# Babylon 5 and its characters and their words were created by J. Michael Straczynski, and belong to Joe and Warner Bros., and are used without permission. The rest belongs to Cathy Faye Rudolph.)

# The story takes place at the beginning of Season 3: January, 2260.

"I know who assaulted the Ami'Kri Ambassador."

Her words, delivered with clarity and subtle strength, caught Michael Garibaldi by surprise. More than four hours into the farce Sheridan had authorized, Garibaldi had expected the response he'd gotten from every other poor soul caught up in the sweep of DownBelow. Eyes clouded with despair, every breath labored and rattling--those were the hallmarks of hopeless souls for whom haute couture was a tattered EarthForce issue blanket from the Earth-Minbari War. Poverty and desperation never went out of fashion, and the litany "I didn't see anything," was timeless, expected.

Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, anyway.

Garibaldi considered for a moment whether this woman could be the Ambassador's assailant, then rejected the possibility. Hell, nothing about this situation made any sense. Ami'Kri-En was a tiny jerkwater planet in the shoals of Vree space. The undistinguished lump of rock couldn't attract commerce or tourist trade if it tried. Ami'Kri lacked planetary wealth--the royal transport of the Exalted One of the Ami'Kri Ascendancy was a badly refurbished Drazi freighter. What they did have was attitude, lots and lots of attitude. The Ami'Kri could teach the Centauri a thing or two about looking down their noses...assuming the Ami'Kri had noses inside their environment suits to look down. Yet, with so little known about them or their social structure and conventions, the Ami'Kri representative was here on Babylon 5 with full ambassadorial status and retinue.

Sheridan *had to be* under direct orders from EarthGov to coddle the Ami'Kri. That was the only reason Sheridan would have capitulated to the Ami'Kri demands following the attack on their Ambassador. Garibaldi had at first assumed the Captain's directives were window dressing to placate the Ami'Kri, until Sheridan's voice over the link had decreed otherwise.

"As a matter of fact, Mr. Garibaldi, I do expect you to bring in all potential witnesses from the scene. They will be questioned thoroughly and released only when you are sure that they have no complicity in this matter."

"Look, Captain, we're not talking about some isolated corridor. The Ami'Kri are demanding mass arrests and interrogations in a three-deck area over a fifth of DownBelow. I haven't got enough cells to hold that many people--hell, Captain, I haven't even got the budget to cover an operation a quarter that size. This action will violate rights guaranteed in half a dozen treaties with the aligned and non-aligned worlds. We'll be up to our asses in legal alligators for years."

"Mr. Garibaldi, you have my authorization to lock down the entire area due to concerns about structural integrity of the station. Engineers will examine each section for metal fatigue as you 'evacuate' the residents for questioning. I'm sure the engineers will have completed their surveys of each section by the time you've finished interviewing the residents."

"I see. And who's paying for this fairy tale, _Sir_?"

"Frankly, Mr. Garibaldi, I don't care whether you charge the effort to the Vorlon Benevolent Fund or the Minbari Fashion Designers' Trade Group. The official line is that there has been a formal ambassadorial inquiry concerning the construction and maintenance of the station. You will log the expense appropriately."

"Captain, may I ask why EarthGov is so interested in the Ami'Kri?"

"Mr. Garibaldi, with all due respect to your instincts as Security Chief, I must remind you that you have your orders. I don't have to be a mind reader to know that you'd probably start digging to turn up information through your sources, but this time I don't want any extracurricular exploration. Do we understand each other, Mr. Garibaldi?"

Oh yeah, he understood Sheridan. The crappy cover story about structural fatigue *had* come from EarthGov. And "mind reader" and "exploration" were Sheridan's code phrases for PsiCorps and IPX. The thought of the two groups working together turned Garibaldi's stomach.

The lockdown had started at noon. One hundred lurkers were herded to the turbo tubes and into Security holding cells while the engineers remained behind ostensibly to scan the walls and supports for signs of structural failure. The lurkers were interviewed one at a time and then escorted to a makeshift clinic where they received medical treatment and a hot meal, courtesy of the Earth and Ami'Kri Ambassadors to Babylon 5.

Or so the expense report would say, thought Garibaldi with no small satisfaction. EarthGov might object to the costs, but they'd pay up quietly rather than risk drawing attention to their courtship of the Ami'Kri. PsiCorps and IPX would see to that. All in all, it was a neat little scam, the sort of end run that would have amused Jeff.

The thought clutched at his heart. Damn but he missed Jeff.

