Babylon 5 - Blood Oath

CHAPTER 9

The Narn shuttlecraft plunged through the atmos­phere of Homeworld, heating up the cabin only a bit but causing a glorious light show outside the small port­hole windows. Garibaldi leaned forward to get a better look. Despite an entire career spent on hostile planets and space stations, he was still a tourist when it came to space travel. He still gawked while Al Vernon, for instance, snoozed noisily across the aisle from him.

The shuttlecraft sat eight passengers in two single rows of four seats with an aisle between them, so essen­tially everyone sat alone. There were only the four of them, and Ivanova and Na'Toth sat in the front row, con­versing in low tones. They were probably discussing how they should behave at the memorial service when they knew perfectly well that the deceased wasn't deceased. He guessed they would spend a lot of time looking grim and nodding somberly.

True to G'Kar's word, they hadn't seen him since their first day on the Narn vessel. The chief hoped that G'Kar had enough sense to stay on the K'sha Na'vas and not to go looking for trouble on Homeworld, even with his dis­guise. Garibaldi rubbed his hands nervously. This was only a day trip, he reminded himself, to attend the service, answer questions, and head back to the K'sha Na'vas for the night. Still, it felt funny to be descending upon an alien planet unarmed.

Suddenly, the flames outside the porthole vanished, and the shuttlecraft banked toward the surface, affording Garibaldi his first view of the Narn Homeworld. There wasn't a cloud anywhere in sight, and the sky had a washed out color, not the vibrant blue of Earth's sky. He wondered whether that had anything to do with the giant red sun that anchored the solar system.

The terrain that he could see had a rose-copper color, like the Black Hills gold his mother used to collect. He could see mountains, giant canyons, landing strips, and occasional patches and circles of green that he assumed were crops. As they swooped lower, he could make out grids of rectangular buildings and covered domes; smoke spewed into the air from what might have been a power plant or a smelter. Numerous low-flying aircraft dotted the sky.

Homeworld wasn't quite as barren as Mars, but it was hardly a flowering paradise. This was only one part of the planet, he told himself, but he knew Homeworld had very few bodies of water. Polar icecaps and underground streams supplied what little water the Narns needed. It wasn't like flying down to Earth, when all you could see were shimmering horizons of blue liquid. Garibaldi also reminded himself that the land had been stripped bare by the Centauri. They had withdrawn only after a war of attrition, when the Narn resistance had begun to cost them more than they were getting from the depleted resources and slave labor.

The shuttlecraft banked again and took a dive that left his stomach in a flux. Al Vernon blinked away beside him. "Are we there yet?" he muttered.

"I don't know," answered Garibaldi. "I don't know where we're going."

"Hekba City is quite a lovely place," said the mer­chant. "I believe it was G'Kar's hometown, although it's also one of the most hospitable cities for humans. You know, the temperatures on Homeworld can fluctuate wildly in the course of a single day."

Garibaldi lifted the heavy coat from his lap. "I know. But why should Hekba City be better than anyplace else?"

Al smiled. "You'll see. By the way, since you owe me five hundred thousand matchsticks, I expect you to buy me lunch."

"I think those cards of yours were marked," grumbled Garibaldi. Nevertheless, he owed Al something for mak­ing the days aboard the K'sha Na'vas pass fairly swiftly.

He stared out the porthole and could see that they were circling an immense canyon, and he feared for a moment that they were going to try to land inside it. At the last moment, the pilot veered toward a landing strip that skirted the rim, and he made a perfect three-point land­ing in the tiny craft.

"Hekba City," came a flat voice over the ship's inter­com, "on the rim of Hekba Canyon."

"Is this shuttlecraft going to wait for us?" asked Garibaldi of no one in particular.

"No," answered Na'Toth. She showed him a small handheld device. "I have the codes to summon another one."

The hatch opened with a clank and a blast of scorch­ing air flooded the cabin. Within milliseconds, Garibaldi was bathed in sweat, and his lungs felt as if they were on fire. He groaned out loud.

Ivanova rose slowly to her feet and stretched her arms. "Time to change into your speedo," she told Garibaldi.

"No kidding," he muttered. "Feels like a Swedish sauna."

"On the contrary," said Al Vernon, "this is quite pleas­ant." The portly man was dripping in sweat, but then he was always dripping in sweat. "Make sure you drink flu­ids whenever you have the chance."

