The Price of Shadow
Part 4



==========

"Doctor Akirai?"  He had not expected to be met at the port; he had not even 
given Aiyanna specifics on his travel plans.  As Kijana's eyes moved from the 
identicard the Customs agent was handing back to him to the voice that called 
his name, however, he realized this was not a limousine driver.  The man 
blocking his path was several inches taller than he was, muscular, and not 
particularly friendly.  

"Yes, I'm Doctor Akirai," Kijana replied calmly.  "How may I help you?"  He 
became aware as he spoke that the man in the dark suit was accompanied by two 
others of similar build, fashion, and personality.  

"I've been asked to escort you to the Ministry, Doctor.  The Commissioner would 
like to speak with you."

"I see.  Which ministry and which commissioner would that be?"

The man's scowl etched itself a little deeper into his face.  "Commissioner 
Paoletti of the Ministry of Peace.  Come this way please, Doctor."  He stretched 
a hand toward Akirai's shoulder. 

"And you are?"  Seeing the man startle, he pressed his point, his voice raised 
just enough to attract attention from others in the terminal.  "May I see some 
identification, please?"  

An identicard was flashed which carried some notation about the Ministry of 
Peace, but it did not remain in sight long enough for Akirai to gather any 
meaningful information.  He was escorted to a waiting ground car and ushered 
into the back seat.  The man who had accosted him joined him there, while his 
two companions took the front. 

"Is she OK?"  Akirai asked as they pulled onto the expressway. 

The man beside him looked further annoyed.  "Is who OK?"

"My fiancée.  I assumed I was being summoned because the Commissioner had some 
concern about my fiancée."  Kijana watched the men carefully for reaction.    

"I was asked to escort you to the Ministry.  I was not informed of the reasons 
for Minister's invitation."

The use of the word 'invitation' to describe this trip summoned a laugh Kijana 
was not staid enough to stifle.  Still, he was guessing from the absence of 
reaction that these men did not know of his engagement to Aiyanna, and very 
possibly did not even know Aiyanna.  That was good; it was better not to involve 
her in this.

The drive was not a long one, but it did not terminate at the civic center where 
most government offices were located.  Instead, they turned into the winding 
private drive of a residence on the outskirts of the city.  Several more men, 
all meeting the same basic description as his escort, provided security around 
the estate.  Akirai was escorted into the house and shown to what was described 
as the library.  

Any similarities between that room and a library were no doubt accidental, and 
Kijana felt certain that the Minister would be quick to correct them if they 
were pointed out.  Heavy drapes hung closed over all the windows and though 
Akirai's sense of direction told him this room would face south, into the 
brilliant sun outside, no hint of light penetrated.  The only illumination came 
from two wall sconces, the sole adornments on the otherwise bare walls.  There 
were no books and no bookshelves.  The only furnishings were the large polished 
desk at the west end with its leather upholstered swivel chair, and a smaller 
chair set facing the desk, almost in the center of the room.  

Left waiting for a time sufficient to be rude, Akirai surveyed the place in the 
way he had seen Terry Latimer examine his hotel room.  He looked for 
microphones, cameras, and peepholes, and located a few good candidates.  He 
speculated on the sparse décor, walking here and there in the room, turning to 
face what he assumed was to be his chair, imagining what the camera would see.  

"Please have a seat, Doctor," Paoletti said as the doors opened again.  The two 
large men accompanying him closed the doors and took position to the left and 
right of, and slightly behind, the smaller chair.  Paoletti himself made 
straight for the desk chair, wasting no time on false pleasantries. 

Kijana crossed to the chair, his saunter calculated to conceal the dread gnawing 
at him.  If these people were going to get physical with him, he could do 
nothing to stop them.  He could only take this moment to moment, and hope to 
come away with some information.  And his life. 

His back had only touched the chair when Paoletti fired the first question at 
him.  "Why did you return to Mars?" 

"To complete my research." 

"Does your research include assaults on government officials?"  

"No."  He strove for an even tone.  "Should it?"

"You have been seen associating with known terrorists.  Do you deny this?"

"I cannot admit or deny anything, Commissioner, until I know what accusation is 
being made.  If you..."

"You have been seen associating with known terrorists."

"I heard that the first time, Commissioner.  Names, dates, times, and places 
would be helpful.  Was I in Geneva with President Clark last Tuesday?  No, I was 
not.  But I have no idea who you classify as a known terrorist, or when or where 
I was supposedly seen with them.  If you'll be specific, Commissioner, I'll be 
happy to answer your question."

