AN: Originally this was going to be all one chapter, but it just keeps growing and growing, so I made the decision to break this up into two parts. Enjoy!

Chapter 7 – Truth Be Told – Part 1

April 22nd, 2260 17:25

Babylon 5 Red Sector – Level 6

"Bartender! Another round for my friends!" bellowed Londo Mollari with all the enthusiasm and generosity of someone who was both intoxicated and wealthy enough to offer such a gesture.

The resultant cheer from around the tavern suggested that the Centauri did indeed have many friends. At least while the alcohol was readily flowing. A chorus of banging then came as tumblers were thumped on tables and the bar in anticipation of more free liquor.

But not Connor's. His glass remained half full of the golden-brown liquid. He was not entirely sure what it was. Londo, when the Centauri had insisted on taking Connor out to eat, had explained that this particular drink was his favorite Earth beverage. Something, he claimed, was very hard to accomplish when compared to the rich variety and quality of Centauri Prime's wines. All he knew was drinking the tanish fluid burned his throat, made his eyes water, and his head feel like it was bobbing about on ocean waves.

"Drink up," instructed Londo as one of the waitresses came to refill their glasses. She was young and pretty. With highlights of purple and green in her dark hair and her disarming smile, she made Connor flush a deep scarlet as she poured more of the amber-colored fluid into his tumbler.

"I really ssshouldn't," slurred Connor as he stared into his now full glass. The muted overhead lights of the bar Londo had dragged him to gave it's contents an almost unearthly ruddy glow. They were at a table at very back of the bar, far the general crowds of the Zocalo. Connor gave his head a hard shake. That was a mistake. Everything in the bar gave a hard lurch to one side and then to the other.

"Thinkkk I had enougfff," he explained when his head stopped swaying back and forth.

"Nonsense," insisted Londo. "You're young and virile, my friend. You can spare one of your livers for a little recreation."

"But I only hasss the one…" explained Connor morosely as his gaze shifted down from his glass to his abdomen and his unlucky organ within his body.

"Truly?" questioned Londo as he reached for his drink and downed half the contents in a single gulp. "That is a pity." He examined the glass with a critical eye before turning back to Connor. "I have been told of an Earth drink called a 'Redneck Flu Shot'. I was most curious in trying one. Sounds like it might have wonderful medicinal abilities. As a representative of your people, I'd hoped you'd be so gracious as try one with me."

Wincing, Connor really wished he had not told Londo about Professor Stone's philosophy. His mentor had groomed and prepared him to act as spokesperson for humanity to the other races. Be helpful, be courteous, respect the other culture, and always be willing to go the extra mile to make a good impression of humanity's civilization. He admitted he had not done such a great job so far with the Minbari. Now Connor found himself struggling on how getting drunk with Centauri Prime's ambassador to Babylon 5 covered that expectation.

Attempting to get his less than coherent mouth back in working order, Connor swallowed hard and took a few calming breaths. "Well…" he started, wondering if there was a way to change the topic to something that didn't involve more alcohol. "I don't know what a 'Redneck Flu Shot' is, sounds...umm...strong…"

He faltered, trying to a find a suitable way to redirect the conversation. Connor was about to give up and just agree to Londo's request when an idea badgered its way to the fore front of his inebriated mind. "Other members of the crew might know." He gave the Centauri a somewhat unsteady look. "I bet some of them drink a lot more than me."

"Indeed?" replied Londo. He shifted ever so in his seat, not a very big change, but enough to let him lean in, closing distance to Connor. "Who might be some of your crew mates?"

Connor nodded eagerly, this was easy, and more importantly he didn't need to keep forcing down more burning brown liquor. "Let's see," he began. "There's General Taggart, but he doesn't drink. At least not anymore."

"Oh, why is that?"

"I think," expressed Connor to Londo in a careful whisper as if he was revealing a classified secret, "The General used to drink a lot. Too much."

"Impossible," disagreed Londo. "A fine wine is like the waiting embrace of a beautiful woman. You can never get enough."

Not having too many experiences of such activities, Connor could only accede with a muttered, "Uh...right." He quickly moved on. "I know Professor Stone has a brandy every so often." He smiled a little ungainly at remembering something his teacher had once said - "If used correctly it's a lubricant of the mind."

Londo nodded when Connor told him. "A wise man," he readily agreed. "Who else," he probed.

"Well, there's Lieutenant Monroe, Ensign Mashibe, and umm some marines...Don't remember all their names...and umm..."

"You appear to have quite the little team on that funny looking ship you arrived on," interrupted Londo evenly.