"I know who assaulted the Ami'Kri ambassador."

The background conversations had ground to a halt, leaving only the pulse of the electronics in the office. Garibaldi shifted forward in his chair, wary of the contradiction seated across from him. Piercing eyes of gray returned his stare without hostility or resentment from behind a shower of black hair curtaining her face. She did not cringe or waver under his scrutiny. In her hands she cradled a small wrapped bundle, her slender fingers arranged protectively but not possessively over and under the folds of fabric. The ragged blanket she used to ward away the cold had fallen from her shoulders, revealing a gathered robe of gray and brown. A trick of the light, perhaps, but...there almost seemed to be writing or symbols hidden in the pattern of stitches and razor-thin ink strokes flowing over the cloth.

It didn't add up. The only thing that marked her as a lurker was her possession of the scratchy remains of a threadbare service blanket. Her bearing and self-possession were not what he expected from those whom circumstance had condemned to Downbelow. In the last four hours he had seen ninety-nine of the lost and downtrodden, defeat etched in their faces. Hers was the only face that had shone with quiet hope.

Zack offered her water, which she accepted gratefully. When she brushed her hair back from her face, Garibaldi noted the dangling talent braid and the Dru-zar runes painted on her forehead, just above her left eye. It was rare to see the markings of a Drazi seer.

He'd never heard of them being worn by a human female.

Garibaldi cleared his throat and Zack took that as his cue to make himself scarce. Garibaldi skimmed the text display. No identicard swipe, but that was hardly surprising--most of the lurkers hadn't been carrying their IDs at the time of the sweep.

"We appreciate your cooperation in this matter, Miss...?" Garibaldi let the question trail off into expectant silence.

She set the empty water cup on the desk and returned her hand to shielding the small parcel in her lap.

"My name is Fortuna." The glass beads on her talent braid showered a rainbow of light across her face as she nodded her head in greeting. "And your name is?"

She'd quite neatly turned the tables on him, and rather than being annoyed it suddenly struck him as funny. Garibaldi tried to keep the grin off his face. "I'm Michael Garibaldi, Chief of Security for Babylon 5. I apologize for your having to wait so long to be interviewed. I guess it's the luck of the draw. Someone has to be last."

Fortuna shook another rainbow into the air. "No, Mr. Garibaldi. I chose to be last. Waiting four hours was a small price to pay for treatment and food for the other lurkers. After all, once you have your information, what is your incentive to offer those services to the lurkers?" Her tone was matter-of-fact and unashamed.

Time to deal, he thought. "I'm sure your information has a price. What is it? Passage back to Earth and enough credits to make you comfortable?"

"No. We need longer free clinic hours in DownBelow. We need materials so that we can build proper sleeping areas. And mobile kitchens so we can take nourishment to those most in need."

Shame crawled over his skin. He'd misjudged her badly. She was merely asking for the bare essentials that would make life a little more tolerable in DownBelow. That haunted feeling passed over him again, an echo of his relationship with Jeffrey Sinclair. Jeff had always dealt fairly and honestly in his negotiations, preferring to give someone the benefit of the doubt. Mars, Garibaldi reminded himself, was not ancient history. Jeff had given him a chance when everyone else had written him off as a hopeless drunk.

Jeff wouldn't have lied to her. Garibaldi realized that he couldn't lie to her either.

"I can't promise," Garibaldi finally admitted. "I'll do what I can, but Captain Sheridan has the final say."

She smiled gently, and her nod of assent was strangely comforting. "Your word is sufficient."

Was it just him, or had the mood gotten warm and fuzzy all of the sudden? Garibaldi shook his head to clear away the cobwebs.

"You said you know who assaulted the Ami'Kri Ambassador. The Ami'Kri were able to tell us only that the attacker was human. I need a name, something we can match with station records. If necessary, Mr. Allan will help you assemble a composite picture of the attacker."

Her eyes flashed steel, then back to their watery gray. "I can't do that."

"Miss Fortuna, if you are concerned about your personal safety--"

"It is not a matter of safeguarding my person, Mr. Garibaldi. I am trying to tell you that the assailant was not human. The Ambassador was attacked by one of her assistants, and unless I am very much mistaken, the Ambassador is dead."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Garibaldi felt exasperation beginning to knot his shoulder muscles. "The Ambassador isn't dead. I spoke to him--her, whatever--over BabCom five hours ago."