Na'Toth was the first out of the craft, followed by Al Vernon, who seemed to be in an exuberant mood. Ivanova and Garibaldi staggered out after them. If the heat didn't take their breath away, the sight that greeted their eyes certainly did. A vast canyon yawned before them, and its walls were lined with a honeycomb of dwellings carved directly into the cliff. Some were the copper color of the rock, but most were painted in muted shades of red and rust. Garibaldi inched toward the rim of the canyon, but he couldn't see either the bottom or the end of the buildings.

"They go all the way to the bottom," said Na'Toth, as if reading his mind. "Our reptillian ancestors clung to the rocks, and so do we. At the bottom of Hekba Canyon is some of the most fertile farmland on the planet, with numerous hot pools and geysers."

"I doubt if I'll be going all the way to the bottom," said Garibaldi with a gulp.

Al Vernon chuckled. "You will want to go down there, once the cooling starts on the surface."

Garibaldi splashed the sweat from his brow. "The cooling can start anytime as far as I'm concerned."

"Come," said Na'Toth, leading the way toward a rock staircase with a wrought-iron railing. Al waddled eagerly after her, leaving Garibaldi and Ivanova to bring up the rear. Behind them, the shuttlecraft roared away, giving the security chief an uneasy feeling of being deserted.

Ivanova raised an eyebrow. "It's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here."

"I'm not even sure it's a nice place to visit," said Garibaldi, gazing up at the blazing red sun.

He had to admit, though, that Hekba City was fasci­nating. The Narns apparently didn't mind living like termites on a tree trunk, because people swarmed along the narrow walkways and the death-defying bridges that spanned the crevasse. The Narns glanced curiously at the humans whenever they passed them in close proximity, but Garibaldi saw a number of other off-worlders in the city, including several Drazi. As on Babylon 5, the Drazi appeared to be a worker class.

Na'Toth stopped to study some markings carved into the cliff face. "The sanctuary is on this side of the canyon," she said.

Garibaldi glanced at one of the swaying bridges. "Good."

In due course, they reached what seemed to be an older section of the city, formed of natural caves and in­dentations in the rock, with facades added later to afford privacy. In the yawning mouth of one of the caves, they saw a clutch of people who were milling about, waiting, making strained small talk. As the Terran delegation approached, Na'Toth put her fist to her chest in the Narn salute, and Al Vernon did likewise.

An elderly Narn in a crimson robe stepped forward to meet them. He bowed formally. "We welcome our friends from Earth, friends of G'Kar."

"It is our honor," said Al Vernon with a bow. "You are Y'Tok of the Second Circle."

"Yes," said the Narn with surprise. "Have we met?"

"I saw you give the convocation at the Blood of the Martyrs Ceremony," explained Al. "That was many years ago, but I have never forgotten it. Al Vernon is my name."

Y'Tok nodded, clearly impressed by the human's memory and knowledge of Narn affairs.

Na'Toth broke in, "Holy One, this is Commander Susan Ivanova of Earthforce, and Michael Garibaldi, Chief of Security on Babylon 5."

"We are honored that you chose to bring us here," said Ivanova.

"We did not honor G'Kar enough when he was alive," replied the priest. "It is our duty to honor him now that he is gone. We have a few moments—permit me to show you the sanctuary."

Y'Tok led them into the wide fissure in the rock, and Garibaldi was surprised to find that it widened even more, into a natural cathedral complete with stalactites and stalagmites. The air felt several degrees cooler inside, which was a welcome relief. For a holy place, the sanc­tuary was remarkably austere, with only a few weathered stone benches for furnishings and smoky torches for light.

"This is one of the oldest sites of our civilization," explained Y'Tok, his voice echoing in the chamber. "Our ancestors lived in this cave tens of thousands of years ago. But it only became a sanctuary during the Centauri invasion, when freedom fighters held out here for one thousand days—before starving to death. All such places where the Martyrs sought sanctuary have been given the status of holy sites."

"Even the Centauri revere this place," said Al Vernon. "They call it the Vase of Tears because of all the lives they lost here."

Na'Toth looked askance at the human. "I didn't know you were a Centauri scholar as well."

"I am well traveled, nothing more," answered Al.

A young Narn in a crimson robe came running up to Y'Tok. "Holy One, Mistresses Ra'Pak and Da'Kal are here."

Y'Tok nodded in acknowledgement, then turned to his guests. "One more thing—I have been instructed to tell you that a committee from the Kha'Ri will meet with you in two days' time."

"Two days' time?" asked Garibaldi. "What's the matter with right now?" The priest glared at him. "I mean, after this?"