"Well...kinda…" admitted Connor. A small – and slightly more coherent part of his brain – wondered where Londo was going with these questions.

"There's a rumor going around," declared Londo with his still easy going smile, "Your Valiant made those Minbari ships around the station nearly wet themselves."

"Oh…I mean…I don't know about that," considered Connor. He blinked his eyes. Everything was still a little fuzzy. He laughed out loud. "Ha-ha, maybe we didn't pee our pants, but we were plenty surprised to find them here."

"True, true," readily agreed Londo. "But as I heard it, your ship had them targeted and was ready to strike before they knew what was happening."

Connor nodded. "Yeah, we did." At least this time bobbing his head up and down didn't make the whole room sway about. "They had no idea we broke through their stealth systems."

Then Connor abruptly stopped talking. His month closing with an audible snap. How did Londo know about Valiant being able to target the Minbari? Who would have told him? He didn't think anybody on board their ship would say anything. He was a little past drunk, but Connor didn't think the Minbari themselves would go around telling everyone. That just left Babylon 5. And who on the station could know?

"Oh, you know how it is," answered Londo when Connor asked where the Ambassador had gained that particular piece of information. "This station is full of secrets." The Centauri then cocked his head, pretending as if he was hearing an unheard voice. "You just need to know how to listen."

Londo shifted in his seat again. Moving even closer. This time putting himself very much in front of Connor. Blocking his view of the rest of the bar. "I do wonder what you and the rest of the crew of the Valiant going to do? Where you're planning on going next?"

Feeling his mouth go dry, Connor glanced down to his glass. He might not be exactly firing on all thrusters, but even in his current state and his limited worldly life, he was starting to figure out he was being pumped for information. Questioned. And he had already blurted out plenty to Londo. He took a look again at the amber liquid in the tumbler. He kinda wanted to take another swallow of the foul drink. Probably not a good idea.

"Umm, look Mister Mollari, maybe I should get back to Professor Stone..."

"No! Stay!" implored Londo, still with his easy-going smile, that wasn't quite as easy-going as Connor had first remembered. More intense. Less friendly. "We're just having a very delightful meal and drinks. Regaling each other with tales of how we both ended up on this wonderful, yet absurd space station."

"Err...well that great and all…" stammered Connor, trying to force his brain into action and figuring a way out of this mess. "But you're an important person. Uh...likely got important things to do."

Londo tipped his head back and laughed. It was a loud, almost obnoxious noise. And spirited enough to draw attention from the surrounding tables. More than a few eyes fell on the Centauri.

"You think I'm busy!?" shouted Londo, his friendly smile vanishing away. "Bah! I've destiny I can't avoid! And evidently I have nothing but time on my hands till then. All I wanted to do was have dinner." He took pause for a beat and added, "And possibly ask a few leading questions."

Connor flinched in his chair from the tirade, even though Londo wasn't shouting at him. Or really anyone in the bar. He was seemingly yelling at empty air. Londo's eyes were distant, locked on some place else. On something only he could see.

At this point Connor was thinking jumping up on, and then over the table, might be his best option for escape. Exactly how he would get around the now angry Londo Mollari was not entirely clear. Nor was he sure how steady he would be on his own feet. But before her could put his plan into action, he was mercifully rescued. Drawn in by Londo's outburst, an all too familiar face appeared behind the still ranting ambassador.

Leaning in between Londo and himself, a clearly puzzled Sargent Andrea Wilson asked, "Connor? What are you doing here?"

April 22nd, 2260 17:30

Babylon 5 Green Sector - Zen Gardens

Delenn straightened her robes and calmly took a seat on the stone bench across from General Robert Taggart. She took her time, drawing the activity out while carefully appraising the General. He sat on the bench opposite her, with his hands on resting on his knees. His Earthforce uniform neatly pressed and nearly immaculate. It would seem the man took extra care of keeping his attire in pristine condition. That, with his silvery-gray hair and his aged-lined face combined to give Taggart an air of confidence. He had seen much, done much, and survived.

But not without scars. They were not readily apparent, yet she knew they were there. Near to Taggart, a wooden cane rested against the bench. The only sign of his wounds from the war. Perhaps that was why the General worked so hard to keep his appearance so neat and tidy.

For his part, Taggart stared back at her with eyes full of cold, clear, contempt. The expression was nothing new for Delenn. She had seen it many times. Between G'Kar and Londo. Between Minbari and Human. And all too recently between herself and certain members of the Grey Council. An expression worn by those wishing to convey that in their eyes everything about you was wrong.

