headache," she replied, not exactly expecting him to get the reference. Humorless, those Minbari, all of them.
Dulann walked closer and smiled thinly. "You're impatient, Na'feel."
She regarded the Minbari, noting yet another case of trademark Minbari arrogance. Pity, I actually like Dulann, she thought. Even the best fail sometimes. "You know I could get that new injector configured in ten minutes, tops. of course I'm impatient."
Dulann nodded. "We know you could. The Shok'na, however, understands the necessity of abiding by the accepted regulations while we are in drydock. He expects you to do the same."
Na'feel bit her lip and nodded. "Of course," she said. That was another thing she wasn't yet used to - calling Martel "Captain," or "Shok'na," when she had spoken to her commanding officer in Narn for most of her life.
"I am returning to the Liandra," Dulann continued. "I thought you might enjoy some company."
Na'feel shook her head. "I think - I think I'll stay right here," she said. "They're about to finish, anyway."
Dulann inclined his head to the side, turned, and began to make his way across the airfield. She watched his receding back, trying to control a bubbling annoyance.
It was only then that she grinned and realized what Dulann had implied.
That cold Minbari bastard, she thought to herself. "While we are in drydock."
It wasn't such a bad day after all.
--
Dulann inferred that he had arrived back on the Liandra at the wrong time as soon as he was greeted with Kitaro's grin, his Captain's back, and a half-full basket of flarn - on his seat.
"Sit down," hissed Martel, apparently unaware of the obstruction "Quick." Relieved of the burden, Martel turned to Kitaro, adjusted his collar, and nodded. "Put him through." Dulann had barely seated himself - holding the basket in his right hand - when the viewer sprang to life in the guise of the ever-sour Mural, executive aide to Councillor Sindell and, in Dulann's estimation, a gaping, bleeding sore in the side of the Ranger establishment.
"Good afternoon, Captain," Mural said, his voice wedged into the constant unpleasant timbre Dulann had grown so accustomed to. "I know you're scheduled to depart within the week. However, we need you to make some time for a larger matter. The summit has demanded an additional deposition from the crewmembers who were present and directly involved with the destruction of the Valen and of the colony on Beta Durani 7."
Martel leaned forward. Tiredly, he regarded the councillor. "With all due respect, sir, but my crew has already been debriefed on the mission in question. What has been said is all that we know."
Mural's eyes narrowed. "I don't think I have to tell you the importance of this matter," he said. "If the summit believes there is missing testimony, I can't assure that the Rangers will be able to protect you."
"Yes, sir," continued Martel.
"Please have your command crew report to the Executive Building as soon as possible, Captain. You will understand our need to get the facts straight. Thank you."
Mural dissappeared and Martel leaned back in his chair, opening one eye to regard Dulann. Looking at his first officer, he hit a comm button.
"Sarah, come to the bridge," Martel said. "Bring your findings."