Captain John Sheridan felt guilty as he rifled his cupboards. He did, however, have a small feeling of triumph as he found what he had been searching for. He set the item down and then retrieved a bottle and set it down. He opened the sleeve and grabbed some of the snack food and stuffed them in his mouth. He chewed thoroughly, feeling the aftertaste clear away bit by bit.
He then grabbed the bottle and drank some. The taste retreated more.
Suddenly, there was a bright light in his quarters which turned into the shape of a man. He didn't call for security, but he was wary. Besides, his people were dealing with the Markab crisis – they didn't have time for something that might not be important on the grand scale of things.
The shape solidified and he saw a young man, looking to be human, glancing around as though trying to figure out his location. The man finally looked at him and said, "Captain Sheridan?"
"You know me?"
The man chuckled. "Other versions of you – different times, different universes. I've helped you out a fair few times."
Intriqued, Sheridan asked, "Who are you?"
The man stood straighter. "Harry Potter, Lone Traveler." He tapped his heels together a mini military type fashion and then relaxed again. Looking curious he asked, "What are you eating?"
"Crackers and soda water." The Captain's face showed his aggrieved look.
"If I may be so curious: Why?"
Captain Sheridan chewed another cracker, swallowed, and then asked, "Have you ever had flarn?"
The man looked confused. "Flarn? Never heard of it."
Sheridan nodded. "It's a Minbari food. There's a whole ritual thing involved with cooking it. Takes days to do properly. It has to be completed properly at every step. Ambassador Delenn served it tonight. Unfortunately, it has the consistency of slightly overcooked okra and the mild bitterness of broccoli without the earthy tones. With all the crap going on which I should be concentrating on, I finally broke down and had to clean the taste out of my mouth."
His visitor chuckled. "Minbari are always interesting – their views are so … stratified. It sounds like this flarn could be improved if cooked in wine."
Sheridan sighed. "Two problems: It's cooked by ritual which can't be changed, and Minbari can't consume alcohol – it has extreme effects on their physiology."
The man shrugged. "If it's cooked long enough, the alcohol will be minimized. I'm sure there is a safe level. I would guess three hours; three hours and the alcohol is evaporated and leaves just the taste." Suddenly the man got an odd look on his face.
John Sheridan watched in fascination as the man looked up toward the ceiling in irritation. "Cooking advice? Cooking advice? Whoever the hell you are, you have a damned odd sense of humor. All of the power of a God, you send me from Universe to Universe to help out and you send me here to give COOKING ADVICE?"
Sheridan asked. "Is there a problem?"
The man looked at him and said, "Apparently I was dropped here to give you cooking advice. Do with it what you will. Good luck with the flarn." The man turned around and started walking – still muttering under his breath. His form compressed down to a small ball of light and music drifted about. The light disappeared, leaving just the song to fade out.
Although it was a beautiful sound, there was a note of … irritation somehow present.
John Sheridan contemplated what he had just experienced. He ate another cracker and had another sip of tonic water and then stood up and moved to the computer panel to make a call.
Lennier's face appeared on the monitor. "Yes? Captain Sheridan! Is there something I can help you with or do you need to speak to Ambassador Delenn?"
"Actually, I called to speak to you. Do you have some time to come to my quarters and answer a few questions?"
Looking curious, the Minbari attaché replied, "Certainly. I will be there in twenty minutes."
"Thank you. I will see you soon."
Twenty minutes later, the door chimed. "Open!" Sheridan called.
Lennier entered the Captains quarters and gave his traditional Minbari bow. "I'm here. You have questions?"
The Captain nodded his head respectfully and said, "Yes. Please have a seat. Do you want water or juice as refreshment?"
Lennier paused. "It is a ritual to offer refreshment?"
Sheridan nodded thoughtfully. "In a way. It's an Earth custom to offer a drink to an invited guest. Among humans, it's often alcoholic, but that would be inappropriate for you. We try to offer something a guest would enjoy."
Lennier nodded. "Than I shall accept whatever you might give me."
Sheridan nodded. He took two glasses and poured it halfway with soda water. He then filled the rest with reconstituted orange juice and then stirred. He brought these to the table and offered one to Lennier, who accepted it, and then sat down.
Lennier sipped his drink and then considered it. "Mildly acidic, as well as sweet. The texture is quite different. It is refreshing. Thank you."
Sheridan smiled. "It's carbonated water and orange juice. It would be better fresh – but we're a bit far from home to get that. I'm glad you like it."
He sipped his own drink and set it down. "I wanted to ask a few questions about the meal we just had. Is that alright?"
"Certainly."
"Delenn said it was called flarn. Is there a reason it is used in ceremonies?"
Lennier sat back and took on his "teacher tone". "It is said that it was created by Valen himself, specifically for the ritual of greeting and welcoming a guest. The instructions for making it as well as its preparation have been handed down for a thousand years."