"You were warned, Doctor, that the path you were pursuing would put you in the 
camp of Free Mars and other groups dedicated to the destruction of peace on this 
planet and its colonies.  Yet you persist, even escalate, your agitation." 

"Commissioner, I am a researcher.  I seek out information.  I do not ally myself 
with any parties in any disputes, political or otherwise.  I simply seek the 
truth."

"And exactly what truth were you seeking when you examined the financial records 
of Edgars Industries, Doctor?"

It quickly became clear that Paoletti was well aware of every avenue of 
investigation Akirai had pursued.  Question after question was fired at him, in 
no logical sequence, trying to shake him into some mistake, some admission.  
Questions were repeated, obvious challenges to his consistency and by extension 
his honesty.  Akirai denied nothing and dodged little.  He was not ashamed of 
his work; he had done nothing wrong.  Did they expect him to level accusations, 
here, now, without supporting evidence or a proper audience?  Paoletti seemed to 
know exactly what Akirai knew.  What was it he wanted to hear?

For hours, the grilling continued, and Akirai's requests for his personal 
papers, for water, even for the use of a lavatory, were ignored.  He was not 
permitted to rise from the chair, or to remove his jacket, and after a time he 
could feel the combination of hunger, thirst, heat, and fatigue beginning to 
slow his wits.  His legs were leaden; even if an opportunity to flee were to 
present itself, he doubted they would carry him. 

There was a rap at the door, and the man at Kijana's left elbow crossed to the 
door.  Through the continuing verbal assault of Paoletti's questions, Akirai 
could not hear the whispered conversation behind him, but he saw Paoletti glance 
that way and abruptly rise and exit the room.  He used the opportunity to fidget 
a bit in his chair, stretching cramped muscles, restoring circulation to 
deadened limbs, until a heavy hand on his shoulder stilled him.  

The Commissioner returned to the room but did not retake his seat.  Instead, he 
stood toe to toe with Akirai, forcing him to tilt his head well back to make eye 
contact.  "Doctor Akirai, I trust that you understand the gravity of your 
actions.  This research is to stop.  No, correction: this research has stopped.  
You will no longer pursue these matters.  

"This is a regional office, Doctor, and out of my concern for your fiancée, I 
have tried to keep this matter in the regional office.  But you are attracting 
the attention of various parties in Geneva, Doctor, and they will not be nearly 
as understanding nor as reasonable as I.  Theirs is not attention you want.  

"I will make no mention of this conversation to my superiors, nor will I mention 
it to Ms. Trudeau.  I expect that when next we meet, undoubtedly at some 
charming cocktail party, we will chat about your impending nuptials, and how 
pleased you are with your move to Johannesburg.  And I will be fascinated to 
hear the details of your newest research.  Until then, Doctor, good day."

With that, he left, the door slamming soundly behind him.  Akirai sat motionless 
in the chair, not daring even to bring his head back to level.  Why this abrupt 
ending?  Why this interrogation at all?  None of this was making sense.  From 
outside, he heard the sound of a car on the gravel drive, and then it stopped.  
The sound of doors slamming, and then the car in motion again, fading away, and 
then returning, stopping.  

"Doctor Akirai?"  The voice came from the library door.  Kijana pushed himself 
up from the chair, but his legs buckled, and a blinding pain hit his brain.  As 
the rich brown woods of the parquetry came nearer his face, they deepened to a 
featureless black. 

==========

"Come on, buddy!"  The unfamiliar voice seemed to drift into his brain on a 
barely perceptible breeze.  "Come on, move it along.  You can't sleep here.  Get 
yourself a room."  Gradually, Akirai was able to bring the source of the sound 
into focus.  The security agent prodded him with a baton, and though the stab 
was gentle, it sent shots of brain to Akirai's brain.  

He signaled his understanding to the officer, and took stock of his 
surroundings.  He was back at the spaceport, outside the Customs area, not 50 
yards from where he had first been accosted.  His bag was at his feet, and he 
appeared unhurt except for a serious headache.  He stood, somewhat shakily, 
checked for his identicard and credit chits, gathered up his belongings, and 
looked for transport home.  

He dozed on and off during the trip to Windhoek, his attempts to decipher what 
had happened repeatedly disintegrating into vivid nightmares.  By the time he 
settled into a cab for the final leg of the trip, he was achy, exhausted, and 
nauseated.  He could not remember when last he ate, but he doubted that he could 
hold food down.  He just wanted sleep, he thought as he keyed the access code 
for his apartment, and he would deal with the rest in the morning.  

