of the finest, most expensive, aged whiskey, a more recent gift from Catherine; a small case that contained his badges of military rank and some of his medals; and a small framed photo of Catherine.
Sinclair stacked the clothes neatly away, then picked up the photo to say a silent good morning to the woman he had vowed to marry days before events had separated them again. Where was she now? Had she heard about his transfer? Did she know where he was? He would try again today, as he had done every day since coming to Minbar, to get an answer to those questions. Those and many other questions.
When Sinclair finished his shower and emerged from the bathroom dressed and ready to begin another day, he found the Minbari crew had already entered his quarters. He could see one of them setting out his breakfast in the sitting room. The other two had quickly and discreetly removed the towel he had wedged into the mechanism of the bed the night before to keep it horizontal instead of tilted at the forty-five-degree angle the Minbari preferred.
As Sinclair approached, they bowed expectantly, looking always down, awaiting his orders.
"I don't wish to be rude, but I've asked you not to do that. It takes a great deal of effort to get that wedged in there just right so that the bed will remain horizontal. Please, in the future, leave it that way."
"Yes, Ambassador," they said in unison. But that was what they said every morning. It was pretty much all they ever said to him. They seemed to be devoted to his every need, but not to doing what he asked them to do.
"You do speak English, don't you?" It was not the first time he had asked.
"Yes, Ambassador," they said in unison and then quickly scurried out to the sitting room where they and their companion then hurried out