The old Narn held up two fingers. "You will be our guests for two more days. Is it so bad?"

"That's fine," said Ivanova with a game smile.

The priest nodded and strode through the crowd, somberly greeting everyone he met. When the aged Narn was out of earshot, Ivanova turned to Na'Toth. "Who are Ra'Pak and Da'Kal?"

The Narn woman lifted her chin. "Ra'Pak is a mem­ber of the Inner Circle. It is a mark of considerable respect for G'Kar that she is present. Da'Kal is..." She hesitated. "Da'Kal is G'Kar's widow."

"Hmmm," murmured Garibaldi. He couldn't say any­thing more because Al Vernon was standing a meter away, listening intently to their conversation. He won­dered if Da'Kal knew the truth about her late, lamented husband.

Mourners began to file into the dingy recesses of the cave, filling every corner and even the spaces between the somber stalactites. In fact, the columns of calcified minerals seemed like especially respectful mourners, ghostlike aliens from eons long forgotten. Despite the crowd, it was cool and quiet inside the sanctuary, and Garibaldi began to feel an odd kind of peace. He wasn't much given to religion or sentimentality, but he could almost feel the presence of the long-departed Martyrs, granting their approval to this solemn occasion.

His reverie was short-lived, however, as acolytes in crude robes began to move around the cavern, sprinkling pungent incense on the torches. The young Narn in the crimson robe began to bang on a copper gong, and the chamber resonated with the metallic tone. Then the pro­cession began.

In the lead came Y'Tok in his flowing robe, and he was holding a bronze circle that was so old it was dis­colored with green and white spots. Very quietly he tapped the circle with a metal stick, and it provided an odd counterpoint to the loud gong. Behind Y'Tok came a plain-looking Narn woman who was bare-breasted and wearing rags. In fact, she kept ripping away at her clothes as if they offended her. Garibaldi felt embar­rassed, but he couldn't bring himself to turn away from the sight of the distraught woman. He knew without being told that she was the widow, Da'Kal.

Behind the widow walked a regal woman with an attendant holding her black robe off the dusty floor of the cave. That must be the Narn royalty, thought Garibaldi, Ra'Pak of the Inner Circle. Following her came several members of the Narn military, distin­guished by chests full of jeweled medals. The procession circled the immense cavern, passing within a meter of the humans. Garibaldi felt himself getting angry at G'Kar—that ingrate didn't deserve the two fine memorial services he had gotten. Coming back from the dead was going to be anticlimatic after this.

The procession moved toward the mouth of the cave, and the mourners pressed forward, carrying Garibaldi, Ivanova, Na'Toth, and Al Vernon with them. They emerged into the scorching daylight in time to see the grieving widow toss her rags over the cliff. They flut­tered downward, swirling around in the thermal updrafts. Then an acolyte handed her a small animal which looked something like a piglet. Da'Kal held the squirming crea­ture over her head and screamed something into the wind. Then she tossed the animal over the cliff, and it plummeted a kilometer or so to its death.

Al Vernon whispered in his ear, "In the past, a Narn widow was expected to die with her husband. Today, the animal dies instead."

An attendant came forward and wrapped a black robe around the widow's shoulders and led her away. Y'Tok beat on the discolored circle while the other priest banged on the gong, and a low moan rose from the gathered mourners. The moaning and drumming reached a crescendo at the same time, and Y'Tok ended the cere­mony by dropping to his knees and bowing to the canyon.

While Garibaldi looked on in a daze, someone pulled urgently on his sleeve. He turned to see Ivanova, and she was pointing toward someone in the crowd of mourners. He saw a young Narn woman wrap a cloak around her slim body and dash away. He recognized her in an instant.

It was Mi'Ra, daughter of Du'Rog.

"Wait here," he whispered to Ivanova, stuffing his coat into her arms. Before she had a chance to answer, he shouldered his way through the crowd and set off down one of the narrow walkways. His instincts told him that he might not get another chance to talk to his aveng­ing angel, and he had two things to say: First, that he knew she didn't kill G'Kar, and second, that she had better stay away from Babylon 5. She'd find out the reason for that warning later.

Mi'Ra slipped through the crowd like a wraith, glanc­ing over her shoulders as if she knew she were being followed. Garibaldi staggered after her like a man who knew if he lost his footing he would join the sacrificial animal at the bottom of the canyon. But he had an advan­tage in that the Narns on the ledge made way for him, realizing he was a stranger.