An ottoman whacked his shin as he made his way through the darkness to the 
bedroom.  With an expletive, he kicked it back to its usual position.  He had no 
memory of moving it, but he had not spent much time here in the last weeks.  
Dropping his bag just inside the bedroom door, he shrugged off his jacket and 
tossed it on the chair.  The dress shirt, stale and soggy from too much wear, 
was peeled away from his slender frame as he lurched to the bathroom in search 
of an analgesic for his head.  

He could navigate most of this apartment in the dark, but he had no wish to 
poison himself on top of everything else that had happened.  He adjusted the 
bathroom light to allow him to read the labels on the bottles.  As he pushed the 
pills down with hard swallows of water, he studied his face in the mirror.  He 
looked lousy, if he did say so himself.  His eyes were sunken, ringed by dark 
circles, and he was haggard.  Sleep.  Tomorrow, maybe he'd see a doctor.  For a 
moment, his thoughts flew to Terry Latimer, and he wondered where the man was 
now. 

Kijana's hand froze over the light switch.  In the puddles of illumination 
spilling from the bathroom, he could make out snapshots of detail in what he 
called his office.  The desk, bookshelves, and few filing cabinets in the 
bedroom alcove hardly warranted the title, but it was a comfortable workspace 
for him, and one that he kept in precise order.  In the half-light now he could 
see drawers half open, papers spilling out.  Documents were on the desktop, the 
chair, and the floor.  In the bookcase, volumes sat helter-skelter, meeting each 
other at odd angles.  Atop the desk, a tiny light glowed.  His computer, though 
folded closed, was powered on. 

His concentration had not been the best of late, but he knew he had not done 
that.  Carefully, he raised the room lights, and examined the chaos in the 
alcove.  All his files had been ransacked.  It would take hours of work just to 
resort and refile what was strewn about, before he could even determine if 
anything was missing.  His books were widely out of order, as though all of them 
had been pulled down and then randomly restored to the shelves.  Some were open; 
others showed torn or folded pages.  

Slowly, he slid open the bottom desk drawer, pulling it to its full extension.  
At the back of the drawer, on edge like file folders, stood a series of 
reference books.  Few people even owned printed dictionaries and thesauri any 
more; such functions were computerized.  Kijana Akirai, however, loved books, 
less for their utility than for the sheer tactile pleasure they provided.  
Tucked away in the back of the drawer at his right hand were dictionaries in 
several languages, thesauri, and technical reference books.  One by one, he 
lifted them and set them aside.  He stared, sickened, into the empty drawer.  

Before leaving for Mars, he had set aside the notes and documents not 
immediately necessary for the work he wanted to do during the trip.  He hadn't 
known quite why he didn't simply file them, but yielded to his impulses and 
sheathed them in a black binder laid flat in the bottom of the desk drawer.  The 
reference books sat neatly atop it, completely concealing it from casual view.  
Now it was gone.  

When had this happened?  Was this how Paoletti knew all the avenues of research 
he had pursued?  He tried to force a breath to the bottom of his lungs.  What 
exactly was lost?  He tried to be somewhat redundant in his record keeping, for 
safety, and the most important documents he had kept in his case. 

The air caught in his lungs and he lunged for the door.  Stumbling, sprawling on 
the floor, he did not bother to right himself, but yanked open his bag there on 
the rug.  Gone.  All the documents that he had packed with such care, gone.  He 
snapped open an interior pocket.  His portable computer was there, intact.  He 
scrambled to his knees, set the computer on the bed, and switched it on.  It 
booted normally, and seemed, on cursory examination, to be operating normally. 

Akirai rose and returned to the desk.  Carefully, he lifted the vid screen of 
the computer unit there.  Not only was the unit powered on but it was logged in 
to the global net, under his name.  How had they hacked his password?  That 
wasn't recorded anywhere.  He called up files.  Time after time the same 
message.  File not found. 

Paoletti's people had been thorough and precise.  They had eliminated any trace 
of his research, but hadn't disturbed any other files.  A spark of hope stirred 
in him.  He already knew it was vain, but he tried a file recovery utility 
anyway.  Not a trace.  

A long, slow exhalation served to calm him slightly, but also made him aware 
that the analgesic had done little for his headache.  There was probably nothing 
he could do tonight.  Perhaps there was nothing he could do at all.  Perhaps 
Paoletti and the Ministry of Peace had won this one.  He should probably sleep.  

Turning back to the computer to order a shutdown, Kijana's attention was caught 
by the blink of the message indicator.  For a moment, he considered deleting it 
unread, suspecting it was another summons to Mitchell's office, but some voice 
told him to look.  The message was in fact from Aiyanna and Saada, a mixture of 
good-natured teasing, loving concern for him, and sensible communication of 
their whereabouts and intentions.  They were, they told him, going back out to 
the dig. 

