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| Volume 3: A Line in the Sand | Part II: Promises for the Future |
THE fall of Earth, for obvious reasons, necessitated a drastic change in our scope and plans for the future. The expansion and growth of the pre-war years were scrapped, and all our efforts were concentrated simply on surviving. A great many of our former allies, most especially amongst the League of Non-Aligned Worlds, were reluctant to deal with us, out of an understandable desire to prevent the ire of the Minbari from turning their way. The Centauri were similarly wary, their only messages to our Government being along the lines of 'We warned you'.
They had, of course, or at least their Ambassador had warned certain representatives in our Government and military of the foolishness of antagonising the Minbari. They were right, obviously, but the satisfaction of being able to say 'We told you so' surely did not make up for the loss of an ally.
Only the Narns were willing to help us, and then only at an astronomical cost. While the rest of humanity needed their protection - and however inadequate it seemed, it must have worked - we were unwilling to stomach the colossal taxation rates their Government demanded. Even with a number of other companies incorporated into ours, including AreTech, Edgars Industries and GenTech, we were still hovering on the edge of insolvency.
And then came our miracle. After several years of scraping together everything we could, we were presented with a golden opportunity. The conditions seemed minimal, the price negligible, and the rewards power enough to restore us to far beyond even our former glory.
At the time we were too busy pinching ourselves to make sure we were not dreaming. We certainly did not think about the real price of this new deal.
On reflection, that was a mistake of galactic proportions.
Excerpts from a memo to Orin Zento,
Chief Executive Officer of Interplanetary Expeditions,
from Del Varner, Ambassador and Foreign Officer.
* * * * * * *
How strange, thought Delenn of Mir, formerly Satai of the Grey Council, now Zha'valen and outcast and yet so much more, as she looked out over the huddled masses who had once been her own people and were now nothing more than helpless refugees, their lives bound to the whims of aliens and foreigners. Once the Minbari had been spoken of in hushed whispers and with frightened awe. Now they were destroyed, their culture torn apart, their world reduced to poisoned ashes.
How strange. We seem to have lost our sense of purpose in recent years. We have been damned, I think, ever since we annihilated a people.
Her own people truly did not seem aware of their actions. Many rested against walls or in the streets, sleeping fitfully, moaning softly. Many looked afraid.
Most of those here at Kazomi 7 were from either the religious or worker castes. The warriors largely disdained the help of a pathetic, outcast 'priestling' and chose either acceptance and service with 'Primarch' Sinoval, or.... more direct action elsewhere.
We have all fallen, Delenn observed sadly to herself. She had witnessed many horrible changes in her people in the more than ten cycles since the start of the war, but nothing - not even the image of her ruined world - brought this home so much as the sight of these forlorn refugees.
Aliens looked at them with suspicion in their hard eyes. Mainly Drazi - Kazomi 7 had once been a Drazi colony after all, and they still formed the bulk of the security forces along with the mammoth Bulloxians - but there were also Brakiri, Hyach and Abbai here. Administrators, clerks, security officials, customs officers - all processing the details of those arriving, allocating accommodation, recommending medical assistance where necessary, which was often.
Kazomi 7 was nothing if not an eclectic society these days.
Delenn heard a gruff cough beside her and she turned to see Taan Churok, the Drazi Head of Security and Minister for Defence. He had been a barkeeper before the Drakh invasion had turned him into a leader, and the birth of an Alliance had given him responsibility. His face bore a permanently unhappy expression, especially around the refugees. The Drazi were a strong race, and disliked shepherding the weak. Taan Churok would have fitted in very nicely with Sinoval, Delenn thought. Still, she found it hard to dislike him. His hearts, as the humans said, were in the right place.
"Too many of them," he observed. "Far too many."
"There will be room for them," Delenn replied firmly. That was one of her strongest beliefs. There would be room for everyone on Kazomi 7.
He gave the Drazi equivalent of a shrug. "If you think so."
"How goes the rebuilding work in the old Maul Sector?"
"It goes." He nodded at a figure surrounded by Minbari. "Tiring, he is."
"I am not surprised," she said softly. "How long has it been since he slept?"
