" 'Fraid not. Can I see your identicard, please?"
G'Kar suffered a few tense moments while the security officer presumably checked Pa'Nar's identicard on his handheld terminal. "Yes, I have you listed," he agreed. "Any other Narns in your household?"
Careful, G'Kar though in panic. The wrong answer could be disastrous. But what was the right answer?
"Only my brother is here," said Pa'Nar loudly. "He is very sick."
"I'll have to see him," insisted the officer. "I'll just take a look inside and check his identicard. Excuse me."
G'Kar kept his back to the doorway, wondering if he could possibly be lucky enough to encounter a security officer who didn't know him on sight. Probably not. As one of the four alien ambassadors on the station, he wasn't exactly an unknown quantity. He could feel his heart pounding as the security officer shuffled through the flap.
"Excuse me," he said, "we're looking for undocumented Narns in connection with Ambassador G'Kar's death. Are you on the station roster?"
G'Kar coughed and wheezed and tried to sound very sick. He pulled the blanket tighter around his broad shoulders with one hand and gripped his PPG weapon with the other.
"Did you hear what I said?" insisted the officer. "I need your name, and your identicard."
"Ha'Mok," wheezed G'Kar. From his waistcoat he pulled out his fake identicard and tossed it on to the floor behind him.
"Thank you," said the officer sarcastically. G'Kar could envision him bending down to retrieve the card, then running it through his machine. G'Kar had no problem feigning labored breathing during the moments that followed.
"You are listed on the roster," said the officer. "But I have to see you to make positive identification. Turn over, please."
That, decided G'Kar, he could not do. He cursed himself—why hadn't he donned his disguise earlier? It was too late now, and this young man had put himself squarely in the way.