Title: Strings Attached

Author: owlet

Rating: M (maybe not really, I just want to be sure)

Disclaimer: JMS wrote everything B5, Warner Brothers® gave it a place to stay (at least for a while, sigh) nothing here is mine, (well perhaps Andrea and a few secondary charas – but who'd want them anyway – oh, and Mr. Purrcel; he'd be welcome to move in with me any time.) and I'm not earning any money with this (only dark looks from various people when I'm writing this story instead of doing things I should do...)

Most Minbari names and phrases are from the Hightower Minbari Dictionary.

A.N.: This is all Knuffeltiger's fault anyway.

Oh, and Marcus lives. *blows raspberry* It's not really relevant to the story, I just like seeing him alive. Oh, this is as of yet unbetaed. Volunteers? I really would appreciate the help.

,_,
{Ovo}
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Strings Attached

by owlet

Tuzanor is a great place to be. Temperate climate, beautiful landscape, and the wounds of the Minbari civil war had healed quite quickly (a bit like their skin, really - strange that); so the architecture was as awe-inspiring as it had been before the conflict. Tuzanor is where my story started, a story I will tell because I want it to be known in my own words, my own version of the things that happened, my truth, not to be changed or manipulated by certain people (you know who you are) to serve their own ends.

So Tuzanor, or to be more precise, the Ranger training-facility there. It was built into a natural basin in the rocky landscape, a magnificent waterfall on one end (divided into two parts by the temple) and lots of green protected by the steep cliffs on every side. It was easy to defend if the enemy didn't come with flying vehicles – we had found that out the hard way during the civil war. The human part of the Anla'Shok was an offence to the Warrior Caste, and so we had to suffer trough many attacks, but we gave them bloody noses every time – sometimes it had been close, though. I hadn't really distinguished myself there, I was the keeper of the archives. Not that I can't fight, but I've never been really good at it. My talents lay elsewhere, in the finding of information for example, or the shushing of trainees in the library.

During these tense times I had made three friends. Whenever I tell somebody about my Musketeers, they ask me if I had deliberately set out to collect a set. Because in a way they are, all three of them Minbari females and one from each caste. The stoic Tavin ra Fi'sularae (Star Riders Clan) was like most of her clan a warrior. Sovann raMirshai (Parish Priests) was our voice of reason, contradictory though she was – even though she was the eldest among us, she could be the most childlike; just as Laval ra Fi'irilmer (Starship Crafters), a brilliant mechanic, could be the most childish. The civil war that had broken the castes' peaceful coexistence had been the forge of our bond. The universe sometimes was strange like that.

Perhaps it had worked because these mad times had been equally hard on all of us; I was cut off from my family on Earth where another civil war was happening, Laval lost almost all of her family (universal constant: in a war the workers usually pay the highest price), Sovann because she saw almost everything she believed in shatter around her, and Tavin because her family shunned her for staying with the Rangers, who were due to Delenn's leadership more or less affiliated to the Religious Caste.

So we became the Musketeers. My friends were quite amused, and adopted the name for our group with enthusiasm, the ritual touch of the weapons and the "one for all, and all for one" touched them in a way. We even spent many an evening taking turns to read the novel to each other; I had to answer many questions of course. Tavin replaced a drill-master who had died in one of the attacks, Sovann had her duties in the temple, Laval fixed things. The civil war was eventually over and the new Grey Council mulled over several possibilities of how to cement the still fragile peace.

Life was good.

At least it was until one afternoon in the early summer (on Minbar anyway) of the year 2262.

I remember it very well, it was raining and we had secluded ourselves in the library to listen to one of the clan-legends that Tavin liked to tell, when Ranger Cole entered.

"Ladies, I've got news for you; and they are not necessarily good news."

I leant forward, elbows propped against the library desk.

"The Grey Council has decided on something," I guessed.

Cole looked at me.

"Yes and they decided that the Warrior Caste as such and the Rangers should get a lot closer. This would be a good thing, we could coordinate our efforts better."

"That would be desirable. We could fight more efficiently," Tavin said, straightening her tall frame as she did so. Hm.

"Er, yes. So it has been decided that one of the clan-leaders should take a suitable Ranger as a mate."

Silence. Ah well. Trust the Minbari to fall back on something like that in times of trouble.

"Who will it be," Laval asked cautiously.

"Shai Alyt Coplann of the Moon Shields volunteered, and he will arrive in two days."

I swallowed.

"Not counting the trainees, we are the only females here at the moment," Tavin said sounding a little nervous. That surprised me, usually she stayed calm, no matter what.

I fiddled with my pin.

"When I came here I was prepared to fight, and if necessary, to die. But I wouldn't have thought I would have to render these kinds of services. Well not specifically me in this instance – I'm human, he wouldn't choose me; but my friends. It seems wrong."

Ranger Cole sighed.

"I know. I'm not exactly happy with this myself. Especially since you can't say no, if he chooses you; that might disrupt the peace."

"We are aware of our duties, Anla'Shok Cole," Tavin said looking very perturbed indeed.

"All right, try to have a nice afternoon anyway," Cole said with a lopsided grin and left the library.

I turned to Tavin.

"You're afraid he'll chose you."

"I am the logical choice, Andrea. I am Anla'Shok, but I am also of the Warrior Caste," she answered avoiding my eyes.

"But you are thinking of courting a certain young Fire Wing, no?"

"I am. But I will do my duty anyway."

The cogwheels in my head started to move and came to rest with a resounding click.

I sighed.

"Tavin, I might have a solution for you. For all of us actually. It may dearly cost us, It might even get us expelled from the Rangers, but we won't be bound to anyone without our consent."

"How?"

"Whenever we're in public we'll be the most incompetent idiots imaginable. You know, be clumsy, drop things, do stupid things, fight like beginners. We'll only be safe, if he doesn't want us, so we'll behave abominably until he decides to leave and look elsewhere for a female who'll have him."

Tavin's lips twitched.

"How ... human."

I beamed at her.

"Exactly. But this will take some hard work. We'll have to disguise our expertise in just about anything; we'll have to practise that or we might be too obvious. Our superiors are going to be very unhappy with us; we'll need to weather that. And most importantly we need to stick together. One for all..."

"...and all for one," they chorused and we linked our hands across the table.

...

So the evening saw four cloaked figures sneaking into the training rooms.

It was hard at first going against our instincts and let blows land (I in particular had problems with that, my bruises lasted for days, on Minbari skin they disappeared within an hour) and Tavin's blows hurt a lot, even if she pulled them. But she was getting better at being worse and a while later we all had the grandest time stumbling over invisible dead turtles.

We went to bed with lighter hearts; it was always better to have a plan, even if it may not work.

So we met in secret whenever we could and practised; Laval was especially fun to watch – she was as adorable as a courting gok.

...