"As long as it has been since you did." It was a fair point, one which Delenn accepted without comment. She had been on Minbar too long, away from the seat of the United Alliance, and yet she had been needed here. Now that she had returned, she was finding it hard to catch up on everything that had happened in her absence. But with John.... away, she was at least finding the time, even if there was some difficulty with the motivation.
"Still, he should rest. Surely he cannot endure much longer."
"Know you of another with his gifts, who can do what he does?" Taan Churok's voice was disapproving. He had argued long and hard against opening Kazomi 7 to more people, and no doubt he would have been arguing even more strongly against permitting the Minbari refugees to come, had not Delenn simply overruled everyone.
"Essential he is." He gave that Drazi shrug again.
Delenn had to agree. He was essential, and unique. Vejar was the one technomage known to have remained behind in civilised space. The others had all gone. For whatever reason, he had stayed, and had chosen to use his strange powers - not science, nor magic, but a strange mix of the two - to help protect the world he had chosen.
Delenn could see him now. He was slight, seemingly so slender as to break at a touch, and yet his young frame harboured more power than she could have believed possible.
As she watched, Vejar stepped back and ushered off another Minbari. The figure, probably a worker, smiled and walked away from him, making for the two Drazi guards who would carry out the customs check. Vejar bowed solemnly and ushered on the next one.
An important duty, but an exhausting one. Vejar had the task of protecting Kazomi 7, just as Taan Churok did, but from a different direction. While Taan Churok observed for conventional threats, Vejar looked for the.... more unconventional.
The next Minbari, an old, hobbling priest, clearly favouring her left leg, reached the technomage. She smiled benevolently as he placed his hand on her forehead.
Instantly, her whole demeanour changed. A look of insane hatred passed over her face and she lunged at the technomage, her fingers clawing for his eyes. Drazi from all around converged on her, their long, wickedly-pointed knives in their hands instantly. Vejar looked unconcerned, however. Entwining his fingers into a steeple, he took measured steps back from his assailant. With a smooth motion, he blew across the tips of his fingers.
She fell back, her weak leg giving way, sending her falling to the floor. A large hump appeared on her shoulder, one circle of light glowing from its centre.
Taan Churok growled slightly, and Delenn finally found the strength to breathe out. Just another Keeper. One of many found on Minbari refugees. One of far too many.
A tool of the Enemy. Delenn knew little of what the Keepers could do, save for what she had seen here herself. The Drakh had left many behind on Kazomi 7 before they departed, but to see them coming from beyond.... it always terrified her.
Especially on her own people.
Vejar knelt across the Minbari's prone body and raised a hand gently to halt the zealous Drazi. "It is all right," he assured them. "Everything is...."
He fell silent, as did the others. Another figure walked into view, one that moved with the grace of a dancer, and the dignity of an angel. One who commanded respect and awe with every small gesture. One who belonged to legend, and to history, and to a time a thousand years gone.
It was the Minbari who spoke first, whispering in awe amongst themselves. All knew he had returned, of course. Many had seen his.... very public pronouncement at the Temple of Varenni in Yedor. Still, the rumours meant little next to the sight of the legend himself. Even Delenn, who knew as much of the truth as any mortal, found herself breathing a little more sharply.
And he began to speak, and his words reached the heart of his people. For he was Valen, the One Who Was, the legend made flesh, and his words were as unto law.
* * * * * * *
Catherine Sakai knew it was bad news when she received the memo. It was curt, very much to the point, and marked with the personal seal of Orin Zento, CEO of Interplanetary Expeditions himself. Also, and even more significantly, it was handwritten.
Catherine had never seen Zento's handwriting before, and it did not give her any sort of encouragement. It was sharp and angular, with no curves to any of the letters. The words had obviously been written quickly, with no thought other than getting the message across. There was no ostentation, no attempt to make the contents attractive. Nothing but the harshness of the script, and the personal seal. Even the signature stood alone - just Orin Zento, no hint of the many titles which made the man one of the richest and most powerful in the human race.
Catherine read the message again.
Come and see me. My office. 1400 hours. Orin Zento.
Such an event was unprecedented, and Catherine was certain she had an idea of what it was about. The collection of information, discrepancies and tantalising hints she had bundled together in what she called the G'Kar Files.
