See Part One for Disclaimers

They complied, turning slowly to see who their opponents were, and how many.  Too damn many.  Ten men had disembarked from the ship, each held a rifle pointed directly at them.  From the nervous looks on the approaching men's faces, he guessed this was a little out of their league, making them all the more dangerous.

"Wait," Shera's soft tones reached him, her voice a mere whisper.  He gave the slightest of nods, acknowledging her command.  Standing behind the group was Chad, his face neutral, his damaged fingers splinted and bandaged, hung limp at his sides.

"Bring them along, quickly."

With the business end of a gun shoved in his back Marcus was escorted back to the ship, Shera following slowly behind, blood seeping from her injured leg.

"Let's move, come on, hurry."  Chad's insistent tones had them in the flyer and in flight, with the barest of grumbles from the men.  Marcus slid along the bench until he and Shera were touching.  He kept his voice low, "How bad is it?"

"What are you saying?  Don't talk."  The hulking guard stood over them, his gun pointed first at one and then the other.  Marcus wondered why Caron had not sent his regular security out on this mission; these men were obviously out of their depth.

"I was asking how bad her leg was.  Remember, you put a hole in it?  She's in a lot of pain, can't you do something to help?"

Enquiring eyes turned to Chad for guidance.  "Sir?"

"Well, Chad?  I know we didn't exactly hit it off right away, but will you see her bleed to death?"

"Get a bandage or something; painkillers from the med.  kit.  I'll keep and eye on them."

"Thanks."  He eyed his captor for a moment.  Was there the faintest hint of distaste on the man's face?  "How did they come up with us so fast?" he asked, keeping his voice low even.

The look of distaste, and maybe something deeper flitted across Chad's expressive face.  Speaking as though the words were being forced from him, Chad replied in a harsh whisper.  "Caron trusted me so much he had me bugged!"

A moan from the woman leaning against him alerted Marcus to the re-appearance of the massive guard and he quickly turned his attention to Shera.  He could see now that the wound was pretty much superficial and yet she sat with her eyes closed, a crease of pain etched on her forehead.  Changing to Minbari he questioned her solicitously.

"Shera, I don't know what you are playing at, but make them think it's a lot worse than it is, okay?"

Using the same language, Shera's reply was laced with feigned agony.  "Right, Marcus, what did you think I was doing!"

He suppressed the grin that threatened his composure, and squeezed her hand in supposed sympathy.

"Enough!" Chad's brisk tone cut through their by play.  Marcus stole a quick look in his direction and thought he saw the merest flicker of understanding on his captor's face.  If he had understood then he obviously was not going to voice his suspicions.  Was Chad, after all they had done to him, going to end up an ally?

They walked slowly down the long corridor to Caron's office, Shera leaning heavily on him.  Where his arm circled her waist he could feel the knife tucked in the small of her back.  Chad had hurried them along so quickly that they had still not been searched, and now Marcus was sure that, for whatever reason, Chad was on their side.  It only needed to be seen how they could utilise this unexpected bonus.  The escort was now down to four men and Chad.  Two to one odds that would not be a problem in ordinary circumstances, but they had to get away from here, to get what findings they could back to Sinclair.  He had attended a few of Sinclair's classes early on in his training, and one thing had stuck with him, 'If in doubt, wait', and, 'If the odds seem stacked against you, don't try to fight your way out, wait for the opening, seize it when you can.  Don't make yourself a martyr'.

So they waited.

***

Dareth Caron sat in state behind his massive desk, his sunken eyes fixed on Shera's face.

"Chad, stay; the rest of you, go.  No, wait, two of you stay outside the door, I'll need you later."

The odds were coming down in their favour, but they were not out of the woods yet.  Shera still hung heavily on his arm, her fingers clenched tightly into his sleeve, knuckles white against the dark material.

"So, Shera, my beloved daughter, how lovely to see you again!"  Caron's deep chuckle hung in the air.  "Were my men a little rough with you?  How unfortunate."

"I'll survive."

"Oh, I do hope so, I have so much I want to share with you."  Caron's stubby fingers moved almost involuntarily to the scar across his throat.  "So much to share," he reiterated softly.

Marcus felt the threat hanging between them.  He stepped in.

"That's nice, I like family reunions, don't you?  Especially Christmas, love that time of year, all that giving and receiving, getting drunk with Uncle Howard, Santa getting stuck in the chimney.  Not that we actually had a chimney on the station but . . ."