He laughed at them as he deleted the message.  An incomparable pair, they could 
still be as giddy as they'd been as schoolgirls, but heaven help anyone who got 
in the way of their intentions.  Even now, with all the obstacles that had been 
thrown up, they were still fighting to make that dig happen.  Still fighting, 
against all odds.  He smiled as he pictured what they must have been doing now.  
Probably huddled in sleeping bags, staring up at the stars, trading dreams, and 
bolstering one another's resolve.  

Akirai fought through staggering fatigue to push himself up from the chair.  
Once again he rummaged through his suitcase, extracted his toilet kit, and 
lurched back toward the bathroom.  A few quick splashes of cool water on his 
face and neck got the blood moving again.  He could feel his head begin to clear 
as he stripped off the rest of his clothes and quickly washed up.  Padding back 
to the bedroom, he rummaged about until he found clean clothes. 

When he was dressed, he stepped back into the bathroom, and from his kit 
extracted a small bottle.  It snapped open with a crisp pop, and he shook it 
once and studied its contents.  With one hand he unscrewed the cap on the bottle 
of pain reliever tablets, and poured them carefully into the smaller bottle.  
When both bottles were tightly sealed, he tucked the smaller one into his 
pocket, grabbed his car keys from the hall table, and set out toward the 
Kalahari, and Saada's dig. 

==========

Akirai locked in the all-terrain drive; he had no wish to find himself stuck in 
sandy soil.  With engine running and safety restraints in place, he paused to 
lower all the windows.  The night air did not require cooling, and the rush of 
wind would help to keep him awake.  For one more force on that front, he chose 
lively music from the sound system, and turned it up loud. 

It would be light before he reached them and he'd probably be too exhausted to 
be any use to them, but somehow it seemed right that he be with them.  There was 
a feeling of solidarity and safety when they were together and he needed that 
right now.  There was nothing that resembled a road out where he was headed, so 
he paid close attention to the onboard navigation system, and sang along with 
the music to keep himself alert.  

It was difficult to keep focus on the long straight run.  The countryside, 
though strikingly beautiful, possessed a certain monotony, especially when 
shrouded in darkness.  His mind tended to wander back to the events of the 
previous day and forward to a most uncertain future.  He snapped himself back to 
attention, shaking off the latest reverie and turning again to the navigation 
computer.  He was on course, and off to the East the first shoots of sunrise 
bloomed.  He rechecked distance.  By the time the sun was fully up, he should be 
able to see signs of the dig in the distance.  He reached out to turn the music 
up.  

The searing sound blasted through his brain, an agony firing through his nervous 
system like a scream.  Instinctively, he slammed on the brake, the sudden lock 
up sending the vehicle skidding wildly over the sandy plain.  There was nothing 
on the dusty savanna to cause any impact, but several terrifying seconds passed 
before the car stopped.  Though the source of the terrifying wail seemed to be 
gone, the memory of the noise and its effects stayed in his body.  He flung open 
the door and looked around for the source.  

He found only darkness.  Frantically, he tried to orient himself.  The car had 
spun, but the first signs of sunrise should show him east.  He turned full 
circle.  Cloud cover hid the sun, hid the moon and the stars.  Cloud cover he 
had not seen before, sitting low and ominous on the landscape.  Black sky that 
here and there seemed to shimmer as if it moved.

He was tired, too tired.  Perhaps he shouldn't have made this trip.  He could 
forgive himself a bit of paranoia right now, but he drew the line at 
hallucinations.  With a sigh, he slipped back into the car, and checked the 
navigation system.  Thirty degrees left should take him straight to the dig.  

The tremble in his hands as he adjusted the safety harness assured him such 
precautions were worth the time they took.  Carefully, he pushed the car into 
motion again, easing it gently into the correct orientation.  Ahead of him the 
sky shimmered, black on black.  As soon as he got to the site, he would sleep.  

He searched the darkness for some sign of the dig site.  His heading was right 
and at this distance, he should be able to see something, but though he strained 
his eyes, he could find nothing.  Akirai winced as a brilliant flash illuminated 
the dunes.  There was the site, dead ahead; he leaned on the accelerator.  That 
lightening strike had carried tremendous energy.  They might be in for a storm.  
Could that awful screech have been some distorted thunder?  He had heard it said 
that the desert amplified sound, although he had always dismissed it as legend.  
Could it have any basis in fact?