She waited outside the door to his office, the object of stern glances from the two security guards and no less harsh looks from Zento's secretary, a prim-looking woman by the name of Lise Hampton. She had known about Catherine's appointment instantly, and had made no remark about the strangeness of such an event. She had said only, "Please wait here until Mr. Zento is ready for you," and returned to her business.
Catherine had been waiting in silence for nearly half an hour, and she was becoming more and more agitated by the minute. That was the point, of course, but recognising it did not make the wait any easier.
Finally, after an interminable time, the door opened the briefest fraction and Hampton announced, "He will see you now." Swallowing harshly, Catherine entered, avoiding the suspicious stares of the towering security guards.
She blinked sharply as she walked into the room. There was a slight hiss as the door closed behind her, shutting the room in total darkness. She could see nothing, nothing at all. There was no sound either.
"Mr. Zento," she said softly, walking forward. There was no reply. She said his name again, but still there was nothing. She winced as she bumped into something just in front of her. Feeling it gingerly she realised it was a chair.
"Sit down," said a voice from nowhere. It was electronically distorted. Feeling her way carefully around the chair, Catherine did so. No sooner had she placed her arms on the rests than steel restraints slid out from them, trapping her there. Similar bonds wrapped around her ankles.
"A precaution, nothing more," spoke the same electronic voice. "I apologise for the.... awkwardness of this meeting, but it was necessary."
"Mr. Zento?" she asked softly.
"No. He is busy elsewhere." Even through the distortion, the politeness in the voice came through. Urbane, civilised, efficient, and no one she knew. "I was given the task of conducting this interview."
"What is this about?"
"What does the name G'Kar mean to you?"
A cold sweat gripped her. "Just a name," she replied. "Just.... a name."
"Uh-uh, Miss Sakai. I am afraid that is a lie. Please try to tell the truth. This will go so much more easily if you do. You know more than just his name."
She swallowed harshly. "What is this about?"
"An interview, as I told you. A means to determine.... various issues important to the company at this time. Now again, please answer the question, or certain.... less pleasant methods will have to be employed."
"G'Kar...." she said. Her mouth felt very dry. "A former member of the Narn Government body.... the Kha'Ri. A war hero during their first war with the Centauri. He resigned under mysterious circumstances towards the end of that war, and disappeared. Rumour described him as a prominent preacher of some sort, wandering his homeworld, before he disappeared again just over two years ago. No one has seen him since."
"Not quite no one, Miss Sakai. That is an awful lot of information about a Narn, is it not?"
"He was an important figure. Very prominent."
"Oh yes, but still. You have been investigating him, have you not? Out of a certain.... personal interest. Explain why."
"His name appeared in relation to various.... anomalies in our shipping records. Periods of time unaccounted for, unrecorded journeys."
"I see. And how is he connected to these anomalies?"
"His name appeared somewhere in most of the shipping records. His name or that of others in the Kha'Ri.... all affiliates of his from his time in the Kha'Ri."
"And your conclusion? I trust you have made one."
"I think certain elements within this company have a deal with G'Kar, and are arranging valuable shipments to him, or others in the Narn Government. For what reason, I do not know."
"And what would these shipments consist of?"
"The actual cargoes on the ships which were diverted were all along the lines of weapons technology, genetics information and gene strands, and metals necessary for jump gate construction."
"I see. Is there any trace of such cargoes going missing?"
"No, but I feel the cargo manifests may have been filled in incorrectly."
"Well, my congratulations on such a thorough investigation, Miss Sakai. This matter is now out of your hands. Do not speak to anyone of it, do not continue any investigations, and never mention the name of G'Kar to anyone at all. Resume your normal duties."
"Yes," she said, angrily. She did not like any of this.
"Oh, one last question, Miss Sakai. Are you involved with anyone at the moment?"
She started, and it took her a moment to regain her composure, such as it was in this situation. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I am. Why?"
"Just curious." The metal restraints around her wrists and ankles slid back. She began rubbing at her wrists. "You may go now. Leave by the same way you entered. Good day, Miss Sakai."
* * * * * * *
"I'm.... well.... this is amazing."
G'Kar's holographic form bowed in mock homage. "Indeed. Babylon Four. The project that never was."
"I.... we were going to build this. We had all the plans drawn up.... everything. It was going to serve as a battle station, a rallying point.... everything."