Fortuna sat quietly, fingering the loose ends of fabric around the small bundle. "And how, Mr. Garibaldi," she murmured from behind the obscuring curtain of raven hair, "how did you know she was the Ambassador?" She tilted her head, her hair parting of its own accord to reveal her face again. "The Ami'Kri environment suits are all identical, except for the ambassadorial insignia."

The implications weren't lost on Garibaldi, but the motive still eluded him. "So we've been set up. The Ami'Kri tried to murder their own Ambassador and blamed the attempt on a human attacker. Why?"

Fortuna brought her hand up quickly, lightly, brushing her hair back. "Ami'Kri is a matriarchy in which power is maintained through entitlements and assassinations. The attack in DownBelow was an attempt by the Ami'Kri assailant to rise in the hierarchy. When it wasn't completely successful, the Ami'Kri carried their unconscious Ambassador back to Green Sector. She was almost certainly dead by the time the Ami'Kri returned to their quarters. So why cast blame upon humans? Leverage, Mr. Garibaldi. The allegation is merely a bargaining chip in their negotiations with the Earth government. The Ami'Kri view their own culture as morally superior to those of the other races, and they would have no compunction about manipulating the Earth Government or your Captain with this lie."

There were times he really hated this job--this was one of those times.

"I'll have to tell the Captain about this." Garibaldi rose from his chair with a sigh. "Without a SecureCam record, we don't have enough evidence to justify a warrant to search the Ami'Kri quarters. It will be your word...our word against that of the Ami'Kri." As Garibaldi moved toward the door, Fortuna rose and blocked his way. She stood on tiptoe to whisper at his ear.

"Which is more important, the letter or the spirit of the law?"

Her fingertip at her lips forestalled his questions. Fortuna set her bundle on the desk, and took up the stylus. She flipped the nearest report flimsy, poising the stylus tip just millimeters from the surface.

"Mr. Garibaldi, can you speak Drazi?" Her hair spilled across her shoulder as she looked back at him.

Garibaldi chuckled to himself. Not only was she smart and spunky, she could multitask, too. "Some. Enough not to get stuck with the bar tab. Why?"

Fortuna turned her attention back to the flimsy, and after half a minute of thought, wrote a single sentence in Drazi. She handled him the sheet.

"Can you read that?"

Garibaldi glanced over the Drazi words, inscribed by Fortuna's careful and precise hand. "Yes, but I don't understand--"

"You will." Garibaldi bent to catch her hushed words. "Call the Ami'Kri suite. Ask to speak with the Ambassador; say that it is a matter of honor. When the 'Ambassador' comes to the comm unit, say these words--these exact words, no more, no less--to the Ambassador."

There seemed to be considerable reluctance on the part of the Ami'Kri to let Garibaldi speak with the Ambassador. Finally, an envirosuit emblazoned with the Ami'Kri ambassadorial insignia appeared at the screen. With a last glance at the flimsy, Garibaldi carefully recited the sentence Fortuna had written.

The screen snapped at once to the familiar BabCom logo. The Ami'Kri had killed the connection.

Garibaldi stared at the comm unit for several moments. "Did I just start an interstellar war? Captain Sheridan *will* want to know."

Her trickle of laughter was a relief. "No, you did not start a war, and I suspect you will be hearing from your Captain soon."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Garibaldi confided. "What did I say?"

"The Ami'Kri use Vree or Drazi to communicate with outsiders rather than disclose their own language to aliens. As for what you said, the closest meaning in Standard would be 'We have witnessed an accession by air.' I cannot tell you how I came by the knowledge, but when an Ami'Kri of title or rank is deposed by assassination, the Ami'Kri refer to it as 'accession by air.'"

A slow smile came to Garibaldi. "So we just told them we know exactly what happened."

This time her eyes held the full light of her laughter. "Yes, Mr. Garibaldi, 'we' did."

Garibaldi laid the flimsy on the desk and picked up Fortuna's small bundle in his hand, hefting it to judge its weight. "Drazi prophecy stones?" he asked.

Her expression was one of shock as she snatched the wrapped parcel from his hand. "Of course not. The -zarl'n stones are sacred, handed down through generations of clutch and guild. As an offworlder I was permitted only to interpret the -zarl'n." Fortuna paused, and took a calming breath. "I'm sorry. It's just that having -zarl'n would be an unforgivable violation of Drazi trust. No, these...are my cards. I use them to answer questions."

She motioned for him to be seated, then began to unwrap the fabric from around the parcel. By the time Fortuna was finished, the subtly sparkling fabric covered the desktop. The center of the illusion of space was the stack of cards, their backs emblazoned with twin spiral suns. She cut and then shuffled the deck, the spiral suns creating a super nova of colors between her fingers.