Another flash of light cut the sky ahead of him, and Akirai realized with horror 
that the strikes he was observing were not the jagged streaks of lightening, but 
the precision beams of a weapon.  He pushed harder on the accelerator, willing 
the car to travel faster than physics decreed.  Even faster, his mind raced to 
imagine what this attacker was or why it aimed its fury on the dig site.  
Another flash, and a new sound, low and deep, echoing, trembling through the air 
and through the ground, the rush of collapsing earth.  The car leapt to its 
maximum speed, held there as much by the force of his will as by his foot on the 
pedal.  The pace was terrifying but not so frightening as the thoughts of what 
he might find.  Rough terrain did not slow him, nor did the reoccurrence of that 
paralyzing scream as the shimmering blackness melted into sunrise. 

Akirai leapt from the car before it was fully halted, scrambling to the edge of 
the dig where the safety lines were tethered.  Before him, terrifying 
devastation tumbled downward.  An entire wall of the dig site was collapsed, 
dirt and rock cascading over the carefully mapped grid work.  He called, but no 
reply came back.  Without waiting to rig his own safeties, he followed the 
existing lines downward, the ropes reducing his palms to bloody meat.  The lines 
disappeared under piles of rubble.  He called, and tried to still himself enough 
to listen for some sound over the pounding of his heart.  He started to dig, 
clawing barehanded at the rock and debris.  With both hands, he dug, like an 
animal burrowing, with each push of earth calling out a name, praying for an 
answer.  He dug, bloody and breathless, until he found them.  

The screaming had left him no voice to pray.  He fell back against the fallen 
earth, one broken body cradled in each arm, and he wept. 

==========

He had always loved it here.  It made him feel tiny, dwarfed by its 
incomprehensible vastness, yet not insignificant.  No, rather he knew that here 
he was the most powerful being in the universe, for all of it belonged to him, 
or could, given time enough. 

He listened as his footfalls on the rutted marble steps echoed through the 
labyrinthine corridors, bouncing back to him from the vaulted ceilings.  
Pausing, he reached a hand out to fondle a favorite.  The leather was smooth and 
cool, worn dry at the edges, its sweet musk setting memories ricocheting in his 
brain. 

Gently, he began to search, random at first in his attack, but soon he found the 
spine had its own memory, opening automatically to the pages that he knew by 
heart.  These were words that calmed his soul, ideas that stirred his courage.  
Here a thousand times before he had found the strength to go on, the peace to 
remain.  Today it would not be enough.

The words lay unseen before him as tears washed his cheeks.  Helpless and 
frightened he stood in the place where he sought his strength and comfort, but 
it failed him, failed in the face of the unspeakable horror, the unchangeable 
truth.  He closed the book and hugged it to his chest, hunching over, folding 
himself in on the pain.  Curled in a fetal pose, he rocked, seeking shelter in 
the womb of wisdom, but the library only cataloged his sobs.

==========

He had performed all the rituals.  He had observed all the social conventions.  
Would he never be left in peace, he wondered.  Slowly, Kijana Akirai pushed 
himself to his feet.  The apartment was in semi-darkness, though it was full 
daylight outside, and stacks of boxes from Aiyanna's Johannesburg flat 
redirected the familiar pathways.  Carefully, he made his way to the door to 
respond to the unrelenting signal.  Probably another well-meaning neighbor with 
another casserole. 

He checked the identity of the caller, less out of any concern for his own 
security than out of the need to know what persona to present.  The university 
people liked a reserved sadness still professional enough to talk a little shop; 
grandmotherly neighbors and relatives wanted a sweet young man who needed to be 
fussed over.  There was no one to whom he dared show who he really was and all 
that he really felt. 

He moved quickly to open the door, startled by the face on the monitor.  "How 
did you find me?" he asked of the slender blond man in the duster. 

Terry Latimer smiled.  "I was the one who went through your papers, remember?  
You think I didn't make note of the details?"  He rocked back on to his heels 
and forward again, awkwardly holding his smile. 

Akirai realized abruptly that Latimer was still in the hallway.  "Terry, I'm 
sorry.  Please come in.  Forgive me.  I'm ... I'm not myself."  As Latimer 
picked a path between the boxes, Kijana adjusted the interior lights.  He 
wondered if he should open the drapes, but the effort seemed more energy than he 
had.

Latimer turned to face him, head cocked to one side.  His eyes studied the young 
man before him and his voice was gentle.  "KJ, what's happened?  Forgive me, but 
you look like hell."

Kijana was not quite sure when he started to cry, but tears fell steadily as he 
poured out for Latimer the story of Aiyanna and Saada's deaths.  The ranger 
offered no platitudes and asked no questions.  He simply laid an arm around KJ's 
shoulders as he listened.  When the story was done, and the tears fell in 
earnest, that arm drew Kijana into a gentle hug.  That silent embrace lasted 
until the tears had run their course. 