"As it will yet, but for a war far greater than yours, or even mine. The Shadow War is coming, and sooner than we would like. They were delayed greatly by their losses at the battle of the Second Line, and perhaps.... scared a little by the Vorlon presence there. But now that the war between your people and the Minbari is over, and with the Drakh fleet destroyed.... I fear the Shadow War will soon progress to a far deadlier phase."
Captain John J. Sheridan nodded. "I think so too. It might take a little while, but.... sooner or later...."
"We are hoping later, of course. Babylon Four is not yet complete." Sheridan gave him a cautious glance. "Oh, all the major systems are operational. Navigation, communications, life support, the ion engines and so on. There are just minor details, little bits which still need fixing. We have rushed construction through as fast as we dared. It was inevitable that some details would get.... lost along the way."
"Exactly as I saw it...." Sheridan whispered. He drew in a deep breath. He had been one of those who had helped with the fourth mission of the Babylon Project. He had had input into the drawing up of the plans and in scouting out suitable locations.
And then the Minbari had launched a renewed attack on Orion and grandiose schemes of counterattacks had gone completely out of the window. Sheridan sighed. Everyone had lost a great deal at Orion.
But there was something else. A year and a half ago.... just after G'Kar had entered the Heart of the Great Machine.... Sheridan and Delenn and.... others.... had seen Babylon 4, disappearing backwards in time. A great battle had been fought there, one he could only dimly remember.
"I know," G'Kar said, evidently reading Sheridan's thoughts. "This station has a greater destiny than just this war. It will be sent back in time to aid in the last Shadow War. But first.... let us hope it serves us well enough."
"It will go back in time with Valen," came the muted reply. Sheridan rubbed at his eyes. All these time travel shenanigans made his head ache.
"Yes, I have heard about everything that has happened on Minbar," G'Kar said. "I will have to talk to this.... Valen soon. He is who he claims to be, I suppose?"
"Delenn certainly thinks so. Even Sinoval seemed to accept it, although a bit more reluctantly. I.... I'm not so sure, although it is possible. I knew Jeffrey Sinclair.... whom Valen claims he used to be.... well, before.... Ah hell, you know what I mean."
"The mysteries of time travel, Captain. Some days I think both our languages are lacking some very useful linguistic subtleties."
"Heh.... don't tell Delenn that. She'd probably try and teach us some of hers. Anyway, I knew Jeffrey Sinclair. We were at the academy together. I don't remember him all that well, but little details, the speech, the stance, the bearing.... so on. He is Jeffrey Sinclair. I'm certain of it."
"Then he may be Valen as well. I will have to talk with him soon. Primarch Sinoval as well. We have to tie as many of our allies together as we can for the coming storm. Babylon Four was built to unite us. We are too spread out at the moment. The United Alliance at Kazomi Seven, Mr. Bester at Sanctuary, the Minbari here, there and everywhere, my own agents on Narn.... We are too dispersed. Babylon Four will bring us together.... or so I hope."
"I can't get over just how.... familiar it looks."
"I had access to the original plans in the Machine. Everything was copied as closely as possible. Allies of mine in your Government helped with some of the materials."
Sheridan started at the mention of human allies, but he did not ask. G'Kar had his secrets, and he knew a great deal more than he was telling anyone. Necessary, Sheridan supposed, but awfully risky as well.
"Anyway.... I have a request for you."
"You wish to return to Kazomi Seven?" G'Kar said, and he smiled as Sheridan started. "It is not that difficult to notice. I swear I may be turning into a Centauri, may G'Quan save me from that fate! It is dangerous here. We are not.... well defended. Some of my Narn ships are here, it is true, but Captain Mollari has returned to his homeworld."
Sheridan started. He had known Carn.... a little. "He was a good captain. We'll miss him."
"I hope it is only temporary, but there is great upheaval on Centauri Prime. Probably little more than politicking, but I cannot be sure. Even if it is merely what the Centauri call 'the Great Game', it is still a great risk. I have heard little from my agents there for some time. I am troubled." He shook his head sadly.
"No, Captain, you may return to Kazomi Seven. We have enough ships here to protect this station for the time being, and hopefully the day will come soon when the Alliance will be moved here. Besides, dark days are coming, and love must be allowed to shine in what little time we have. Bester will not be pleased, no doubt, but he still has Captain Ben Zayn and the Ozymandias, so he can survive. And he understands the importance of defending the new Alliance just as we do."
