Title: Blood Money
Fandom: Babylon 5
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Zach Allen.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 568
Spoilers: First half of Season 3.
Summary: The extra credits are still welcome, but Zach is growing increasingly uncomfortable with what he’s expected to do to earn them.
Content Notes: None needed.
Written For: Challenge 288: Spy.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Babylon 5, or the characters. They belong to J. Michael Straczynski.



Night Watch. It had been so easy at first, a real no-brainer; fifty extra credits a week just to wear a stupid armband while doing his job? Who wouldn’t jump at that? Anyone who claimed they couldn’t use a few extra credits in hand was a damned liar. The little pleasures of life got more expensive the further out in space you were, and Babylon 5 was a very long way from home.

So for fifty credits a week on top of his standard wages, Zack Allen was happy to do whatever; it was no skin off his nose. If the Night Watch people wanted to pay him extra for doing what he’d be doing anyway, he’d happily take it. But that had been before, when it had just been keeping an eye on things, handling station security, keeping the peace.

It wasn’t like that anymore; the role of the Night Watch was changing, and if he was honest, it was starting to make Zach more than a little uncomfortable. Since when had EarthGov started spying on its own citizens? Because that was what it boiled down to. Keep tabs on other people’s business, report in on everything, the smallest grumble of complaint about EathGov, or the way President Clarke was running things. What, people weren’t allowed to have opinions now? What happened to the first amendment, the right to free speech? If you asked Zach, ever since President Santiago was killed and Clarke took over, everything had started to go to Hell in a handbasket.

He didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to report decent folks who were just idly airing their grievances. What was wrong with complaining? Everybody did it. Only now, it could get hardworking men and women arrested for sedition, even treason, and how could that be right? Given the choice, Zach would let it slide, he’d been in this job long enough that he could tell the difference between folks who were just mouthing off and those who were inciting others to violence, but the Night Watch didn’t seem to understand that distinction. Anyone who showed even the smallest hint of dissatisfaction got hauled away and Zach didn’t like it.

Sometimes he wondered if he should rip off his armband and walk away from Night Watch. The extra credits were welcome, but he didn’t like being pressured into doing things that felt wrong. The thing was, if he handed in his armband, what was to stop the other members of the Night Watch from hauling him in, maybe making up some false accusations of treason against him? It would be his word against theirs and he already knew who’d be believed. It wasn’t him.

So here he was, stuck between a rock and a hard place, not knowing which way to turn. He’d never been one to like making waves, preferred to just go with the flow; he wasn’t cut out for being a spy. Maybe he could just make an occasional report to his Night Watch superiors, the loudest grumblers, the biggest malcontents, and keep quiet about the rest. It wasn’t as if no one else was keeping tabs on people. Whether he reported them or not, they’d still be reported by someone. It was just that it made him feel…dirty. When had those extra credits started to seem like blood money? He wished to Hell he knew what to do.


The End