"I'm sorry, Terry," Kijana said as he pushed away, "I didn't mean to dump all 
this on you.  Can I give you some coffee or something?"

"Coffee would be great.  Can I give you a hand?"  He followed KJ into the tiny 
kitchen and perched on a stool while his host bustled about with the coffee. 

"So what brings you here, Terry?"  Akirai asked.  "You didn't come just to pay a 
condolence call."  He looked away from the man, conscious of how swollen his 
eyes were and how easily the tears could start again. 

Latimer nodded.  "I actually came to ask a favor of you," he explained.  
Following Kijana's glance to the cabinet above his head, he reached back and 
flipped it open, ducking the door as it skimmed by.  He turned slightly to 
survey the contents and pulled down two mugs. 

"Thanks," KJ offered.  "What can I do for you?"

"I carried the information you uncovered to the people who are working on the 
antitoxin, and they're deeply grateful.  They were close when I left them.  They 
may have an answer already, thanks to you."  He waited while Kijana filled the 
mugs with the hot brew. 

"Now I've been ordered to return to Minbar to make a full report to Ranger One."

Kijana drank deeply of the bitter liquid.  "Ranger One?  Your commander?"

Latimer nodded.  "Yes.  KJ, if you'd permit me, I'd like to take some of the 
files you showed me back to Minbar.  I'll return them to you afterward, of 
course."

"They're gone."

Latimer's eyes jumped to Kijana.  "Gone?  You destroyed them?"

Akirai shook his head and slumped back against the chair as he recounted the 
story of his homecoming to the Ranger.  "Hard copy, data files - all gone."

"KJ, I'm sorry."

Akirai waved away his remorse.  "Will this cause problems for you?  Your 
commander - will he accept your account without the files to back it up?" 

Latimer nodded.  "That's not a problem.  I just wanted him to have a look at 
your materials.  I thought that with the Ambassador's experience with EarthGov 
and the time he spent on Mars, he might see something we missed, make some 
connection we wouldn't think of."

"Ambassador?"  Kijana asked.  "What ambassador?"

A sharp inhalation marked Latimer's realization that he had spoken too freely.  
"KJ, I'm sorry.  I..."

"No, please.  I didn't mean to pry.  I understand the need for confidentiality.  
I guess, from what you told me, I had imagined that your commander was Minbari."

"In the past, the post of Ranger One has been held by Minbari.  Sinclair is the 
first human to hold the title."

"Sinclair?  Jeffrey Sinclair?"

"Yes.  You know him?"

"I know of him.  One of the few survivors of The Line.  Some people call him a 
hero; others make insinuations about how he got out of it alive.  He commanded 
the Babylon Station when it first went on line, and then he was assigned as 
ambassador to Minbar.  Some people think his relationship with the Minbari is 
too good."  Kijana poured more coffee.  "He's your commander?"

Latimer nodded and watched for Akirai's reaction.  

"Damn."  He watched the steam curl up from his cup.  "There's more to this 
story, isn't there?"

Again Latimer nodded, but still he did not speak.  

Akirai took a long swallow and closed his eyes while the warmth of the liquid 
radiated through his body.  "Well," he sighed, "if we can't show the files to 
Sinclair, how about the next best thing?"  He turned toward Latimer's quizzical 
glance.  "How about I go to Minbar with you, and tell Sinclair what I found?  Or 
would that be a breach of security?"

"I couldn't ask that of you, KJ.  Your life is here.  And especially now..."

"My life was here, Terry.  I don't know where it is, or if it is, now.  I've 
lost my family, my future, and my work.  What's to hold me?"

The two men sat in silence for a few moments.  "Are you under time pressure?"  
Akirai asked finally, his voice trembling.  "The boxes are from the flat Yani 
found for us in Johannesburg.  I still have to clean out Saada's flat."

Latimer drained his cup.  "I'll give you a hand, if that's all right."

==========

They made little conversation during the brief trip to Saada's flat and the 
unquestioning transfer of objects from their places in drawers and cupboards to 
cartons which pain would keep sealed.  The silence invested the task with a 
dignity and a sense of ritual.  Akirai wondered if Latimer had learned that from 
the Minbari. 

The ranger carried a box from the kitchen and set it by the door.  Silently, 
Kijana surveyed the emptying space.  "Just her office left, I guess," he 
whispered.  Latimer grabbed a box and followed him to the work area.  

A few books scooped from the shelf filled the bottom.  Latimer stood by as 
Akirai emptied the contents of the desk into the box, drawer by drawer.  
Finally, the young man gathered up the collection of small photos that decorated 
the desktop, and the still disordered briefcase, and set them into the carton.  
"That's it, then."