Sheridan shrugged. He did not like the idea of G'Kar allied with someone like Bester, but war made for strange bedfellows, as the saying went.
"Thank you, G'Kar. With your permission, we will leave tomorrow. Some of my crew are engaged in various duties around here."
"Ah yes. Thank Lieutenant Connally for me. My people are not used to flying in your Starfuries, but they are superior to our own flyers - may G'Quan blacken my tongue for saying so - and the bays here were designed for Starfuries. Her training is invaluable."
"A question.... why did you build the Starfury bays? Wouldn't designs for your own flyers be easier?"
"We cannot defy history, Captain. I pray you are not needed here for a while at least."
"So do I," Sheridan agreed. He reached out to touch the wall at his side, half afraid that it would disappear at his touch.
"So do I," he repeated softly, his heart many light years away.
"One.... last question," G'Kar said softly. "Has any of your crew experienced.... anything.... unusual?"
"Unusual? No, not that I'm aware of. I suppose David might know before I would, but.... no, I can't think of anything. Why?"
G'Kar waved an arm in negation. "Nothing. Just.... ghosts in the machine, so to say. Nothing serious."
"If you say so." Sheridan did not believe him.
* * * * * * *
They listened to him, unable to do anything else. Not just Minbari, but everyone there. Drazi guards, Brakiri clerks, Hyach customs officials. Even Taan Churok listened, an almost rapt expression on his face. Delenn was unable to tear herself away from the beauty and power of his words.
Even Delenn, who knew the truth about the one they knew as Valen, even she was helpless before the power of his oratory. His words fired and enraptured, captivated and liberated. They were the golden rain on the green fields, the silver skies, the shining stars at twilight.
And finally, the speech done, he bowed gently and walked out among his people, receiving the comforts of their touch, their prayers, and their blessings. All accepted beyond doubt that Jeffrey Sinclair was Valen, as indeed he was. Or, more accurately, as he would be a thousand years in the past.
It was his presence here which had done so much to bring Minbari attention to the United Alliance, even led as it was by an outcast such as Delenn.
"Pretty words," grunted Taan Churok. He sounded moved. Anyone would be, even a Drazi. He shook his head, as if attempting to rid himself of an annoying insect buzzing around him.
"Words from old," Delenn agreed softly. She could not remember the bulk of his speech - she doubted anyone could; it was the words, not the meaning which mattered - but she had recognised faint traces. This line, from the 'Times to Come' speech on Mount H'leya - that image from the triumphant arrival at Z'ha'dum - a metaphor first spoken at the first assembly of the Grey Council. Jeffrey Sinclair possessed all the memories of the Valen he would become, a thousand years before. They had been implanted into him by the Vorlons, erasing in the process almost everything that had made him Jeffrey Sinclair.
She looked at him, basking in the adulation of his people, and reflecting that adulation back to them. He was so beautiful....
Her personal communicator beeped and she picked it up, somewhat awkwardly, from her side. A Centauri instrument, bought and modified by the Brakiri. Such a device felt.... alien to her, but she accepted it.
It was Lethke, former head of the Brakiri Trading Guild here on Kazomi 7, and now Minister for the Economy.
"Delenn," he said, his flawless politeness the result of both years of diplomatic experience and a genuine liking for Delenn, "we have received the documentation from Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar of which you wished to be kept informed. It contains the details of the Babylon Four station he has built, as well as certain.... confidential matters to be shown only to you."
She sighed softly. "Of course, Lethke. Thank you for informing me. I will be with you in a moment." A tremor passed through her, a memory of the past, and the not-too-distant future.
She looked at Taan Churok, and then at Valen, and sighed softly as she left the presence of the most beautiful spirit she had ever known, to dwell on what his - and her - future might be.
* * * * * * *
Catherine was in a strange mood for the rest of the day, not altogether surprisingly. Her ambiguous meeting had raised more questions than it had answered concerning the G'Kar mystery, and the fact that she had been ordered to forget all about this only puzzled her the more. The order to prepare the report which had led to her discovery of the G'Kar Files had come from Zento's own office.