"Enough!" Caron turned his attention to Marcus as he had hoped he would.  Giving Shera time to gather herself.

The respite was brief.  "Did you know, my dear daughter, that your mother was a latent telepath?"

Shera stiffened at his side as she took in his meaning.  Marcus, his own brain working quickly caught his meaning too.

"Ah, I see that Chad shared our little secret with you, how unfortunate; I had wanted that pleasure for myself."

"You wouldn't, your own daughter!" The words exploded from him unguarded.

"Why, Mr Cole, don't you think a father knows best for his child?" Again the deep chuckle reverberated around the room.

"Dareth . . ."

"Not you too, Chad.  You disappoint me.  But then you always do.  We'll discuss this later you and I.  For now I want to explain to my dear child here, exactly what I have in store for her."

"You think no-one knows what you are up to, Caron?  Why do you think we are here, hum?  We know everything about these experiments of yours.  Taking Shadow technology will get you killed; they don't like sharing their toys.  And if they don't put you out of business, we will."

"You think so, Cole?  And how do you propose to stop me?  I have had you followed every hour since you arrived on this planet.  I know that you have not reported to anyone here, and that you have made no transmissions off world.  Who is going to know, Cole, where you are and what became of you?  Another little accident maybe, we have such terrible weather on Turnis.  An unfortunate run in with one of our more highly charged electrical storms perhaps?"

Caron turned his attention back to Shera.  "I have high hopes for you.  Those dregs we took from the penal colony were trash, but you! Your mother was a strong woman and you have my genes too.  My father was a telepath, it runs in families.  Perhaps you will be my first success."

"I'll kill you for this, Caron.  What you are doing here is . . ."

"Enough, I said! Chad, take them down to the labs.  Get McLean to begin preparations.  I'll join you shortly."

"Marcus," Shera's tone was confidential, yet laced with suppressed anger that made her shake as his side.

"Patience," he sighed back.

As the two captives were led away the tall figure of a man stepped out of the shadows cast by the half open door to Chad's adjoining office.

"We need to talk, Mr Caron," Morden said with quiet menace.

***

Chad led the way to a bank of transport tubes, selecting the one furthest from Caron's office.  Punching in his code the doors swished open.  Two burly security men were stationed inside the cramped enclosure.

"You two wait here," Chad directed the men who currently escorted the captives.  The men looked relieved.  He indicated for Marcus and Shera to enter, nodded at the two security men and punched the button sending them down toward the labs.

"Long way down," Marcus commented, as the number ticked by on the display.

"The labs are situated near the old mines, a very long way from the surface."  Chad's tone was even, controlled and he avoided Marcus' eyes studiously.

His pulse raced a little, the thought of action buzzing through his veins.  Beside him, Shera had tensed too.  Slowly she moved her weight away from his support, until both her arms were hanging free.  Hiding the subtle movements where her cloak wrapped against her body.

The doors opened onto another long, bleak corridor and two new security men.  Chad stepped out, Marcus and Shera behind him.  Waiting until the doors closed once more he waved them to walk ahead.  The security men fell in behind them, Chad bringing up the rear.  Marcus' eyes surveyed the corridor quickly.  Ahead, tucked into the corner of the ceiling was at least one surveillance device, as he scanned ahead two more caught his eye.  At the end of the corridor stood two identical doors at right angles to one another.  Without Chad's help they could be running around the damn corridors for days.   C'mon, c'mon, he thought, over and over.

A light cough from Chad alerted all his senses, it would be soon.

"Now, if you're going to do it do it now!" Chad hadn't got the first words past his lips before Shera and Marcus burst into action.  A knife flew with deadly accuracy taking one guard in the throat.  The ppg she had taken from Chad blazed as it took out two of the surveillance cameras.

Marcus was having a harder time of it.  The second guard, more alert than his companion, got off a shot that singed Marcus' hair before being felled by two feet landing solidly in his chest.  The man was down but not out, picking himself up quickly, he ran a tackle into Marcus as he too rose from the floor.  Marcus lifted a sharp knee into the man's groin, slamming down on the suddenly unprotected neck, hearing the crack of breaking bones as his assailant crumpled lifeless to the floor.

"This way, hurry."  Chad had one of the doors open and was urging them on, panic written on his face.  "For god's sake, hurry.  This place is alive with security."