There was nothing she could say to Taggart's unsubtle disdain. But she could control how she responded to his scorn. She chose to ignore it. Instead, she sat patiently waiting for a response to her question. Carrying every bit of serenity and composure she had learned as an ambassador.

Seconds ticketed by in silence. Both sides staring each other down. Sizing their opponent up. Neither one willing to break away. Finally, after nearly two minutes, Taggart broke the stalemate. "You may speak, whether or not I listen is an entirely different matter."

As openings went, it wasn't much, but Delenn would take the opportunity. Both John and William Stone had thought a meeting between herself and the General was not a good idea. Something that would only exasperate an already difficult situation. Yet she felt compelled to try. If she could ameliorate, even a little bit, of the bloodshed Taggart had lived through, it would be worth it.

Where to start? Delenn fell back on her training. Begin with a simple topic. Something they could both agree on. Expand from there. "I suppose," she began cordially, "you do have a point about Babylon 5 being an insane idea. When your people proposed the Babylon project, it was considered an audacious concept by many of mine."

"Does that include you?" questioned Taggart.

Encouraged by his response, Delenn nodded her head. "I thought the idea bold, but I was also intrigued. In the thousand years of our time among the stars, no one had ever proposed such a straightforward plan – bring all the different races together in one place where we could try to resolve our differences peacefully. Learn from each other. Try to find common ground. To prevent further conflict."

"And yet it has failed spectacularly," countered Taggart. "The Narns are a broken people from their war with the Centauri. Now those same Centauri are at the doorsteps of a half a dozen different races. Mine are on an inevitable path towards civil war. Seemingly every race is divided." He stopped for a moment and gave her a shrewd look. "Except for the Minbari. Uninvolved and aloof as usual. Or are you? Your fleet outside the station making a little power grab while everyone else is distracted?"

'If you only knew,' Delenn thought to herself. The Grey Council was broken. The clans more divided than they had been in nearly a thousand years. Her people had always been closed off, careful who and what they revealed about themselves. A method of protection, all the clans had agreed. To prevent anyone from learning a weakness or gaining an advantage. To be above all the other races and their petty conflicts. But had her people's standoffish nature really protected themselves? It had not prevented a costly war with the Humans. It had not stopped the return of the Shadows. Nor had it avoided the slow fraying of the castes' unity.

She let out a soft sigh. "Believe me or not, General, we are not here as conquerors. Our only purpose is to protect Babylon 5."

"Why?" he asked pointedly. "Why here? Why now? What makes this ridiculous station so important to you?"

"Saving the lives here from your president's forces? Is that not important? Is that not a worthy goal?"

Taggart learned forward, his eyes narrowing. "You could have intervened when the Centauri started bombing the Narn home world. You could have interceded when Clark attacked Mars. Any number of conflicts burn in the galaxy right now with many more lives at stake. And yet you came here." He leaned back, taking up his walking stick. With a shake of his head, he added harshly, "You're trying to placate me and my questions with your supposed moral intent. Do not bother. Your kind have never had it."

Delenn felt a rise of irritation. Taggart did indeed have a way of getting under your skin. Obstinately demanding answers. Shoving his way past anything he deemed as an excuse. She clamped down on her annoyance. This was not the time. She could see what he was doing. The General was creating a venerable minefield of topics to ensnare her. To allow him to leap to his already conceived conclusion – that she - and by extension the rest of her people - were not to be trusted.

She tried again. "Was it not the point of Babylon 5 where we could come together to find peace? To build a bridge between my people and yours? Yes, the station might have failed in its original goal. But that doesn't mean its not a worthy one. And if want to bring peace back to the galaxy, we must start somewhere."

Taggart dismissively shook his head. "You want to build a bridge, build a damn bridge. Don't assume a human face you have no right to and decide that somehow it will lead to a better understanding between our races."

He saw her pained reaction to the same words used by the ISN reporter Cynthia Torqueman and surprisingly his stern face soften ever so slightly. "I saw that interview from a year ago. It was a hit piece. Reporters can be such vultures...But they weren't wrong. Your appearance is an insult to me."

"It was never meant to be," objected Delenn. "I realize why you feel that way, and I'm sorry. But since my change I've grown to understand so much about your people. We have much we can teach each other and learn."

With a snort, the General began to laugh. It was cruel and mocking. "Learn, Ambassador?" he sneered. "Oh, I learned everything I ever needed to know about your people when they gave me this!"

As he shouted, Taggart flipped his cane over and used it's handle to pull up the end of his right side trouser. Revealing the leg underneath. And everything about the newly exposed limb was…wrong. The skin was colored a putrid grey. Wrinkled and atrophied as it was stretched thin across the bones of his leg. With a network of narrow black lines crisscrossing back and forth as they climbed up past what remained of Taggart's knee.