An hour or so after her return from the 'meeting' two men she did not recognise but with appropriate IDs had taken all her copies of her unfinished report. She had spent the rest of the day in a fugue, working idly at various sundry items she had neglected during the investigation of the G'Kar problem.
For the first time in months she had left work on time. She made her way home, her mind still engulfed by the events of the day. Nothing about this made any sense. Nothing.
The hovertransports were busier than she remembered, and being surrounded by the chatter and bustle only deepened her dark mood. Far too many of the conversations were about war. With the Minbari crushed, where now? Some people seemed to think the Narns, or perhaps the Centauri. Maybe even a few of the Non-Aligned Worlds. The economy was on an upswing at last and a continuing war was thought to be the means to keep it that way.
She arrived home almost without realising it, her feet taking her to the door of her apartment on autopilot. As she stepped inside, she heard the sound of the news reports from the vidscreen and realised Dan must be home.
Sure enough he was, lounging in front of the vidscreen. Catherine caught a snatch of the report - ".... for a quick summary of the news today. Rumours from the Resistance Government suggest that President Clark may be considering relaxing some of the Wartime Emergency Measures which have been in force for the past thirteen years. Foremost among the initiatives are believed to be reductions in rationing, and the repeal of certain interstellar travel restrictions.
"Also, the new Warlock class vessel the Marten has been officially launched today. Captain Walker Smith commented only - 'It's a fine ship, with a fine crew. We're going to do well.'
"And finally, the memorial service for former President Marie Crane was held today. She was President of the Resistance Government for eight years, retiring due to ill-health last January. She never recovered from the multiple ailments attributed to the stress of her time in office. President Clark praised her sacrifice and promised to continue in her memory...."
Dan suddenly noticed Catherine's arrival and switched off the screen. "Hi," he said, looking puzzled. "You're early. Cracked that big mystery you were on about?"
Catherine sighed. "That's.... one way to put it." She sank down on to the chair next to him and let him wrap his arm around her. "It's been a.... weird day."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Ah.... maybe when I've got it sorted out in my head. How's your research going?"
He grimaced. Dan Randall had once been an investigative journalist. Quite a famous one, too. But after a particularly.... unpleasant report had aired about the way human miners were being treated on the Narn-run colony of Vega 7, the furious Kha'Ri had been on the verge of having him executed. In an effort to stave off an incident, ISN had fired him. He now worked as a freelance researcher for various companies, currently compiling statistics for the Department of Public Information.
"Ah, you caught me," he confessed, a guilty smile on his face. "I've been lounging around watching the sports all day." Catherine sighed, and shook her head. The first football tournament since the beginning of the war was being aired, and some of the teams were discovering certain.... intriguing possibilities with the Proxima gravity.
"Comes of not having you around to bully me into working."
"I'll bet," she smiled.
"How's about I make you some re-caff and you can persuade me to get some work done."
"That would be perfect."
As he went to the kitchen, Catherine found her mind coming back again to the mystery surrounding her. She had not spoken to Dan about it before - and her gentle questions by way of research had been carefully chosen to elicit as few suspicions as possible. Of course Dan was always suspicious, but Catherine had tried to make her questions seem routine. Sharing classified IPX information with unauthorised personnel would lead to major trouble, but it was getting to the stage where her curiosity was outweighing her good sense.
Besides, it wasn't IPX business any longer. Just.... personal interest. Right?
"Dan," she called into the kitchen. "What do you know about a Narn called G'Kar?"
"Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar?" he called back. Catherine, faintly recognising the term for a Narn preacher, shouted back in the affirmative. "Not as much as I'd like," came the reply. "Once a big fellow in the Kha'Ri. Disappeared on some sort of personal mission some years ago. Still got his fingers in a number of pies, though. Why the interest?"
"Would he have any connection with.... with IPX, at all?"
"Certainly possible. If any Narn would have, it'd be him. He's not quite as xenophobic as some of his fellows. He's got an aide of some sort who comes here from time to time. I'll remember his name in a minute."
"That's a fair bit."
"Well, you know me. Even when I'm not working, the old instincts linger. It's surprising how much you overhear even when you're not trying."
He came back to the couch, carrying two mugs of the nearest thing to coffee available in the post-fall days. Catherine took her mug with a smile and, kicking off her shoes, swung her legs up onto the sofa.