"I see. So it's never served casually or just to enjoy?"
"No. Minbari are very traditional and so casually eating it would be … well, it would be cause for being ordered to reflect upon the wisdom of one's elders. Also," Lennier paused here, "also, flarn has a very distinctive taste. It does not lend itself to casual dining."
Sheridan nodded. "I can definitely understand that. Are the directions so precise then?"
Lennier nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes. The directions fill a very long scroll which must be learned by heart and followed precisely. It is several thousand lines. In the full scroll, only one line causes scholars and historians pause in the claim of understanding."
"Oh? What is the line? If it isn't improper to ask."
Lennier dismissed that concern. "No, it isn't. There is one chant that is spoken right before the ritual contemplation begins. The contemplation is three hours of considering the state of one's soul and its place in the universe."
"What is the chant?" the Captain asked curiously.
Lennier was embarrassed. "It doesn't translate well – mostly because its meaning has been a matter of debate. The line is: VINom ANom essAT porFECHa."
"Vinom anom essat porfecha." The Captain looked thoughtful.
Lennier was annoyed – the captain had altered the proper emphasis on the different words. He hid his annoyance as the captain repeated it a few times.
Suddenly the Captain's face took on a distinctive look of understanding and he moved to his terminal. He spent a few minutes typing and then looked at Lennier.
"Might it's supposed to sound like this: Vinum enim esset perfecta?"
The pronunciation was quite strange – but it did seem to match the line from the scroll. "That could be a valid pronunciation."
The Captains face took on a look of triumph. "Well, Lennier, I think I can answer the debate: I know what it means."
Lennier was surprised. "Really?"
"Yes. The words are from an old Earth Language called Latin from two thousand years ago. It has been used for religious and solemn occasions since that time. It means: Wine would be perfect."
Lennier was confused. "Wine? Isn't that an alcoholic drink?"
Still smiling the Captain replied, "Yes – unless you cook it a certain way. On Earth, there are a number of foods that are poisonous unless properly prepared. With wine, you simmer for three hours. Then the alcohol is mostly evaporated, and you are left with the acidity and the taste. Something that I think would be perfect for the flarn."
Lennier thought about it. His youth still allowed him to become excited with different things, and he felt the excitement of something new being found. He mostly suppressed it. "And what wine would be proper?"
At that, Sheridan's face fell. "I don't know." His face changed again, "But I do know who does!" He tapped his link. "Garibaldi!"
The voice of the Head of Security came through the link. "Captain? You need something?"
"Do you have time to see me in my quarters?"
There was a paused. "Is it an emergency? I mean .. I just got off and it's a been a long day …"
"I need you for your expertise."
"In security?"
Sheridan smiled at the watching Minbari, who looked somewhat fascinated. "No. Cooking."
There was another pause and Garibaldi's voice was suddenly far less tired and much more interested. "Yeah, okay. I'll be right there."
Lennier was confused. "Normally when Mr. Garibaldi is tired at the end of a long day, most diplomatic personnel try to avoid him – he can be somewhat confrontational during these circumstances. What convinced him to come now?"
Sheridan laughed. "Passion. Most humans have something they're passionate about. With Garibaldi, the people he came from, usually that's food. Garibaldi loves good food. So talking about cooking isn't a chore for him – it's fun."
Lennier nodded thoughtfully. "I shall have to meditate on that wisdom."
Soon Garibaldi was there and Sheridan asked him, "Michael. You ever cook with wine?"
Garibaldi took on a sheepish smile. "I love it. Haven't done it for a while since I've been on the wagon – but it's definitely something I've missed."
Sheridan waved that off. "You know if you cook it long enough the alcohol is basically gone, at least gone enough to be a factor."
Garibaldi's face lit up. "That's true. Wonder why I never thought about it."
"Worry about that another time. I needed to ask you: There's a food that has a particular taste." Sheridan described the taste of flarn thoroughly. "Now, what wine would you cook that in to make it better?"
Michael took on the challenge with enthusiasm. "Wow. Let me think." He paced for a moment and said, "Don't want anything too dry or too sweet. Too dry and the acid will burn the taste and too sweet it'll be overpowered. I'd go for semi-dry white or red. Probably white." He paused. "I'd also throw in some extra-virgin olive oil."
Sheridan thought for a moment. "Lennier. When cooking flarn, is there any oil that is used, possibly from a pressed fruit?"
Lennier thought about it. "Yes. SheKOta oil is used toward the end of the making."
"Do the scrolls actually name the oil or is it only described?"
Lennier's face took on a look of interest. "As a matter of fact – it is described and not named. Of all the ingredients, there are two that are referred to and thought to mean particular foods, but are not explicitly named: The pressed oil of a fruit and a pickled root which has a particular bite to its taste."