"Here." Fortuna placed the deck into his hands. "We are, each of us, stories, the dreams the Universe creates to answer the Great Questions. We *are* the Universe, fragmented and searching. Because we are unknowing parts of the whole, we in our turn ask questions and seek to find answers in the stories of our lives. The cards you hold in your hands have the potential to reach within the Universe's dream and follow the thread of a single life's story, forward or back. We need only look at our own stories to find the answers to our questions. We need only *ask*." She closed his fingers around the deck and regarded him solemnly. "What is your question, Mr. Garibaldi?"

She hadn't spoken to him like some common mark. Her pitch was so understated that it wouldn't even qualify as a soft sell. Instead, he thought he detected a note of obvious pleading in Fortuna's voice. The reason hit him like the booster kick of a Thunderbolt: it was an 'out' for him. Sure, if anyone asked later, he could smile indulgently and say that he'd simply been humoring her.

No. To Hell with what anyone else thought. A lot of what she'd talked about was too touchy-feely for him--sounded too much like God sitting around a campfire swapping ghost stories with the First Ones. But this woman was smart, savvy, and honest, and he owed it to her to be truthful in return.

His voice trembled as he spoke in a whisper that question that would not leave his soul in peace.

"How can I see him again?"

He hadn't said Jeff's name, but that apparently didn't matter to Fortuna. She indicated that he should cut the cards, taking them back after he had done so. Perched on the edge of her chair, the stack of twin suns balanced neatly in one hand, Fortuna placed one card on the black fabric, then a second next to it. Next four cards encircled the two at the center, and finally a line of four cards off to one side of the circle. Fortuna set the deck aside, and pointed to the first card in the center of the circle.

"This one will tell us the heart of your question and the present circumstances." She turned the card face up, to reveal a solemn-eyed woman against a backdrop of velvet space, all under the title "The Judgment."

"The heart of the matter is a decision that has been made. It is a decision that has led to or will bring a change in awareness, akin to a rebirth."

Fortuna pointed to the other card inside the circle, still face down. "This is the obstacle in the matter, or perhaps the pivot point for change."

She turned the card over to reveal an image of The Sun raining light and lifeblood down upon a solitary figure. Fortuna frowned slightly as she set the card across The Judgment card to form a cross.

"You are the obstacle." Her glance was apologetic. "You did not participate in the decision that was made, you were not consulted. And yet, the decision that was made depended upon your possession of the qualities the card speaks of--a shielded happiness, a self-reliance, strength. There was recognition that you would weather the decision."

Her fingertips strayed to the card at the bottom of the circle. "This card will tell us of how this matter came to be, the cause of the matter."

The Star over the intense young woman's head belied the card's name.

"Humility. Love. Wisdom. Realization. The acceptance of a path, a calling. This..." She hesitated, seeing the recognition in his eyes. "This is someone close to you."

Fortuna moved her hand to the next card in the circle. "This card represents the past, the circumstances that you are leaving behind." The revealed card bore the title Happiness over an image of nine chalices embossed onto gaily painted banners and lushly-textured hearts.

"In the past there was pleasure, contentment, the joy of love in both physical and spiritual ways. Two together as one." The last word was propelled with a sigh tinged with regret.

She reached toward the card at the top of the circle. "Just as the card at the bottom of the circle represents the root cause of your question, this card speaks about your conscious desire, the nature of the outcome you wish for."

There was no mistaking the image on the card. The Moon, amber ripe in a soft sky, reflected a faint light upon a pale dreamer.

"Illusion and the bewitchment of dreams." Her next words were hushed. "Moonlight can deceive us and entice us with a fantasy of contentment."

She turned over the last card in the circle, the card representing the future. The word Swiftness was etched over two faces with glowing eyes, floating over eight staffs displayed straight and tall.

"There is an end approaching. You will receive news in the midst of swiftly changing circumstances."

Only the tower of four cards remained unshown. Fortuna turned them one at a time.

"This one, the 2 of Cups, signifies attraction and connection. You see yourself as connected and attracted to someone. The Other's view is shown by this card above it, the Ace of Cups. Great love is felt toward you, devotion and a strong sense of intimacy." Her gray eyes smiled at him. "The love you feel is mutual."

Only two cards remained. "This card represents that which you fear or hope for. The 6 of Cups recalls memories of past love. It whispers of lust and romantic delight. It yearns for the innocence of contentment."