It was a sight she had seen once before, and prayed she would never see again…

She had never known the planet as Flinn Colony, it had simply been a point on a map. One place among many where the Minbari Warrior Caste fought the Humans. Across Earth Alliance space the Minbari won battle after battle. And the Humans died again and again. But they made the Minbari pay for every inch they took. The war dragged on, and more and more had to be committed to the fight. Ranks of young Warrior Caste fought, and more than a few fell. The Worker Caste ran behind in their usual duties as the repair and upkeep on the fleet's battle cruisers became all consuming. While the Religious Caste treated the wounded and devoutly prayed for the Warriors' success. But in private, persistent whispers flowed between them on how the war had gone on for too long.

It was in these dark times the Wind Swords, the most militant of the Warriors, came forward with a most unusual revelation.

"Her name is Jha'dur. She is the last of Dilgar," explained Coplann to his fellow Satai.

"The Dilgar's home star went nova more than ten years ago, and all this time the Warrior Caste have hidden her?" challenged Rathenn.

Coplann held up a hand. "I've only recently learned of her existence. There was no duplicity on the other clans' part. The Wind Swords kept this secret from everyone."

"With good reason," interjected Jenimer, "The Dilgar were a brutal, barbaric race."

"So say the Humans," scoffed Morann. "And the Wind Swords say she is more than willing to help us with our war. She has weapons that will be of great use to us."

"Not just the Humans," countered Rathenn. "The Narn, the Abbai, the Drazi, and the Iksha all say the same thing. That the Dilgar were monsters." He took a deep breath and let it out. Beseechingly he asked, "Why are we dealing with such a creature?"

"You want to know why!?" snapped Morann. "I have to go to our clans and tell mothers and fathers how their children are returning from the war so badly injured they'll never walk again. To tell brothers and sisters that their siblings fell in battle. Against an enemy that refuses to give into their fate."

Morann then furiously thrust out his arm and pointed to a spherical map representing the many fronts of the war. "Like here," he indicated an indistinguishable rocky planet, "The Humans hold this world despite it being practically worthless. Yet who ever leads them attacks us like a crazed Madagon."

"Then perhaps," considered Jenimer, "we should not be bothering with this planet."

Morann's eyes darkened. "I'm sorry Satai, I had not realized you had decided to join the ranks of the Warrior Caste." He pointed to the gathered Religious Caste. "You pray." He moved to the Worker Caste. "You build." Then he pressed his fist against his chest. "And we fight! If there is a way to end this war faster and it can save more of our peoples' lives, then I say we do it!"

And so the Grey Council voted and with a very narrow victory for the warrior caste, proceeded with the assistance of Jha'dur. Delenn had abstained from the vote and had said nothing during the debate. She was still in mourning over her father's recent passing. But haven spoken out or not, all the Grey Council would be rendered speechless when the Dilgar Warmaster's weapon was finally used.

In all appearances it was a simple blackish gas. Sprayed over a large mountainous area where the Humans sought refuge from the Minbari. It was meant to force them out of their hiding. Allow the Warriors to finish them off. What it did instead was beyond words. The gas attacked the Human's nervous system, ripped it apart, broke down muscles, putting its victims in horrendous pain. But most horrifically it kept those affected alive. Forced the heart to beat. The lungs to breath. Keeping the Humans in unending suffering.

By the time the assembled Warriors found the last hold outs on that world, the Humans had been driven insane by the pain. They screamed and scream till their throats bled and their bodies twisted and contorted in continuous agony. All of them covered in narrow black lines cutting across their deathly gray skin…

Delenn swallowed painfully, pulling down the rising bile that was threatening to make her gag. The sight of the General's disease ridden limb brought up too many horrific images from the war. She looked away, into the peaceful green gardens, trying to regain her composure. Taggart was not having any of it.

"Look at it!" his voice snarled with unrestrained contempt. "You know what this is!? What happened to the people on Flinn Colony!?"

Oh, she most certainly did. She and the other members of the Grey Council had seen the results of Jha'dur's weapon. It had been too much for even Morann's desire of revenge for the warrior caste's lost soldiers. And the clans who had participated in the use of the black gas were disgusted to the point of near mutiny. Only the Wind Swords continued to clamor for its use. But then Shai Alyt Branmer, leading the war against the Humans had spoken out, saying such a weapon was beneath the dignity of the Minbari. It would never be used again. And it was not. It would be, in a war meant to obliterate all humanity, one of the few acts of restraint the Minbari showed the Humans.