The ranger handed him a square plastic case.  "This was on the cabinet."  

KJ saw it only for an instant.  Tears erased it from his sight as soon as he 
realized what it held.  The explanation he tried to offer Latimer was choked 
with pain and rage.  "Samples...from the dig."  When he had control again, he 
thought aloud.  "They were so important to her.  I can't just throw them away.  
But I can't keep them, Terry.  I just don't want to be reminded..."

"I understand.  A museum, perhaps?  Or the university?"

Akirai shrugged, stopped, shrugged again.  He gathered up the box filled from 
the desk and carried it to the door.  Latimer set the case down on the desktop 
and gently unfastened the lid.  A chill ran through him when he saw its 
contents.  Closing it, he crossed to the door.  

"Are you ready to go, KJ?  Would you like some time alone?"

Kijana shook his head.  "Let's get this stuff back to the apartment.  I'll throw 
some things in a bag and we can get ourselves to Minbar."

==========

Akirai waited just inside the doorway of the little anteroom while Latimer spoke 
with the Ambassador's assistant.  

"It should just be a few minutes," Latimer said when he returned.  "Please, sit 
down."  He gestured toward a polished wooden bench.  

"I've been sitting too long," Akirai replied, rolling his head in an attempt to 
loosen some of the muscle tension and the headache it was causing.  They had 
come straight from the port to the Ambassador's office.  Kijana felt achy, 
foggy, and rather grubby.  Not exactly putting his best foot forward.  And now a 
headache. 

They were admitted to the office in short order, and Latimer presented him to 
the ambassador.  Kijana was not certain what he had expected of Jeffrey 
Sinclair, but he found himself surprised by the man's warm and unaffected 
greeting.  He was even more startled, and deeply touched, by Sinclair's 
expression of sympathy.  When had Latimer passed that message?

"We appreciate your coming all the way to Minbar, Doctor," the ambassador said 
as they seated themselves round a conference table,  "and I'm sorry our 
hospitality hasn't been better.  We will get you a place to rest and clean up, I 
promise."

Only able to offer a nod and a weak smile, Kijana let Latimer begin the 
briefing.  When the specifics of the toxin came up, he presented what he had 
learned about the disappearance of the osbornite from the Martian mines.  
Sinclair's questions turned the conversation to the role of Mars Conglomerate 
and EarthGov in the acquisition and disposition of the material, a subject that 
led naturally to Kijana's experiences with the Ministry of Peace.  

"I'm sorry I can't offer you anything more than an oral account, Ambassador.  
The files are gone, and under the circumstances I have to assume the Ministry of 
Peace is responsible for that."

"Of course, you can't prove that," Sinclair pointed out.  

"No, there's no proof."  He studied the man, wondering if he had been unwise to 
speak against the Ministry of Peace. 

"They're careful to see that their work can't be traced," Sinclair explained 
with a sly smile.  "They work in darkness and shadow." 

"There's something else you should see, Ambassador," Latimer added.  He opened 
the travel bag he had deposited beside his chair, and retrieved a box.  Akirai 
recognized the case as Saada's samples.  He watched Sinclair pale as he opened 
it. 

"Where did you get these?"  Sinclair's question floated in the air like dust in 
a sunbeam.  So hushed Kijana was not sure he had not imagined it, it hung 
suspended over the room defying time's attempts to dispel it. 

Akirai's voice rasped over a dry throat.  "They were excavated from the dig my 
sister had been conducting when she died.  From the site where she and my 
fiancée died."  He stopped to regain his composure and rubbed at the pain now 
throbbing in his temples. 

"Can we get you something for that headache?"  

"Thank you, Ambassador," he replied, grateful as much for the distraction as for 
the offer.  "I think I have something, if I could just trouble you for some 
water."  Latimer jumped to his feet and crossed the office to fetch a pitcher 
and glass, while Kijana fumbled in his travel bag.  Terry set the water before 
him as he extracted his kit.  

"Do you realize what you have here, Doctor?"  Sinclair asked, as KJ rummaged for 
the right bottle. 

He took a long breath.  "Saada believed that she had found the remains of an 
ancient but advanced civilization.  She had researched those markings 
extensively.  They are completely unknown."  Realizing that the bottle he sought 
was not in the kit, he tried to think back to the last time he had used it. 

"Not completely unknown," Sinclair said softly.  He looked from the artifacts 
before him, to Akirai, and then to Latimer, who nodded.  "What your sister 
stumbled upon, Doctor Akirai, is indeed an ancient and advanced civilization, 
one remembered in only a few places in the universe, and there with horror."