"Why the interest?" Dan asked again, sitting down beside her.
"He's.... involved in IPX somehow. I'm certain of it. At a fairly high level too." She sipped the coffee. It didn't taste of anything at all. "For what reason I can only guess."
"I'll have a poke around tomorrow, if you like. Rustle up a few old contacts. They might know something a bit more recent.... like if this aide of his is in town. Ah.... what was his name? The door chimed and Dan looked up. "I'll get it," he said, rising to his feet and putting his coffee on the table. "Probably the other woman who was supposed to come round when you were out." He grinned, and Catherine smiled back, albeit somewhat weakly.
Her senses were a bit dulled at the moment, but she still heard the buzz of a PPG charging just as Dan opened the door. Acting on instinct she spun round, dropping her coffee, droplets scattering black rain everywhere. She shouted a warning, but it was too late.
Far too late.
The thump of a body hitting the floor coincided with the sound of her cup shattering.
* * * * * * *
The speeches were over and business had returned to something resembling normality at Kazomi 7's spaceport. Delenn had gone to meet with Lethke. Taan Churok and Vejar remained, working as hard as they ever did, and Valen.... he had left too.
For a while he had stood there, the love and adoration of his people enveloping him, and he reflecting it back towards them. The wave of ill-feeling resulting from the fate of the Keeper's host had evaporated, and conversation was now lively - if quiet - and filled with wonder.
Valen drifted through the streets and alleys of Kazomi 7, his mind elevated on a higher plane. Few who saw him could comprehend the thoughts raging through his mind. Only one person he had met since his.... change had been able to identify with him and she.... was away. Besides, she had been changed almost as much as he had.
He remembered so much, some that had happened, some that had not. He could see clearly the slopes of Mount H'leya as he addressed the throng of his own people and others. He could hear the words of his speech as easily as if they were being spoken now beside him.
And yet he could not remember where he had been born, or the name of the first woman he had kissed, or even the name of his brother.
Many times he had pondered on the strangeness of this, and he had come up with many answers. Some satisfied him. Most did not.
But then, there had been very few people he could ever remember who had any sense of.... of centre. Any point of focus around which their lives were based. Marrain - a name and a face he knew but who had been dead for centuries - he had been thus focussed. For a while at least. His whole life had been based around one thing, and when that base was shattered he had fallen, and never recovered.
"I should have led!" the familiar voice cried out, one arm pointing across the room. "I was worthy, more worthy than you! I challenge you, as our people have always settled our differences. Here.... in the heart of the Wheel."
He shook his head sadly. He had known almost instantly that Marrain had not wanted to kill him. Oh no, he had wanted to die there. Some small element of what he had been had remained. As it happened, Marrain had not died then. Unable to bear the pain of the Starfire Wheel he had fallen free, crawling into the shadows at the corner of the temple, to watch.
He remembered.... raising his arms, letting the brutal radiation flow over him, into him. He was not afraid. He knew what to do. He knew....
He sighed, and pulled his thoughts back to the present. What had happened to Marrain in the end? He hoped he had found the peace he had searched for, but somehow he doubted it.
Few indeed with that point of focus. But one who was still alive....
He had spoken to Sinoval.... when.... a few days ago? Delenn had been discussing the problems with the Keepers and the refugees. She had then been called away, and Valen, out of curiosity, had stepped forward and continued the conversation.
Sinoval's dark eyes had narrowed, but he had been willing to speak. He still did not like the one who purported to be Valen, although primarily because of Vorlon involvement in the affair. "Good day," Sinoval had said. "How are you?" His words had been polite but hard. There was little warmth in anything he said.
"Well." Speaking with Sinoval was so like speaking to Marrain. He would look for the deeper meaning behind each word and rarely hesitated to make judgements based on what he saw there. "Delenn has spoken to you of the...." He paused. There had been a different name for the things in his day.... what had Delenn called them? "The Keepers...."
"Yes. We have found some here. Fortunately we have our own methods of detecting and destroying them. I would offer their help to you, but I fear their aid would come at a price higher than you would wish to pay."