With effort Delenn brought her eyes back to Taggart. The right leg of his trouser was still rolled up, as he rested his disfigured leg out at an angle from his body. Effectively putting it on display for her to see. The lowered lights of the station's night time cast the General's leg in darkened shadows. Making it look even more twisted and ugly.

Taggart was still yelling, fury burning in every word he spoke. "...Your flyers raced over our heads. We though it was just another reconnaissance flight. But then we saw this dark smoky vapor trailing out. It settled all over the valley. We covered our faces, got breathing masks. Assuming it was some type of chemical weapon. Trying to gas us out. But it wasn't. It was far more…"

Delenn regained her voice and interrupted his rant, "I know."

Not letting his anger ease for even a moment, he derided,"You know nothing." With a disgusted shake of his head, he added, "The noble Minbari, the honorable Minbari, all a damn lie."

"I. Know. I was there when we decided to use it," she stated emphatically.

Genuine surprise badgered its way on to Robert Taggart's face and fought with his seething anger. It won out, just barely, and for the moment the General was rendered speechless.

"I was there when the Wind Swords Clan revealed they had been hiding a Dilgar war criminal. Jha'dur. I was there when they proposed using one of her weapons to shorten the war with your people. I was there when we voted to use it. And I was there...when we saw the aftermath."

Delenn let out a shaky sigh as she finished. Admitting to the truth. It was not something she had planned on doing. But Taggart had not allowed any half measures. It was all or nothing with him. And she found she wanted to tell him. Looking back to Taggart, she saw his eyes were closed. His earlier anger vanished, he almost looked calm.

Without opening his eyes, he spoke in a near whisper. "You are no mere ambassador." He opened them and gazed at her steadily. "You're a Satai, aren't you?"

"I was," she admitted.

"I didn't know you could quit." His gaze grew sharp. "Or were you forced out?"

"Does it matter? The Grey Council no longer exists." It was another truth she would not normally reveal, but here with a Human who utterly despised her, it somehow was easy.

Another wave of unsettled surprise crossed Taggart's face at her revelation. But he recovered faster this time. "Really? Well, I guess I can say there's a little justice in the universe after all. Good riddance."

Rolling his pant leg back down, covering his atrophied limb, Taggart let out a rough sigh of his own, coming out as a puff of aggravated air from his lungs. "What the hell did you hope to accomplish by meeting with me? To let me know you and your Grey Council were behind using illegal bio-weapons? I already figured that out. So few of your people have any idea what happened on Flinn Colony. You covered it up. Tried to hide what you did. Bury it in the past."

"We did," Delenn agreed somberly. "In truth General, we thought everyone exposed was dead. And the silence of those dead would keep our secret. It was shameful."

"I don't give a damn about your shame or your secrets."

"No, I suppose you don't, nor should you. But you ask why I'm here..." She took a steadying breath to say what needed to be said, "...all I have as an answer is - I'm sorry."

More laughter rose up from Taggart. Angry and vicious. "Sorry!? You're sorry!? That's what Delenn of Minbar has to say to the last survivor of Flinn Colony? She's sorry! She feels remorse over gassing people who's only crime was to be Human and trying to fight back rather be lambs to the slaughter by your warrior caste! She offers me two little words in payment for more blood than anyone should ever see!"

"And you have it none the less!" Delenn shouted back. Her own anger and disgust warring unpleasantly in her body. "Want it or not, you have my sorrow and apology! What we did was wrong! We thought we found a quick end to the war, a way to end the bloodshed. But in our haste we did not look at what Jha'dur was creating. Or...we didn't want to."

Taggart wearily got to his feet. "Your apology and your pity is a worthless thing. Less than the dirt beneath my feet. You understand that?"

Delenn bowed her head. Her attempt at bringing some form of reconciliation with Taggart was seemingly in vain. He looked ready to storm away, and any kind of alliance between Babylon 5 and the Valiant gone as well. Was it worth it? By all rights she had no claim or responsibility to the General and his crew. Let him and his ship go, do as they will. Fight with their President Clark. Or fumble their way into larger conflict with the coming of Shadows. It was not her problem. Be indifferent and distant as the Minbari should.

No.

Too much had already been lost, too many lives gone. Over mistakes and misunderstandings. Of hatred and pain. She tried one last time, "Then what would you have from me?"

The question stop him in his tracks. He turn back to her. "What I want? The truth. Just that, the truth. What are you doing here? Why are you working with Sheridan? No more dancing around diplomatically. No more half-truths, or Minbari riddles. Tell me the goddamn truth!"