Michael nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Okay that would mean to me olive oil – probably best to use the purest: Extra virgin. And the root …," he thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers, "ginger! Pickled gingerroot does have that bite to it. Helps cleanse the pallet and it gives a certain spiciness to the dish."
Sheridan nodded and turned to Lennier. "If I can get these items, how long would it take to get the rest of the ingredients together? I'd pay for it."
Lennier considered it. "It could be done in a few weeks. But then it would have to be properly prepared."
Sheridan nodded. "Do you think Delenn would allow me to borrow your services? I could validly claim it's to give proper welcome to the Minbari at Babylon 5 and to make up for the failed dinner because of this current crisis. I'm certain there was a welcome ceremony when Babylon 5 came online, but not one your people would recognize. This, they would recognize. And using Earth ingredients when it doesn't violate your scrolls would make it more a Ceremony of Earth welcoming the Minbari."
Lennier nodded. "It would depend on what is happening but I think it can be done. No harm would come from at least gathering the ingredients."
Sheridan nodded with a smile. "Just tell me the cost and I'll cover it." He turned to Michael. "I'll need your expertise to get the right wine, the olive oil, and the ginger. And when we have the ceremony, we'll have the entire command staff welcoming Delenn, Lennier, and any other Minbari that happens to be around, especially any high ranking ones."
Michael nodded happily. This was right in his line. "No problem. Give me a couple weeks." He then paused. "As long as this Markab crisis gets solved."
Sheridan sighed. "Yeah. This is a mess."
Suddenly, as had happened only an hour before, a light grew out of the middle of the room. Garibaldi reached for his weapon even as Lennier retreated. Sheridan put his hand on Michael's arm and shook his head. Curious, Michael let go of his weapon.
Once again, the same man appeared. "Mr. Potter. Back so soon?"
The visitor looked around. "Soon? When was I last here?"
Sheridan chuckled. "An hour ago – you gave me cooking advice."
His visitor's face took on a look of understanding. "Damn. That was hundreds of shifts ago for me." He paused and then asked, "What's the problem now?"
Sheridan sighed. "We have a whole bunch of Markabs coming down with a disease and they are dying left and right."
Harry's eyes grew wide and suddenly he lost all casualness. "You're dealing with a manufactured virus made by a religious nut who wanted to punish Markabs who he thought were 'impure.' You're lucky that this is one incident that I studied quite thoroughly when I visited other universes. If you don't move fast, the entire Markab race will die out in the next few days – every single one of them."
Micheal Garibaldi's eyes grew wide and he said, "Damn!"
Lennier only said, "I will have to inform Delenn."
Sheridan asked, "What do we need to do?"
Harry started pacing around. "First: Tell Franklin what I just told you. Tell him that the Pak'mara are also susceptible. It's the green cells for the Markab and the yellow cells for the Pak'mara. Finding that correlation was what led to the cure – but it was found just a day too late in most universes. It helped to get the green cells in the Markab working and the yellow cells in the Pak'mara. Pretty soon, you're going to have disturbances and people are going to get scared. No other species is really susceptible so you can tell people that it's not dangerous for them. But they can carry it so they should avoid Markab areas so as to avoid killing them. The Markab isolated themselves here – but that only sped up the spread of the disease. With a little time, I can set up the isolation with protections that will prevent the spread of the disease: In my world, our magical hospitals have a protection which prevents diseases from spreading and I know how to make them. I will need 4 large pieces of granite and one small one though. You happen to be able to get me those?"
"Granite?" Harry nodded. "Damn – we're no where near enough to anywhere to get granite. We can't even get it from Epsilon 3 – any ships approaching will be shot down."
Suddenly, in the room, another visual image came into being. "Harry Potter, Lone Traveler, Master of Death and Agent of Gods in many places, your appearance is quite interesting. I am Drall – and I am the one who said that any approach would result in the ship being destroyed."
Sheridan interrupted before Harry could reply. "You look quite different from records I've seen."
The figure laughed. "The Great Machine is regressing my age even as we speak. It is not complete yet – but I already more closely resemble myself from 30 years ago than what I looked like when I joined the machine."
"I see."
Harry interrupted back. "You prevent travel to the planet. Can I get permission to go there to retrieve stones to make protections?"
Drall looked thoughtful for a moment. "I shall allow one trip – you and a pilot only. You shall land on the far side of the planet so that others do not know where you go. No one here may inform anyone of my appearance – do not allow station records of this. Only Delenn and your Commander Ivanova may be told – so as to help avoid others from learning what should not be known."
Garibaldi said, "I'll be the pilot. We can go in twenty minutes as soon as we get on a couple of environmental suits."
Harry waved that off. "You can seal the pilot area and I can protect myself magically. I just need twenty minutes on the surface where there is exposed granite."
