Chapter 3: Wednesday

Delenn sat behind her waist high crystal desk, the pink and yellow of the crystal swirling together giving off the most brilliant shine, made even more glorious when she opened the window blinds, letting in the late winter rays.

She was happy to be home, relished being among members of her clan she hadn't seen since she'd ended the civil war and reformed the Grey Council. Those were dark days for her and the people of Minbar, a darkness she hoped would never return.

Delenn looked down at a pile of requests, applications for the Anla'shok. She would have to go through each carefully, first dividing them into member nations, then weaning out the ones who didn't meet the basic requirements, then scheduling appointments with a Minbari physician for a psychological exam, and then . . . Well, the list went on and on, Delenn's mind not as focused as she would like.

No, her thoughts drifted to the last two days and John's insistence on sharing spring with her despite the fact that it wasn't spring at all. Delenn adored spring, the transition of the universe, reminding its inhabitants that out of the cold and dark, life still exist. Yet she hadn't experienced the change in seasons in five long years, a space station not conducive to such natural phenomenon, the artificial reality warping the senses, the mind.

But her husband was determined to have his early spring. Delenn couldn't help but smile, recalling the explosion of clothes, crystals, books, and other miscellaneous items he'd pulled out of their boxes, dropped onto the floor, all in an effort to perform a ritual of spring cleaning.

"You may have your spring cleaning, John," she had said to him, "but this ritual of yours must be performed by the household staff."

"Delenn, this is our home, I don't have a problem cleaning up after myself. In fact, I've been looking forward to arranging things. I haven't had a real home in far too long. I can finally unpack everything, knowing this residence is permanent, and not some short-term assignment like on the Aggie or Babylon 5."

Delenn understood the importance of permanence and security, and knew John, like herself, had been without it for many years. Yet . . .

"John," she'd said, hoping to provide a bit of cultural clarity, "you've dismissed the staff for the week. And while I know you prefer to do things yourself, like cooking, even though you aren't . . . well, particularly adept in the kitchen, you are not of the worker caste."

"I'm of no caste, Delenn."

"That is correct, but I am, and so are the house staff. I know you didn't mean to, but in dismissing them for the week and choosing to spring clean, you have dishonored them."

He gave her a puzzled look, the same one Delenn was sure was plastered on her face when she'd arrived home to find most of their belongings on the living room floor, her husband standing in the middle as if he was King of Chaos.

She laced her fingers through his. "By opting to perform a task relegated to the worker caste, you inadvertently implied that they lacked the requisite skills to complete the assignment to your satisfaction. I know that wasn't your intention, but they will . . . have interpreted your action that way all the same."

Delenn hushed him when he made to apologize. He needn't apologize, it was an honest mistake borne of cultural differences. She'd made enough of them on Babylon 5 to know how easily one can fall into such an innocent cultural trap.

"I will speak with them, make them understand."

"That your human mate is a cultural idiot."

"Not an idiot, John, just very, very sweet." She kissed his cheek then. "I like the idea of an early spring. I like the idea of you thinking of Minbar and this house as your home even more. It pleases me you want to take a more direct role in making this house a home for your family."

John returned the kiss, his lips warm and all too tempting. He whispered, "I've already planted one seed, now I'll like to plant a few more, watch them take root, and grow."

Delenn now pondered his words. What seed had he already planted? There were numerous fully grown trees on the grounds, none of which John planted himself. Had he planted a sapling she hadn't yet seen? Delenn doubted John would've had time to do so, or even knew how.

She leaned her head against the back of her soft swivel chair, closing her eyes. The inner workings of a human's mind baffled her sometimes. And John's mind was full of undecipherable things like the planting of seeds, which made little sense to Delenn.

Delenn sighed, decreasing the cadence of her breathing to slow, shallow breaths. Thinking about John and his two days of relentless spring cleaning, arms and legs sweaty and bare as he slid, lifted, and pulled furniture, pictures, clothing, and books, placing them exactly where he wanted them—on shelves, in bedrooms, on walls, made Delenn ache.

Valen help her, the pin'cha hormone would be the death of her. At first, she didn't think it had developed. The first two months of her pregnancy had yielded no increase in her sexual appetite, a sign of Minbari pregnancy. Delenn's desire had been normal, no fluctuation at the beginning of the cycle, noting the early stage of pin'cha.

And so the news of her pregnancy had been a shock not simply because she and John didn't think, even with her partly human body, that they were compatible enough to produce a child. But the hormone had also been absent. Delenn slowed her breathing even more, her body fighting the mind, demanding release.

Delenn abruptly stood. It was no good, the hormone too strong. Valen how she wanted John, the hormone slow to form in her transformed body, but once she'd entered her third month, it blossomed like the tree John keeps referring to. And if John had been Minbari, they wouldn't have had to abstain from sex, the primal release of the hormonal fluid during copulation important to the bonding process between father and child. And it increased the spiritual bond between mates, drawing their souls even closer, merging the two into one irrevocable link.