Laughter of her own almost welled up in Delenn. In good part she had come to see if Taggart could be trusted with all she knew. Able to bear the weight of the oncoming storm. The measure of a man as John would say. And here he was demanding that truth. She stared at the General for a long moment. Judging. Taggart stood at the entrance to the gardens, coldly glaring back at her. He was angry, bitter. But he didn't have the same dark madness she had seen in knife wielding assassin who had taken her and Lennan hostage. He did not want her apologies or sorrow. Instead he was driven by something else. And she was not quite sure what that was.

She made an attempt to find out. "If someone offered you the power to destroy my people. Punish us for our sins...would you take it?"

A deep frown broke out on Taggart's face. "What type of question is that?"

"A very important one, more than you realize," Delenn countered. "You asked me for the truth, and now I ask the same of you. What would you do if offered that kind of power?"

"As if there was some big button I could push and Minbar was shoved into a black hole?" He replied after contemplating her question. Then he shook his head and his eyes glanced away, lost to old memories. "Tempting? Yes...But what would that give me? The dead would still be dead. My son would still be gone. All the pain...all my nightmares...would still be there. Its a pointless thing to offer. You might as well ask me if I'd want the ability to rewrite time, make it so the Prometheus never fired on your ships."

"I also wish for that," admitted Delenn with her own sad shake of her head. "More than you can imagine, I wish our peoples' first meeting was different. To give back all those lost." Now her voice nearly broke, "But I can't…All I can is try to do better for the here and now and for what is to come."

Of all the possibilities Robert Taggart could do, what he did next surprised Delenn the most. Cane in hand, he slowly limped back to the stone bench she sat upon. For a fleeting moment she feared he was going to attack. But instead he took a seat next to her. His expression was hard to read. Not angry, but certainly not friendly. The closest she would guess was a mix of pain and pride.

"There was a time, not even that long ago," began Taggart. "I would have killed you the moment you sat down across from me. Where I would have used the Valiant to turn your ships into burning wrecks. Consequences be damned."

Hesitantly she asked, "And now?"

"I could be consumed by my past. Controlled by it. Ruined by it. I very nearly was. Instead, I choose to work for the future. For my people. To make sure something like Flinn Colony never happens again."

"That is…wise," she agreed.

"And if I think you're a threat to that future, I will end you with my bare hands."

Delenn regarded Taggart for a long moment. His eyes still carried a good deal of distrust and animosity, almost all of it directed at her. But there was a certain measure of curiosity. He wanted to see how she would react to his threat. Everything she had heard about him and seen herself reinforced the idea he was someone who respected a level of bluntness. Of even ruthlessness. That diplomatic niceties were a waste of time. She might have had better luck speaking with him by bringing an insult rather than an apology.

Finally she answered him. "You would try."

The very faintest crack of a smile passed his lips. "You'd be surprised on how much I can accomplish by merely trying." He paused and gave her a meaningful glare. "Does this idiotic conversation have a purpose?"

Delenn let out a resigned sigh and rose to her feet. "Come, and I will grant your request for the 'goddamn truth' as you put it."

Taggart obstinately remained seated. "Why not here?"

"No, not in the open," she replied with a slow shake of her head. "Follow me, General Robert Taggart, and I will tell you all I know. But be warned, it will haunt you. Perhaps as much as the nightmares you already have."

April 22nd, 2260 17:40

Babylon 5 Red Sector – Level 6

Andrea Wilson was dressed in her Earthforce uniform, polished and neat. Her dark-brown hair pulled back in a tight bun as usual. She was pretty in a simple way. No need for fancy makeup or jewelry. The young sergeant could just roll right out of her bunk and be ready to go for a brand new day. A friendly smile and seemingly always on top of any assigned task. At least that's how Connor saw her. He was more than willing to admit he had a bit of a crush on his fellow co-pilot.

"Umm, Connor?" ask a still confused Andrea.

Connor realized he was just sitting there, dumbly gaping at Andrea. Slowly pushing his still somewhat addled brain in to gear, Connor realized of all the people to come along, she was perfect. She could help him get of his current predicament. For her part, Andrea was still glancing between himself and Londo, apparently doing her best to make sense of an angry Centauri and an inebriated Connor.

"Friend of yours?" inquired Londo with a silky smooth smile towards Andrea. All of his earlier unfocused outrage vanished.

Straightening, Andrea recited her rank and name with practice ease. "Sergeant Andrea Wilson. I serve with Connor on the Valiant."

"Ah," cheered Londo, his smile ratcheting up several sizes. "Most pleased to meet you, Miss Wilson." He extended a hand towards Andrea. "I am Ambassador Londo Mollari."

