Garibaldi checked the time and saw that he was running out of it. "Send it to Captain Sheridan's terminal. I'm just outside his office. Garibaldi out."
Be there, Captain Sheridan, he muttered to himself as he pressed the chime. To his relief, a voice called, "Enter!"
Garibaldi ducked through the door and was relieved to see that Sheridan was alone in his office. He was peering at his flat-screen terminal, a bemused expression on his face.
The captain barely looked up. "Hello, Garibaldi. Ready for your trip?"
"Not really, sir," admitted the security chief. "I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time, but this will only take a moment."
Sheridan frowned at his screen. "Would you believe I'm looking at Narn legal texts? Most of them are centuries old and predate the Centauri invasion. It seems as if they prefer debating the meaning of these old laws, most of which are irrelevant to a spacefaring society, to writing any new laws. Their beliefs are mired in the past. This Shon'Kar business reminds me of Earth a few centuries back, when it was legal to fight duels to the death."
Garibaldi stepped to the side of Sheridan's desk. "Sir, I was expecting a download from C-and-C, and I had them send it directly to you. Could I take a look?"
Sheridan pushed his chair back and motioned toward the screen. "Go ahead."
Garibaldi angled the screen and punched in some commands. As information and a photograph blossomed on the screen, he began to read aloud, "Full name is Albert Curtis Vernon, a.k.a. Al Vernon, and he hails from Mansfield, Ohio." He stopped and pointed to a window of text. "This is interesting, sir—he's done a lot of traveling around, but you can see that the Narn Homeworld was his legal residence for almost ten years. He was registered with both the embassy and the trade commission. Yeah, he seems legit."
"Is this man a suspect in G'Kar's murder?" asked Sheridan.
"No, sir. This may sound crazy, but I would like to take Al Vernon with us to Homeworld, to be sort of a guide."
Sheridan blinked at him. "How well do you know this man?"
"I just met him. He came up to me after the service and said he wanted to get back to Homeworld. He agreed to be my guide if I arranged passage on the K'sha Na'vas."
"That's not our ship, Garibaldi. I can't order them to take a stranger on board a military vessel."
The chief cleared his throat. "Begging your pardon, sir, but it's your prerogative to pick the people for the official delegation. I don't remember volunteering, yet there I am. You could put Al Vernon on the list. Since he's married to a Narn, he is sort of a pioneer in Narn-Terran relationships."
"How long has Al Vernon been on the station?" In answer to his own question, the captain glanced at his screen and said, "He just arrived here two hours ago, so he couldn't have been involved in G'Kar's death. He didn't waste any time getting to you, did he?"
"No sir. I don't intend to trust him with my life—all I know is that he fell into my lap, and I'd feel like a fool if I didn't take him. He said he was broke—how many credits does he have?"
Sheridan gazed at his screen. "He hasn't used a credit chit on the station, so we have no record of his financial status. Look at all the places this guy has been—Centauri Prime, Mars, Antareus, Betelguese Four, not to mention ten years on the Narn Homeworld. Look here and here—there are a lot of gaps where we don't know where he's been. If you take this man with you, he'll have to be your responsibility. I'll hold you personally accountable for his actions."
"Yes, sir," Garibaldi answered gravely, wondering if he was taking leave of his senses. He had absolutely no reason to trust Al Vernon, just a hunch that providence had dealt him a trump card in a plaid sportcoat.
Captain Sheridan pressed his console, and the main viewer on the wall blinked on, showing a communications graph. "This is Captain Sheridan to the Narn cruiser K'sha Na'vas. I would like to speak to Captain Vin'Tok, if he is available."
The graphic was replaced by a view of the bridge of the Narn heavy cruiser, K'sha Na'vas. The lights were dimmed drowsily, as if take-off were hours away instead of ten minutes. Vin'Tok sat down in front of the screen, and his face was half-bathed in shadows.
"Hello, Captain," he said. "May I be of help?"
"Captain, I wish to include one more dignitary on the list of delegates from Earth. His name is Al Vernon, and he's a civilian."
Now Vin'Tok sat up abruptly in his chair and scowled at Sheridan. "This is highly irregular, adding a passenger only ten minutes before we depart."
Sheridan smiled pleasantly. "We are only trying to show our respect to Ambassador G'Kar by sending a worthy delegation. I can upload to you the records of Mr. Vernon, so you can see for yourself that he's a fitting symbol of the cooperation between our worlds."
"Very well," muttered the Narn captain. "I trust this will not delay our departure. Out." He punched a button, and the screen went blank.
On the dimly lit bridge of the warship K'sha Na'vas, G'Kar's sharp chin jutted out of the shadows. "You fool! Bringing a complete stranger on board!"
"What was I to do?" asked Vin'Tok. "A three-person delegation is still small. How was I to refuse the humans? Believe me, they have been quite genuine in their grief over your demise. The memorial service was heartwarming. When this is all over, my friend, you will have to tell me why you have taken such a desperate action."
G'Kar sat stiffly in his chair, his lips tight. Dead men have little influence, he was beginning to find out.
"Data download from Captain Sheridan is now complete," announced a Narn tech.
"You'd better get below," Vin'Tok told G'Kar, a note of dismissal in his voice.
G'Kar wanted to protest, but his power and prestige were evaporating before his eyes. No longer was he G'Kar of the Third Circle. He was a dead man—a nonentity. His lot was to be hidden away, hunted, and now ignored. When he had hastily devised this scheme, he had never realized the jeopardy in which he was placing himself. He had assumed that his associates would treat him as they always had, realizing that he was still G'Kar. But G'Kar was officially dead; he had no strings to pull and no teeth to his bite. He was dependent upon the kindness of friends, and they seemed more curious than helpful.
He would try to arrange being discovered floating in space, and still alive, as soon as his mission to Homeworld was over. And he would conclude that business as quickly as possible.
With armed guards at his back, G'Kar marched toward the ladder that would take him down into the hold. There his furnished cell awaited.
Garibaldi was ambushed just as he was coming off the lift on the docking level. Ivanova stopped him with a palm to the chest and peered at him with eyes that were darker and more intense than usual.
"What is this about a stranger coming with us?" she demanded.
"You mean Al Vernon," Garibaldi said sheepishly. "He's a stranger to us, but he's no stranger to Homeworld. We'll need someone who knows their way around."
"What about Na'Toth? I took her out to breakfast this morning—bought her smoked eel! She's agreed to help us."
Garibaldi scowled. "Until she catches sight of Mi'Ra and goes for her throat. I want to get in and get out with the least amount of trouble, and I think Al will be a big help."
He struggled with his duffel bag and his heavy coat while trying to check on the time. Damn it, he didn't want to go someplace where he had to wear a coat, where the temperature shot up and down the thermometer like a yo-yo. He liked it on B-5, where the temperature was regulated for optimum comfort.