Fortuna's fingers brushed the edge of the final card, then grasped the corner to turn the card and reveal the image. "This last card tells the outcome of your question." Garibaldi stared for a moment at the card's picture, that of the Universe personified, a woman clothed in stars, reigning over the firmament with unearthly majesty.

The chirp of his link tore Garibaldi's attention away from the cards.

"Garibaldi here."

"I want you in my office. Now." Fortuna looked up from the cards in time to see Garibaldi's 'here it comes' look.

"Any particular reason, Captain?"

"Yes, Mr. Garibaldi. The Ami'Kri Ambassador just contacted me and said that they consider the matter completely closed...in light of the information you provided." Sheridan's voice was full of wry amusement. "Is there *something* you'd like to tell me, Mr. Garibaldi?"

"It's an amazing coincidence, Sir--I was *just* on my way to fill you in."

"I'm sure you were, Mr. Garibaldi."

No time like the present, Garibaldi thought as he decided to take the chance.

"Sir, I'd also like to discuss the conditions in DownBelow with you. It's a security problem when we have people going down there to get their moral superiority jollies." The look on Fortuna's face told Garibaldi that he'd gotten it in one.

"Agreed, Mr. Garibaldi. See you in five. And Michael?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Well done."

Garibaldi snapped his fingers to get Zack's attention, then sailed a spare data crystal through the air toward him. "I need the DownBelow stats five minutes ago. Better include the Ami'Kri information too."

She was studying the cards, lost in thought. Garibaldi tapped the last card lightly, sending shivers out through the black fabric beneath it.

"It wasn't just moral superiority, was it? The Ami'Kri were down there to see you."

For one moment Fortuna held him with her gaze, then her head turned down and the raven curtain fell forward to cover her face again.

"Mr. Garibaldi, what I know did not come from any professional confidences. It was more a matter of remembering what a great Earth philosopher once said."

"And that was?"

"'You can observe a lot just by watching.'"

Zack hustled over with the data crystal, and Garibaldi bounced the crystal in his hand before clenching his fist tightly around it. His "I'll do my damnedest to sell Sheridan on the improvements" elicited a grateful smile from Fortuna. Garibaldi paused, already halfway through the door, then turned.

"That last one..." he looked past her to the cards still spread on the desk, "the one called 'The World'...it means something good, doesn't it?"

She was looking at the cards too. Garibaldi couldn't see her face, but he heard her response.

"Yes. It means fulfillment, in some measure the culmination of a great journey."

Fortuna listened as Garibaldi's footsteps grew faint with distance. There had been no time to interpret the reading for him and Garibaldi had left with some confidence that things would work out for him and his unnamed friend.

Fortuna had no such confidence.

The spread was rife with powerful influences, with the most potent being the last card. What she had told Garibaldi was true, the traditional interpretation of the twenty-first card *was* fulfillment. But this time the card spoke to her of rebirth and transformation, a climactic event that would come on the heels of a few last words, news coming by way of a final message.

The opportunity for happiness was past. Garibaldi's hopes for the future were so many insubstantial dreams in moonlight. Change was coming, change of such a nature and power--

-- but she'd worn out her welcome, that much was plain from the way a peripherally fidgeting Zack Allan was working up the courage to ask her to leave. Fortuna picked up the remainder of the deck, curling her fingers around the cards as her attention was drawn back to three cards in the Circled Cross.

Star. Sun. Moon. Three cards of light. Fortuna shook her head in frustration. There was a meaning there, the number three associated with the symbolism of past, present, and future. There was a meaning there...but not one that she could tap for humans.

If only this had been a reading for a Minbari, she sighed. The meaning would have been so much clearer, the symbolism much more appropriate. Fortuna put the cards neatly on the top of the stack, resolving to remember the spread and witness how events unfolded. There was an incredible amount of power building, as indicated by the presence of *five* major arcana cards. She hadn't seen that many major cards in a single reading in, how long?

The black cloth was once more wrapped about the cards, and the bundle safely cradled in her hands, before the answer came to her--

--she had not seen that many since the reading she'd done for that Ambassador.

The one in the encounter suit.

The Vorlon.

---

# Author's Notes: My thanks to Carolyn for her thoughtful beta of this story. This story is written around the actual reading I did for third season Michael. The reading employed the Rohrig Tarot cards and a Celtic Cross spread.

# Author's Addendum: What's with the weird title? It's the first two lines of lyrics from Carl Orff's "Carmina Burana."