Andrea flinched at Londo announcing his title and did not take his offered hand. Her eyes moved from the Centauri to focus completely on Connor. "Why are you here?" she asked, with clear concern in her voice.

Londo folded his still outstretched arm down to the table. Acting as he had never offered it. "You see," he answered for Connor, "there was a bit of a mishap in the Zocalo. Mister Olson here accidentally disrupted a Pak'Ma'ra's dinner. Not a particularity good thing. Seeing the altercation, I interceded to smooth things over." Leaning back in his seat, Londo spread his arms, giving a 'what-else-was-I-supposed-to-do' look. "I then felt compelled to take young Connor out for dinner." He turned his head towards the bar and its patrons and added, "And drinks!" Muted applause returned from crowd around them.

Andrea digested Londo's explanation and promptly put her hand on Connor's shoulder. "We need to leave."

"Oh, please stay," lamented Londo with a hurt expression. "We're having fun! Plenty of food and drinks for all."

"Earthforce officers don't drink while on duty," replied Andrea stiffly.

"A pity," noted Londo blandly, apparently not happy with Connor's fellow crew member. Then his smile crept back. "Mister Olson here isn't an Earthforce officer. He's...what was it you said? Ah...a contractor. Hired for his mentor's expertise."

"He has a prior commitment," smoothly countered Andrea.

"I do?" Connor blurted out.

"You do," answered Andrea as she gave him a tug on his shoulder and a purposeful glare.

Blinking, Connor finally caught on. "Uh..right, I do. Umm...Sorry Ambassador Mollari, I need to get get going." He started to stand, but stopped short as Londo placed a restraining hand on his arm. Nervously, he flicked his eyes to Londo and could see the Centauri clearly did not believe him.

"I went out of my way to help you," stated Londo in a surprisingly gentle voice. All of his earlier boisterous humor and anger gone. "Gave you food and drink. All I just wanted us to have a nice time. And I offered my friendship." To Connor, the Londo's words were so sad. Maybe the ambassador was just lonely and he had misunderstood the Centauri's intentions.

Then Londo's hand tightened on Connor arm and he looked up at him with a steely gaze that bore into him. "In these..uncertain times, you may need friends like me."

Connor only managed to gape uncomprehendingly at Londo's offer, at a loss of what to do. But Andrea ostensibly had her own opinion on the ambassador's intimidating message. With an unruly "Whatever!" she promptly yanked Connor up out of his seat. The act nearly upended the table and sent Connor's still full tumbler sliding towards Londo. Rather impressively, the Centauri caught hold of the sloshing drink while maintaining a grip on his own half-full glass. With not a drop being spilled from either one. Connor had to admit he was rather impressed. But he had little time for watching the alien's dexterity as Andrea pulled him away. A few half-shouts reached his ears from Londo, decrying the rudeness of Earth Force females and the waste of perfectly good alcohol. But those sounds were quickly drowned out as they exited the bar and entered the thronging masses filling the Zocalo.

"Do you have any idea who that was?" hissed Andrea as she yanked him along.

"Yeah I do," snapped Connor, growing irritated by being dragged about. "Londo's the Centauri Ambassador to Babylon 5. And I think you just ticked him off."

Andrea's face turned dark with anger. Something Connor has never seen before. "He's a murder!" she practically shouted in reply.

Connor managed to drag Andrea to a halt. It took more than a bit of effort as she seemed coiled up with enough angry energy to power a starfury. "What do you mean?" he asked when he managed to maneuver themselves to an unoccupied spot near a small boutique selling some type of sparkly jewelry.

Andrea's face was still twisted up in outrage. "The Narns!" she retorted with a snarl. "He bombed them!"

"What!?" he examined again in confused irritation. She was not making any sense.

Taking a ragged breath, Andrea apparently made an effort to try calm herself. It did not work well, for she soon started walking in a tight, angry circle around Connor. But she did manage to be far more coherent and less angry shouting.

"The Narn's home world, the Centauri bombed it with mass drivers," began Andrea as she paced

"Okay, yeah I know that," replied Connor. "But what does Londo…"

Cutting him off, Andrea's voice rose again in righteous indignation. "He was there! He helped organize their fleet! Supplied the weapons! Maybe he didn't pull the trigger himself, but he made it happen!"

Connor felt his jaw go slack in stunned amazement. He could admit he'd been played by Londo. He had spoken far to freely on the Valiant and her crew. Yet, despite Londo's duplicity and drunken anger, Connor would never have conceived the Centauri as a mass murder.