Drall nodded. "Lennier. Give Delenn my greetings and my love. She shall see me again at the changing of the tides. Tell no one else of my visit. Captain, quietly inform your second – a formidable woman that one is. And Mr. Garibaldi – take Mr. Potter quickly. You have little extra time." He turned toward Harry. "I allow this because it is a noble endeavor. Do not waste this chance."
Harry nodded. "Thank you." Drall disappeared and Harry turned to Garibaldi. "Let's go."
Garibaldi looked at Sheridan who nodded. "Alright, let's do it."
Harry turned and then paused. "Make certain you give Franklin my message. It's a thousand or a million lives for every little bit of time that is wasted."
Sheridan nodded. Everybody left.
When Harry had completed his protections, Babylon 5 was left with a isolated environment that could be used for future outbreaks of epidemics or pandemics. Delenn and Lennier, who had stayed with the Markab, did see much suffering but many – not most but many – were saved. The little girl that Delenn had comforted lived.
And when she grew up, she was one of the few Markab who became Anla'shok. She always remembered the kind woman who had provided comfort to her in her darkest childhood days.
ISN News, 1 week after outbreak
"Ships carrying relief supplies to the Markab homeworld found devastation unmatched in recorded history. A full sixty percent of the Markab race died in the recent outbreak upon the Markab homeworld.
"Only the tireless work of Earthforce Doctor Stephen Franklin of Babylon 5 and the late Doctor Lazarenn of Markab, who died during the recent outbreak, prevented this tragedy from killing the entire race.
"The vast majority of those saved were children and women. Due to the destabilization from losing so many, the Provisional Markab government applied for Protecterate Status with the Minbari government and has promised the Earth government a favored-status trade treaty for its role in saving their race. This treaty shall be put in full force once the efforts to clean up after this tragedy is completed and a permanent government replaces the former Theocracy which had previously ruled Markab.
Said one Markab, 'Following the old ways nearly led to our race's destruction. Maybe it is time to find new wisdom.'
Babylon 5: Between Severed Dreams and Sic Transit Vir
Delenn and the Minbari Captains who protected Babylon 5 with their ships were invited to the Welcoming Ceremony put on by the Captain. Lennier had not been able to do the preperations himself but had gotten a clan brother to assist the Captain and to teach the Babylon 5 command staff what was necessary.
Lennier had warned the Minbari guests that there would be noticeable differences than what was to be expected, but to save questions until after the ceremony's completion.
After the ritual exchange of food, each person took a piece of flarn and ate it. Each Minbari who tasted it was shocked at the flavor of the flarn and how different it was than was expected. Delenn looked at Lennier in shock but he only smiled, indicating that this was expected.
If any Minbari had been willing, they would have admitted that the taste of the ceremonial food was far, far better than any they had tasted previously. The Minbari Warrior Caste members felt truly welcomed.
When the dinner was over, Delenn's questions were answered. She was shocked when she had learned what had been found and what the Captain had caused to be. Other Religious Caste participants were also told and they meditated long and hard over what it could mean. After Sinclair had returned to the past, Delenn knew that the Captain's suppositions had been correct. Later, no Minbari ever disdained the Welcoming Ceremonies given by Delenn or those that were taught under her aegis: The flarn was simply too good to pass up.
Babylon 5 Season 5: Objects at Rest
Londo Mollari, Centauri Emperor looked around. "Do you have nothing alcoholic in this place? Maybe some of your Earth Whiskey? The drinks in this place are truly bland."
Sheridan shook his head. "No, sorry. With the effect of alcohol on the Minbari, I decided to leave all that when I arrived."
Londo felt a stab of disappointment.
When he reached for his glass during dinner, he was shocked to find that his cup contained a fine earth wine. When he looked at Sheridan, the President of the Interstellar Alliance explained, "After our conversation, I remembered that we DID have a stock of wine on hand. I introduced the Minbari to cooking with win three years ago. As long as it's cooked sufficiently the alcohol disappears and it is safe. I decided that we could liberate a few bottles for our Royal guest in respect for his visit to the Interstellar Alliance."
Londo replied, "Thank you, Mr. President. I shall thoroughly enjoy this."
Later, aboard the royal transport, the Drakh said, "You drank too much."
Londo nodded. "I have a history. I originally asked because I knew that they would have no alcohol. That they did – for any reason – is a surprise. But you only missed a few short minutes.
The Drakh gave him leave to drink again and to have an hour's freedom. Londo remembered the recent unexpected moment of drink.
When the alcohol overcame the keeper, Londo spoke to the two Sheridans in a quiet voice. The true purpose of the gift to their son, the choke hold that the Drakh had over the Centauri, and his inability to act. He begged them to find a way to help his people before they were destroyed in revenge. The couple had promised to do their best.