At various intersections, the walkway sloped down­ward to a lower level of dwellings, while steps continued upward to the original level. Without hesitation, Mi'Ra went lower at every opportunity, and Garibaldi plunged after her. His clothes were soaking with sweat, and thirst burned in his throat—but this young Narn had threatened to kill one of the ambassadors in his charge. Had she come to the memorial service to make certain G'Kar was dead? Or had she come because she sus­pected he wasn't dead? It didn't matter—he was on an unfamiliar planet, and this was the one person he wanted to talk to the most. He wasn't going to lose this oppor­tunity.

Suddenly, he realized that he couldn't see Mi'Ra any­more. She had escaped. He quickened his pace and found himself on a stretch of walkway where many doorways were blocked off with rocks and pedestrians were few. He tried not to look over the narrow railing at the cer­tain death that waited below. His senses were acutely on edge, and he saw the boot whip out of the doorway a microsecond before it struck him in the knee.

Garibaldi yelped with pain and stumbled toward the, abyss. He grabbed the railing, pushed off, and fell hard on to his back; a knife flashed through the air. He caught her arm as the dagger kissed his throat. The young Narn woman fought like a commando, using every ounce of her wiry body to drive the knife home. He couldn't help it if she was pretty—he smashed her in the jaw with his fist and sent her crashing against the rock face. He heard her grunt as the air rushed out of her body, but she still had enough strength to draw a PPG and level it at him.

"Don't!" he warned, trying to sound calm. "I just want to talk."

Her corseted chest heaved as she struggled to regain her breath, and her red eyes drilled into him with hatred and suspicion. Garibaldi had seen enough criminals to know when he was confronting someone with nothing left to lose. Mi'Ra had been kicked around so much in the last few years that she didn't care about life anymore. She only cared about death. He could plainly see the yellowish scar on her forehead where she had drawn blood to seal her Shon'Kar.

"I just want to talk," Garibaldi said. "I saw the data crystal, and I know about your Shon'Kar."

"If you intend to take me back to your Earth station, I might as well kill you now." She hefted her weapon and seemed to be deciding where to put a hole in him.

Very slowly, Garibaldi lifted himself to his elbows. "I know you didn't kill him, and I couldn't take you back even if you did. But we need to tell you and your family to stay away from Babylon 5."

"Why?"

"Babylon 5 is under Earth administration, and we don't recognize the Shon'Kar."

Mi'Ra spat on the dry walkway. "Yes, I was deprived of my Shon'Kar. G'Kar deserved to be roasted to death over a slow fire, with a spit stuck through his gut, and I'm sorry he died quickly, before I could get my hands on him. Do you know what he did to my family?"

Garibaldi swallowed. "Yes, I do. I believe he was sorry for it, in the end."

"Ha!" scowled the attractive Narn. "He was a pathetic excuse for a Narn."

Garibaldi decided not to argue with her and her shiny PPG. Keeping the weapon trained on him, Mi'Ra scram­bled to her knees to reclaim her knife. She stuck the knife in a shabby leather sheath and looked thoughtfully at Garibaldi, as if deciding how to dispose of him. He flinched, expecting to have his chest turned into melting goo, but the young woman tucked the PPG inside her tight-fitting waistcoat and rose to her feet.

She looked down at him with pity. "G'Kar was the type to betray everyone, including his friends."

Garibaldi wasn't likely to argue with that point, but there was one more thing he had to know. "Did you send assassins after him when he was on Homeworld a few months ago?"

Mi'Ra frowned. "I thought they were professionals. I will never make that mistake again."

"Were they also Thenta Ma'Kur?"

The Narn woman smiled shyly. "If you have any brains at all in your hairy skull, you will stay far, far away from the Thenta Ma'Kur."

Garibaldi picked himself up and dusted off his pants. "That's what I've heard, but G'Kar defeated them on their first try."

The slim Narn scowled at him. "Go home now, Earther, before you get hurt. This is not your affair."

With that Mi'Ra tossed back her cloak and sauntered away, giving him a good look at her athletic backside. Garibaldi sighed, being a fan of rear actions in motion. Two more days he had in this vertical village, and he would also like to meet Du'Rog's widow, to see if she was as headstrong as her daughter. His eyes wandered over the railing into the bottomless canyon. It must have a bottom, he told himself, but it was so far down he couldn't see it.

He took a few steps after her and called out, "Where can I find you?"

"The border zone," she shot back. "But you aren't brave enough to go there."