"You sure?" he asked as he tried to get his mind wrapped around what Andrea was telling him.

Shaking her head sternly, Andrea countered, "I've seen the reports. Londo Mollari was there."

Just his luck, considered Connor sourly, of all the people and races on Babylon 5, he had to run into one who'd commit genocide. True, the Centauri Republic and Narn Regime had been at each others throats for the better part of a century. Their war didn't have anything to do with Humans and it was all to easy to let it be someone else's problem. But Connor had sat across from Londo for the better part of an hour while the Centauri had regaled him with tales about his home world and his people, saying nothing about the Narns. Nothing about the occupation. If someone could so casually dismiss all that when they had played an orchestrating role, then how easy would it be for Londo to use Connor to get what he wanted. It was dawning on Connor that he was not very good at reading people or a situation. Londo's kindly spoken words had been anything but good will. He was someone who was very dangerous.

Still, something niggled at the back of Connor's mind. Unfortunately his brain was still far too foggy from all the liquor. It took a couple tried before his thoughts finally coalesced into actual words. How exactly did Andrea Wilson, a low ranking Earthforce officer know such things. He glanced to Andrea, she was still in her agitated state, pacing back and forth before him. "How did you know that about Londo? I mean what reports did you read?"

His question made her face turn a deeper shade of red. Although Connor's initial impression that she was getting even angrier took a detour when Andrea gave him a self-conscious shrug and lower her eyes. "Well...you see...General Taggart gets...or well...he used to get these Earthforce intelligence briefings. Nothing top secret or anything, but usually it had a lot of sensitive diplomatic summaries in them."

Connor gave himself an imaginary pat on the back. Score one for his drunken intuition. "And as a yeoman you used to read them?"

"No!" shot back Andrea, looking more defensive by the second. "I mean...not usually. I just delivered them. A lot of the times the General would talk to me as he read over the reports. Tell me what he thought." She took a few moments, and continued on in a calmer tone. "He said the Narns were absolutely right to stand up to the Centauri. That the Centauri were nothing but bullies past their prime." Her voice dropped lower and turned somber. "The General was furious when the Centauri bombed the Narn home-world and Earthforce did nothing. He said if they were willing to slam asteroids into one planet, there's no reason they wouldn't do it to another."

Digesting all this, Connor puffed out a large sigh and rubbed at his temples, he could feel the beginnings of a massive headache. Andrea let out her own troubled exhale and stopped her pacing. Seeing she was watching him with a small smile, Connor found his cheeks becoming heated in embarrassment. Feeling like he needed to say something, he stammered out, "Well, umm, thanks for getting me out of there."

Surprisingly, Andrea's eyes cast to the side and despite the off color lights of the Zocalo he was pretty sure she was blushing. "Uh, no worries," she offered. A slightly awkward pause followed between them and then she asked, "Did you really mess up a Pak'Ma'ra's meal?"

"Yep, that was my first screw up of the day." Connor stopped himself and reconsidered his day. "Well more like the second screw up if you count me acting like a fool with the Minbari Ambassador." Giving in to the desire to feel sorry for himself, he added self-deprecatingly. "Probably would have been best if I had just stayed on the Valiant."

"Wait," interrupted Andrea, "So you've meet two Babylon 5 ambassadors in just a few hours?"

"Yeah, lucky me."

Andrea face twisted up in confusion and concern. "But why the Minbari?"

Connor let out another frustrated groan. Professor Stone had told him they were going to the Minbari to 'smooth things over.' Pretty much in open defiance of General Taggart's insistence they not interact with any of the bald pale-skin aliens. As such his mentor had sworn Connor to not tell any of the rest of the Valiant's crew what they were up to. So much for that promise. He really was horrible at keeping secrets.

When he explained all this to Andrea, she shook her head and her eyes were troubled. "You know how the General feels about them."

"I do, but you also know how Professor Stone is. Once he thinks he right about something, there's no changing his mind."

Andrea just shook her head again. "Can't imagine any of this is going over well with the General..."

AN: So we finally get to the truth of what happened on Flinn Colony. Bringing in Jha'dur here changes the dynamic of the episode 'Deathwalker' There was more to the Minbari's shame in hiding her existence. I had always wondered why, if the Grey Council had learned about her during the war, it took another 10 years before she left the safety of the Wind Swords. Simply put, there had to be more to it.

Again I hope this fits within established cannon and makes sense for both Taggart's deep distrust and Delenn's guilt. And of course, there is more to the story about Flinn Colony and Taggart's actions. He has a lot of blood on his hands as well. But in the next part, he's going to find out a lot of what the B5 crew has been up to...