The Soul Hunters, of course. Sinoval had made some sort of bargain with them. Valen wondered idly if some report of the Enaid Accord had survived. Unlikely, of course, since it had been very secret even then. Still, the alliance with the Soul Hunters had been very beneficial for a while - but a lot can happen in a thousand years, and no alliance lasts forever. Sinoval must have offered more than Valen had been able to offer.
"How do you think the.... Keepers came to be attached to our people?"
"The Enemy, the humans.... there are a number of possibilities. Rest assured those responsible will not survive much longer. A good evening and a good rest." The screen had faded and Valen sat back, puzzled.
He was still at a loss to understand Sinoval's antipathy towards him. Perhaps it was the Vorlons, although there seemed to be more to it than that. It might well be little more than the reasons which had turned Marrain away from the light. Marrain had been so focussed and sure, and the source of that focus was that he was the greatest warrior of his age.... perhaps ever. He had been strong, fast, skilled, wise. And then along had come one who was stronger, faster, more skilled, wiser.
Valen looked up and sighed. He had been wandering for longer than he had thought. It was time to return to Delenn. There was.... work ahead.
* * * * * * *
She was not quite sure how she had escaped from the sights of the gunmen. She had hidden, but even a cursory search would have revealed her hiding place within seconds. The assailants did not seem interested in her however. From her position beside the door to the kitchen she could hear at least two people moving around. Their movements were precise and definite, as if they knew exactly what they were looking for. Within minutes they were gone. Catherine finally allowed herself to breathe again after she heard the door close. Slowly, she crept out of the kitchen and looked around. Little seemed disturbed. Nothing of any value seemed to have been taken. Just....
Her personal computer. She could see almost immediately that it had been touched, and she knew without checking what would have been taken.
The G'Kar Files. Project Bermuda Triangle. It was the only thing of any interest stored there.
But very few people knew about that file, very few....
Unless this came from IPX themselves, but why.... or who.... or....
She realised just how quickly her thoughts had been running and she breathed out slowly, finally bringing herself to look at the one thing she did not want to look at.
For all that she wished to believe otherwise, there was no escaping it. A single glance showed her that Dan was dead. The shot had hit him point blank in the chest. There were traces of blood, but the wound had been cauterised almost instantly. He was dead.
Catherine swayed backwards and fell on to her chair.... where he had been sitting mere moments before. Her mind was reeling, but she forced herself to think.
Could this have been directed at him? He had a fair few enemies, that was certain. Maybe it was something he had been working on, something he had unwittingly stumbled upon without knowing it. Maybe....
Maybe she wouldn't have to hide somewhere else.
She wasn't crying, she couldn't. She.... she didn't know.
The G'Kar Files. It must have been.
Run. That was the only option. If this was connected to IPX then it was too big just for her. She needed help.... from somewhere. Had this been to find out what she knew? Then why the strange meeting earlier?
Stop thinking. She grabbed as much stuff as she could and fled. Time for thinking - and mourning - later. She needed help, and she knew where to find it.
* * * * * * *
Will you come to find me?
He looked around, puzzled. Everything was darkness. There was nothing to be seen or heard or felt.
Only her voice.
Will you come to find me?
He knew instantly whose voice it was.
Find me....
Will you follow me through darkness, through fire, past death and despair?
Find me.... please.
He picked a direction and began to walk. He did not know why he chose this direction rather than any other, but it seemed fitting.
Light engulfed him. A brilliant, dazzling light. He raised his hands. The light was hurting him.
There she was, chained as if set out for a sacrifice.
"I am lost in darkness!" she cried. "Find me. I am here for you."
And then they were.... around him. They were not in the light - they were the light. They spoke to him, and their words chilled him.
Follow us into darkness, into fire, past death and despair.
The darkness or the light. Choose.
"I.... I'm afraid of the darkness."
Then do what must be done.
He knew what to do. There was a dagger in his hand. Perhaps it had always been there. He stepped forward and looked into her eyes.
"I am lost in darkness for you," she whispered, staring at him. There was no fear, no accusation, only.... acceptance in her eyes. "I came here for you. There was no other way."
"I am afraid of the darkness," he repeated.
"No," she said softly. "I am afraid of the light."
Follow us.
He raised his hand. There was a trace of pity in Delenn's emerald eyes as Sheridan drove the dagger into her, killing her with one stroke.