Quietly, Sinclair spoke of a race of Shadows, a race old when human history 
began.  He spoke of the evil and destruction they brought forth and of the Great 
War a thousand years earlier.  "There are rumors that once they had a presence 
on our home planet, but those who tell the stories can only guess at where.  
Every location in which the Shadows were known to have hidden, throughout the 
galaxy, became desolate and uninhabitable."

"The desertification of the Kalahari," Akirai muttered.  His companions eyed him 
quizzically.  "It is theorized that the Kalahari was not always desert.  It's a 
savanna, a grassland, but over the centuries the ecology changed.  Now, it's 
arid.  There are pans - large clay basins where runoff and rain water collect.  
But the water is undrinkable.  It's too saline even for the desert creatures.  
The ancient stories say it wasn't always like that."

Sinclair nodded sadly.  "I'm afraid that what your sister unearthed was a Shadow 
base, and the attack you witnessed was their attempt to make certain it stayed 
hidden.  I'm sorry, Doctor."

Akirai sat silent, memories stirring behind his eyes.  "Ambassador?"

"Yes?"

"This Shadow race.  You said few people knew of them.  Is it possible that IPX 
might have encountered them in some exploration?"

"Why do you ask?"

"An archeologist who once worked for IPX helped Saada find funding initially, 
but once those pieces were brought out, his associates went to great lengths to 
shut down the dig.  Doctor Morden was assigned to an explorer ship out on the 
Rim, a vessel called the Icarus, that went down on Z'ha'dum."

Sinclair made no answer to his question.  "Doctor, I don't want to frighten you 
but you need to be very careful how you conduct yourself when you return home.  
You clearly have made a few enemies of your own in the Ministry of Peace, and I 
fear you may inherit the enemies your sister has made."

"Is there really a difference, Ambassador?  You talk about a race of evil.  Our 
government is creating weapons for genocide.  How much more evil can a people 
become?"

Sadness darkened Sinclair's eyes.  "Be careful when you get home."

"With all due respect, Ambassador, I think I am home."  He turned to Latimer.  
"I told you I didn't know where my life was anymore.  Well, maybe I do."  He 
faced Sinclair squarely.  "I understand something of your rangers, Ambassador, 
and of what you're trying to do.  Not everything, probably, but enough to know I 
want to be a part of it.  If you'll have me, sir, I'd like to be a ranger."

Slowly, a smile spread across Jeffrey Sinclair's face.  "What you ask is not a 
step to be taken lightly, Doctor Akirai."

"Kijana," he said softly.

Ranger One nodded.  "You need to think this over, Kijana.  Why don't we find you 
a place to rest and get cleaned up?  You could probably use a good meal, too.  
Then if you still feel the same way, we can talk."

"Thank you, sir."  Akirai nodded and the simple movement made his head throb.  
Suddenly, he remembered.  He rummaged through his bag again and located a small 
bottle.  With a twist of his wrist he opened it and allowed a shower of tablets 
to rain down on the tabletop.  "I had taken it with me the night they died," he 
said as he glanced inside the container.  

"I hope your headache won't need all that," Sinclair laughed.  

"It won't," Kijana replied.  He rapped the container sharply against the palm of 
his hand.  "And this may give us the proof we need," he said, offering the data 
crystal to Sinclair. 

==========

Staying sober, Michael Garibaldi knew, was a job you handled one day at a time.  
Some days were harder than others.  If he could make the next few hours without 
a drink, this day would be one for the trophy case.  

Not only had Mr. MacAfee of the Ministry of Peace started recruiting for the 
network of spies he called Night Watch, but he had signed up Garibaldi's second 
in command.  But that's OK.  There's a man down in the holding cell who's 
supposed to be dead, and a Narn in the cellblock singing opera.  Sheridan is 
acting a little deranged, even for a man who's dealing with grief, and they just 
finished a whiz-bang little argument about regulations.  And just to round out 
the day, he had quit his job.  

Where better to end this day than in DownBelow?  He glanced around him in the 
half-light of the corridor before flipping open a rusty access hatch.  The same 
motion that whipped his body through the hatch kicked the door shut.  He stood 
still and silent in the musty compartment until a light flickered to life and a 
figure stepped from the shadows.  

Garibaldi nodded at the slender young man with the close-cropped black hair.  He 
wore the tunic and flowing duster that had become familiar to Garibaldi and on 
his right shoulder the badge that marked Sinclair's rangers.  The man bowed in 
greeting.  "I am Kijana Akirai, Mr. Garibaldi.  Ranger One has sent me."

The Price of Shadow		1