Yet they had yet to share this wondrous experience as a mated couple, John's human DNA vulnerable to the pin'cha, the vaccination necessary for his protection. But oh how Delenn yearned for him, his soft, wet tongue suckling at her nipples, while she pulsed wantonly around the long, hard length of him, moaning and grinding her hips closer to his with each deep lunge—''

A soft wrap on her office door made Delenn jump, as if she'd been actually caught in that most compromising of positions.

"Enter," Delenn said, her voice unsteady, body still tingling from her sexual daydream. Valen, Delenn didn't think she could last another day without the release her body burned for, the pregnancy hormone a sheen of sensual rose petals over her neglected body.

The heavy metal door opened, followed by three women, pale and slight of frame like most Minbari females. They bowed deeply, in deference to Delenn's status and their youth. And they were young, Delenn mused, carefully perusing each one in turn.

The woman to Delenn's furthest left was dressed in a simple, all-white robe, the same all religious caste acolytes wore, Delenn no exception.

The middle woman's robes were brown and white. A simple triangular design decorated the crossover tunic marking her of the worker caste.

Finally, the young woman to Delenn's right was the only one of the three whose shoulders was firm, erect. Eyes fixed to the ground like the others, her head was not bowed, her warrior pride too great to supplicate herself more than necessary. Black tunic with equally black bottoms further distinguished her from the others.

Delenn walked until she was standing in front of the three young women who had yet to meet her eyes.

"How may I help you?" Delenn asked.

"It is us who are here to help you," the religious caste woman responded.

"We have been sent to serve, and serve we will—"

"With honor," the warrior caste woman interjected, seeming to complete the thought of the worker caste woman who nodded her assent.

Delenn surveyed the young women again, recognizing them although they had yet to introduce themselves officially. Propriety dictated they wait until directed to do so. They would not speak unless directly asked, and Delenn, having spent years away from home and among differing cultural groups, now found some Minbari customs a bit archaic, if not downright stifling.

"Please, tell me who I have the pleasure of hosting this afternoon."

Delenn stood in front of the warrior caste woman, giving her the honor of going first, her obvious strength of character shining through despite her youth. She was respectful but not cowed by Delenn's clear authority over her. That was good.

The young woman spoke, voice brimming with clan pride when she said, "I'm Rasheel of the Fire Wings clan, daughter of Satai Mazetsch."

Delenn nodded and moved to her left, placing herself in front of the worker caste Minbari, the tunic that was simple in design but exquisite in form, perfectly tailored. This one, Delenn thought, had an eye for detail, taking care with her work, quality more important than quantity.

"And you?"

The young woman's lips trembled just a bit before she spoke, but her voice was also strong, and she spoke clearly, never wavering. "I'm Waliri of the worker caste, daughter of Satai Durlan."

Pleased, Delenn took her place in front of the third and last woman, the one who looked as if she would scurry away, seeking a hole into which to hide if Delenn showed any sign of displeasure.

Delenn made her voice as soft and non-threatening as she could and placed a supporting hand on the young woman's shoulder.

"And you?"

The tremor that ran through the girl started at their point of contact, and Delenn guessed continued down to her pretty, white slippers. With effort, the girl stilled her shaking limbs, and didn't recoil from Delenn's touch. And Delenn smiled at this one, too. She had courage. And when she finally spoke, there wasn't even the slightest trace of nerves, no, nothing but an indomitable resolution to conquer her fear.

"I'm Bamer of the Eighth Fane of Tredomo, niece of Satai Bhurlee."

Delenn stepped back, eyeing the women with respect, and wondered if she'd carried herself with such poise and grace at that age.

"Is there something the Grey Council wishes of me? Is that why you are here?" Delenn asked, for she could imagine no other reason why three Minbari from such notable clans would be standing before her now.

"No, Entilzha Delenn," Rasheel promptly responded. "We are here at the behest of President Sheridan."

Waliri chimed in. "We are to serve as your aides."

"That is if you will honor us with the opportunity to prove our worth," Bamer finished.

Delenn was shocked. John had acquired her not one but three aides. And not just any aides. How in the universe had he managed to convince three members of the Grey Council to approve such an assignment? And when?

Then Delenn felt the embers of anger flare inside. How dare John take it upon himself to replace Lennier. He had no right to interfere. It was her decision to make, and she wasn't prepared to make it just yet. And just as her hormones raged, the rational side of her doused the snapping flames. Bamer's words calming the emotional beast. "President Sheridan said this would be a wonderful opportunity for you to plant a few seeds of your own, watch them take shape, blossom, and then release them back to the universe."

Delenn closed her eyes, extinguished a cleansing breath, and expelled the last of her fury. Valen, she really couldn't go on like this, the longer the pin'cha built within without a release, the more irritable and crazed she would become.

Delenn opened her eyes and said in a soft but firm tone, "I cannot have aides that will not look up. You will forever be walking into things."

And they looked up, the first seed planted.