There were mind–calming techniques she had been learning ever since the age of five. As she walked through the sterile, colourless corridors of the hospital facility, she ran them over and over in her mind. Her breathing was calm and natural. Her walk was normal. Her bearing spoke of routine duties, as if she had done this a thousand times. What was necessary was not to look out of place.
She had memorised the map Welles had provided, studied the timetable of the shift changes, the routine day–to–day business of the hospital. She passed through the security checkpoints with no problems. The replacements were delayed as Welles had promised.
Finally she arrived in Delenn's room. It was a normal, private ward room. Normal, that was, save for the two Security officers and the still figure in the bed, surrounded by machinery. Delenn was asleep.
This was the first glimpse Talia had had of Delenn, and she was mildly surprised. She had not been sure what she had been expecting, but it was not this fragile, strangely beautiful mix of human and Minbari. Welles had not told her about what had happened to put Delenn in this place, but she could sense a terrible, terrible sadness in the alien woman's slumber.
Of course it was interrupted by the sight of one of the security guards stepping forward. "ID?" he asked.
Talia handed it over, taking care to make the action as nonchalant as possible. This was a routine inspection, that was all. Purely routine.
"I don't recognise you," said the other one. She risked a quick surface scan. He was suspicious. He was the sort who was naturally suspicious. Slowly, casually, Talia placed her hand behind her back and slid a small device from her sleeve. An electronic jammer, a device that would paralyse the surveillance equipment in here if a fight should prove necessary. Not one of Welles' toys, something she had been able to pick up on the black market.
It was remarkable what could be found if you looked hard enough.
"I'm a transfer from the Ellison Building in two–o–nine," she said, repeating her story. Changing cover stories always led to trouble. "One of the nurses is sick and can't come in." That was true enough. Talia had been able to find a nurse and induce a severe headache.
"ID checks out."
"She's early. The next check isn't for another twenty minutes."
"Just being efficient," Talia replied. "I could come back if you want me to...."
"No," said the second guard, the suspicious one. "I'd better call this Ellison Building. Who's in charge there?"
"A Dr. Welles," Talia replied, flicking the switch on the jammer. A quick telepathic suggestion fogged the first guard's perceptions just enough. A syringe slipped from the sheath in her left sleeve and, moving with reflexes that would put a Minbari dancer to shame, she slid it into the second guard's neck. The tranquilliser took effect immediately, and he went down.
The other guard moved to react, but he was still trying to shake off the multiple Talias he was seeing. His first instinct was to reach for his link, unaware that communications would be blanked. Talia delivered a swift elbow to his neck and he fell.
Now that she had acted, Talia knew she did not have much time. Going to the bed, she quickly studied the wires and tubes, wondering which ones were safe to pull. She had studied Delenn's medical records, which stated most of them were merely to build her strength and aid nutrition. Hopefully none of them was too essential, but Delenn could certainly not be left here.
Besides, Talia thought with a mental shrug, what did she care if anything happened to Delenn? She was a tool, nothing more.
Delenn's eyes suddenly blinked open and Talia found herself looking deeply into them. "Who.... are...?"
Talia was slightly taken aback by the.... tragedy evident in those two words. There was just a hint there of the suffering Delenn must have endured. It was easy to think of her as an alien monster, or as a playing piece on a giant chess board. To see her as a real person....
It reminded Talia of waking up on an operating table, and seeing her people trapped. Their voices had been quiet in her mind lately.
"I'm a friend. We don't have much time. Can you walk?"
"Yes."
"Good." Moving quickly, Talia began disengaging the wires and drips. Delenn even helped. Gently, Talia helped Delenn from the bed, and took the brunt of her weight as she sagged against her. "There's a friend waiting outside, but we have got to hurry."
"I will.... move as fast as I can."
That journey felt like one of the longest of Talia's life, although it took only a few minutes. She knew where the Security patrols were, she trusted Welles' promise to have the necessary points unmanned, she knew fear was pointless, but still every step seemed to take forever, every corridor seemed a marathon.
Finally, she and Delenn slipped out of a side door, to see an ambulance waiting for them. "Inside," Talia whispered.
"Thought you weren't coming," Dexter replied, as he saw the two of them slip into the back of the vehicle. "I was sure they could hear my heart beating from the other side of the planet."
"Stay calm, and we'll get out of this yet. Just go up to the exit, show them your ID, and remain calm. Remember, this is all routine."
"If you say so."
Talia looked down at Delenn, who was breathing heavily, her hair hanging damp across her face. The juxtaposition of such rich dark hair next to an alien face struck Talia as faintly amusing. "Are you all right?"
"No," came the reply. "But I will be. Why.... why did you do this? I came here to die."
"Well, I came here to rescue you. Don't worry, I'm getting paid."
"Who?"
There was a long silence, as Talia debated whether to tell her or not. Welles had said nothing about keeping his name a secret from her, and yet she was trained in secrets. Finally, she decided to share the information.
"Ah," Delenn said softly. "Ah." That was all.
No one said anything more until they were well clear of the compound and moving quickly. Arrangements had been made to dump the vehicle and move on somewhere safe. Unfortunately, and irritatingly, Talia did not know where to. Dexter had arranged the safe house.
"So?" she said at last. "Where are we going?"
"A safe place," he replied. Then, with a boyish smile. "You'll see."
The Tak'cha race possessed a long and fascinating history, but one that Sonovar had no interest in studying. He did not care that they had once believed so passionately in superior beings who had created them that they named themselves the 'Created' in their own language. Nor did he care that this passionate devotion had turned to jealousy, envy and hatred, such that the 'Created' had sought their Gods and had slain one of them. Nor did he care that the Gods had wreaked their bloody vengeance with a ship that blotted out the stars and turned the 'Created's' homeworld to a pile of rock and rubble.
Had Sonovar cared, he would have learned of centuries of wandering and anarchy, and a desperate search for forgiveness and penance. These had ended only when the Blessed Zarwin, the first Sah'thai, had found the Z'ondar, an emissary of the Tak'cha Gods themselves, and had pledged himself to their side. For a brief time they had known true penance and had thrown themselves into this new role with a passionate and furious zeal, eager to rid themselves of the mistakes of past generations.
With Zarwin's exile, the Tak'cha had merely gained another array of sins for which to atone. Rank in their society was achieved by atoning for a long list of sins. The Sah'thai - their leader - had atoned for all but one, and that was the forgotten sin, the sin not even Zarwin had properly understood.