Chad's warning came too late.  Booted feet thundered down the corridor toward them.  Five men, armed, tore into them, Chad headed through the door leaving Shera and Marcus to make their own way.

As one, they released their pikes, smashing back into the formation that headed toward them.  Weapons went flying as the denn'bok smashed hands with savage blows, followed with stunning hits to head and heart.  One man got off a shot but it flew wide as Shera took his legs from under him with a sweeping gesture, her pike slamming down into his unprotected face.  It had taken them moments to take out the five men and Marcus' blood sang with the energy of battle.

Shera grabbed a rifle from the floor and followed Marcus.

"Where did he go?" Breath still came in short gasps as they ran through the still open door.  Ahead, two passages offered themselves to the fleeing rangers.

"Just pick one," Shera shouted as she worked on locking the door behind them.  There was nothing in sight to block the entrance; they would have to make the best of the brief respite they currently had.

Trusting to instinct, Marcus took the left-hand passage, running full pelt into the gloom, Shera on his heels.  Behind them, they heard the crash of the door being slammed open and picked up speed.

His senses had proved correct, in a matter of minutes they had caught up with Chad, who stumbled along the ill-lit corridor, gasping for breath.

"Where to, Chad?" Marcus had the man by the arm, holding him upright.  The man was grey, his lips turning a terrible blue colour.

"Can't go on," he muttered.  "Can't . . ."

"Chad, help us here.  We'll get you out."

The light died behind Chad's eyes as an already weak heart gave up the fight.

"Ah, shit!" Marcus swore.  Sounds of pursuit could be heard behind them, grabbing the torch from Chad's belt they ran on, seeking some way out of the maze they were in.

Corridors disappeared into the distance on both side of the corridor.  They were unlit, not used except as storage, blind alleys he guessed continuing forward.  Gradually, the corridor seemed to narrow, the walls changed from shiny metal to rough rock.  They had to be near the old mines.

The pace they had set seemed to have defeated their followers, but neither of them would slow the pace.  Suddenly, ahead they faced the walled up end of the tunnel.  Set in the centre was a code-operated door, big enough for one person to enter at a time.  Marcus looked to Shera for guidance.  She had been top of her class on computer skills, not much was safe from her hacking talents when she set her mind to something.

Without a word she handed him the rifle and bent to her task.  He took up a position down the tunnel and waited.  Even if Caron's men checked every side corridor it would not be long before they caught up with them, and if Shera could not open the door, they had nowhere to run.  His fingers tightened against the trigger, they would not go down alone.  His one regret would be that they had failed to get the evidence Sinclair needed.  Their first mission as rangers and it had to go pear shaped on them.

Voices carried up the tunnel to his position and he readied himself, calling back a warning to Shera.  His eyes glanced upward, noting the rocky ceiling for the first time.  It would be a desperate move, he could kill them both but . . .He fired a continuous burst into the compacted rock some twenty metres ahead of him.  Hearing the shouts of men heading in his direction, his actions having alerted them to his presence.  The roof caved with a satisfying rumble, spraying dust and debris into the air temporarily choking him.  It would take them a while to dig through, hopefully he had given Shera enough time to open the lock.

He stood at her shoulder, anxious yet saying nothing, right now she would not appreciated his wit or his comments.

"What the . . ." A terrible screaming noise reverberated in his head, Shera looked up too.  As suddenly as it came it vanished, leaving his head aching slightly.  A click and the door swung ajar, turning their attentions to the black hole now open before them.

***

The tunnels ran further underground than either of them expected.  They had left the flyer at the old mine's entrance some five clicks away.  Hopefully these passages would link up to the entrance.

Now that they knew of Caron's involvement with the Shadows, it was vital that they get back to Minbar.  They had to get off Turnis with this information, the sooner the better.

"This is one time my lack of inches actually comes in handy," Shera threw back as she strode upright along the small passage.  Marcus, some few inches taller, was wondering how long his back would hold up walking constantly bent at the waist.

"I think they could cast me as Quasimodo in the next Christmas panto," he panted.  The lack of air was also getting to him.

"Who's Quasimodo?"

"Quasimodo?  Small man, big heart, had this lump on his back and a huge crush on the local beauty.  Great fellow, a little deaf though."

She grinned at his explanation, even though she did not understand a word he was saying.  Just something in his cheerful tone always made her smile.

The tunnel narrowed again, and now Shera too had to bend, soon they were on all fours, the air became almost unbreathable and for the first time they considered giving up.

A rumble started far in the distance, a warm rush of foetid air washed over them and the earth around them began to tremble.

"Earthquake?" Marcus asked, his stomach turning uncomfortably.

"Get out of here, quick," came Shera's reply, and both moved forward as fast as the confining walls would allow.  The sound grew louder, the mild trembling escalated into full-blown tremors and his heart rate rose to match the pounding in his temples.  They were barely upright as a massive rumble started behind them, Shera screamed to Marcus to run, shoving him hard from behind.

With a crash that thundered though him the ceiling directly above Shera collapsed, burying her under a mountain of rubble.  Ignoring the danger Marcus turned back, his hands moving rocks and dirt as fast as it continued to fall.  Finally he found her, face down though still breathing, her skin ashen.

"Shera?" He leant closer, listening intently for the faintest sound of a breath.  Yes, the barest whisper of air! He continued his digging, terrified that he could make matters worse, yet having to remove her from the rocky burial mound that had blossomed above her still body.

Gradually he uncovered her, his blood mixing with the sticky earth, unheeded as his fingers poured gore.

Shera's tiny body reminded him of nothing less than a smashed doll.  Arms and legs looked broken from their unnatural angle.  Her torso seemed crushed, flattened by the massive rock fall.  That she was still breathing was a miracle.  He dare not move her that much was obvious.  She was going to die here he realised.  Anger filled him, at himself for suggesting this in the first place, at the futility of her death.  He would have to return with an empty hand, and an empty heart.

The smallest of whimpers reached him, she was returning to consciousness.  He moved to her head again, lying down beside her until they were face to face.

"Don't try to move, Shera."

"Can't," she breathed softly.  "Marcus?"

He touched her face gently.  "Yes?"

"Why doesn't it hurt?" Her voice was confused, shocked.  Somewhere in her brain she knew she was badly hurt, knew that she should be in pain.  He swallowed hard recognising that her spinal column must be damaged.

"Just lay still, Shera.  I'll get you out of this, don't worry."

She drifted into unconsciousness again leaving him to sit in the semi-darkness waiting for the inevitable.  He checked the energy level on his torch, another two hours at the most.  Another tremor shook the tunnel and he crouched protectively over Shera's crushed body.  Just a few more rocks slid down on them, it seemed the worst was over.

"Marcus!" The panicked voice pulled him from his reverie.  Conscious again, and this time more alert, Shera was all too aware of her situation.

His hand covered hers, squeezing gently.

"I can't feel you, Gods, Marcus . . ."

His hand moved to her cheek, brushing away the tears that streamed from her reddened eyes.  She gasped, "Your hands are cold!"

"Sorry," he said, blowing on them before returning his fingers to her cheek.

There seemed nothing he could say.  Shera slipped in and out of her coma-like state, sometimes lucid, sometimes seemingly unaware of her situation.  Another fifteen minutes and there would no light left; yet he was not going to leave her here to die alone in the dark.

"What are you going to give up for the Na'Fak'Cha?" Her question came out of the blue; he had thought her still unconscious.

"I don't know.  I don't really have anything that means a lot to me.  I got off my planet with the clothes I stood up in, or rather what was left of them.  I have no material goods, there is nothing for me to give up.'"

Now that she was awake and talking he wanted her to know he was there.  He continued, "I always wondered about the ceremony anyway.  Who wants to ponder on what has gone before?  I live with that every single day, I don't need a ceremony to relive my past."

"That is not the point of the Rebirth Ceremony."  Her breath shuddered and his heart beat uncomfortably, but she continued.  "I wanted that release.  To let go of the past, to start again, that is the whole reason for the Na'Fak'Cha.  I would have been reborn, a Ranger."  Her voice trailed off again for a few minutes.

"Marcus?"

"I'm here."

"I know it's not the right day but I am not going to make it back to Minbar.  I need you to do something for me."  Her voice was now the merest whisper.

"Anything," his eyes stung with held back tears, the lump in his throat threatening to stifle what voice he had.

"My ring.  It was my mother's.  The last thing I had of hers.  The meditation pool, drop it in its depths for me."

"I promise."  Sensitive fingers stroked her cheek, the only place she had any feeling.

"My secret . . ." she went silent and he thought she was gone, yet life still fluttered tenaciously in her.  "I'm in love with Sinclair."  The dry chuckle rattled into a soft sigh, not to be repeated.

Continued

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