Next chapter | Top of this page | Contents page | Home page | Synopsis | Dramatis personae
| Volume 3: A Line in the Sand | Part IV: A Line in the Sand |
"THIS is Captain Dexter Smith of the EAS Babylon. This station, this planet, this area of space and all peoples and objects and technologies herein are as of this moment placed under the control of the Resistance Government of Humanity. Stand down all weapons and prepare to be boarded. Any resistance will be met with deadly force.
"You have five minutes to comply."
The four ships moved around the space station known as Babylon 4. Very few of them knew of the appropriateness of that name. Once, over seven years ago, Babylon 4 had been hailed as the greatest hope of the human race, a chance to fight back against the alien oppressors, an opportunity to regain power.
For various reasons the Babylon Project had fallen by the wayside and been forgotten. Official secrecy had been maintained , but to those who had been involved in its operation it was the greatest lost chance of the last decade.
But fortune favoured the bold, or so it was said. Humanity was now free and powerful again, a young colossus bestriding the galaxy once more. Babylon 4, the station that had been intended to redeem them, had been built by another for purposes unknown.
And humanity was now on the verge of another victory.
The Earth Alliance starships Babylon, Morningstar, Corinthian and Marten moved into position, their respective captains trying not to reveal their anxieties. This mission had been planned meticulously, and thus far everything seemed to be going as planned. The two human ships working for the enemy - the Parmenion and the Ozymandias - had gone, lured away through false means by an ally. None of the four captains had relished the thought of opposing their own people, least of all the legendary Starkiller, Captain Sheridan.
Also gone was the strange vessel Cathedral, believed to be commanded by the Minbari war criminal Sinoval. No one knew the exact circumstances behind that disappearance, but the timing was put down to fortuitous coincidence.
The only defences now remaining were the three ships from the United Alliance of Worlds - two Drazi Sunhawks and a Brakiri heavy cruiser - all of which could easily be dealt with should that be necessary; the integral defences of the station itself; and the awesome power of the Great Machine on the planet below, which should already have been neutralised.
On board the Babylon, more grateful than anyone else that its former captain had gone, Dexter Smith leaned forward and re-opened channels.
"This is Captain Dexter Smith of the EAS Babylon. I repeat, you are to stand down and surrender the station and all persons and objects on board. Failure to do so will provoke an attack."
There was a crackle as a reply came over the channel. Obviously the inhabitants of the station were taking precautions to prevent any surreptitious tracking or decoding.
"This is Lethke, Minister for the Economy of the United Alliance of Worlds. This station has our full support and any attack on our ships or persons will be considered an act of war against the Alliance."
Smith resisted a sigh of relief. He had been briefed about this possibility. He had also been ordered to supervise all the communications while his fellows got themselves into position to prevent any escapes and set up jamming mechanisms.
"I assure you, minister, we have no quarrel with the Alliance at all. We do however, have rights over the station and the planet, rights of discovery and occupation under the Interstellar Territory Pacts of twenty-two thirty-five, twenty-two thirty-nine and twenty-two forty-two. All items and persons sworn to the Alliance will be permitted to leave, saving only those who are wanted for crimes against our Government."
There was a long silence, and Smith knew what would be going through the alien's mind. Those wanted for crimes against the Resistance Government.... that could only refer to Delenn, former Satai of the Minbari and current President of the Alliance (although she apparently disliked that term). She had been in humanity's hands once, but had managed to slip away. That would not happen again.
Finally, Lethke responded: "Are you suggesting therefore that we are to negotiate on this matter?"
"We will not initiate any acts of violence unless violence is offered to us. We merely wish to enforce our rights. Unfortunately however, any sign of opposition will have to be met with deadly force. Once they are sure there is no danger from this area, my Government will send in legal teams and diplomatic arbiters to resolve this matter. I assure you again, Minister, we intend no hostilities against the Alliance, unless we are acted against."
With a sense of inevitable resignation, the Brakiri stabilised the signal. "You are welcome to board, Captain. We stand down our arms."
* * * * * * *
A wave of Darkness swept over Centauri Prime that night. Seeresses and sensitives all over the planet awoke screaming, paralysed by the terrors of great evil touching them. Screams echoed through the streets and blood ran from the walls.
The number of suicides in that one night was more than double than of the last two months together. In the city of Sphodria, a major trading port and the site of an ancient military victory over the Xon, the Governor of the city spent three hours writing the words, "The Darkness is coming" all over the walls of his house. The words were written in the blood of his wife, his children and his servants. He then threw himself from the roof of the house.
In the powerful mountain city of Camulodo, renowned as a seat of great learning, the curator of the Great Imperial Museum burned the building to the ground. He remained inside it as it burned. He had already clawed out his eyes and was in the process of eating his fingers as he burned to death.
Gallia, a prominent market town, saw its Governor dragged from his bed in the middle of the night by a crazed mob led by three preaching Shadow Criers. Claiming to be heralding in the coming Darkness they threw the Governor into an ancient well and began to pile it full of stones. His feeble cries ended as the last stone was thrown on top of him.
There was no word, no communication, no sign of any kind from the capital.
And on the island of Selini, in the hill farms, in the coastal inlets and coves, and in the capital city of Remarin, home of a new rebellion, there was....
.... peace.
Everyone slept well, except for those suffering from indigestion, or who tended to sleepwalk. There were few bad dreams, no cries for mercy or vengeance, no blood shed in the streets.
In fact the whole island slept, save only for the guards, some of the military, and the inhabitants of the Governor's personal dwelling.
"The fires in Camulodo are rumoured to be getting out of control," reported the dry voice of Lord Durano, formerly of the Ministry of Intelligence. He had always been dispassionate and dedicated, but now it seemed more as if he were reciting the results of this week's moren-ball contests. "Apparently some of the fire service have tried dealing with the situation, but they are being hampered by the mob, and some of the firemen themselves have fallen prey to.... whatever is happening."
"So many dying," muttered Governor Londo Mollari. He could not remember the last time he had slept well, and he certainly wouldn't tonight. He had been on the verge of going to bed when Durano had arrived with Virini and Marrago. Their reports from agents and allies in the three nearest mainland cities had made for grim reading.
"Has the whole planet gone mad?" he asked. "What in the Emperor's Name is happening?"
"We cannot say," replied Durano. "Some sort of psionic backlash perhaps. It is my belief that only a fraction of those afflicted by this.... madness are actually experiencing anything abnormal. The others are in all probability merely responding to the charisma or madness of their leaders."
"But still.... all this.... and for there to be nothing here. There is no explanation of why we here are all unaffected?"
Durano spread his arms wide. "A more comprehensive study might reveal more information, but there could be any number of reasons."
"Well, then. It is time we used this immunity to our advantage. Marrago, how many soldiers do we have here on the island?"
The former Lord-General of the Centauri Republic's armies stood up, the figures instantly at his command. "The five-thousand-strong Selini Guard, which includes the five hundred of the Governor's Personal Guard." An anachronism these days, but one that had been maintained in the name of 'tradition'. Since Londo's rise to power, all those old and forgotten traditions had actually become very useful.
"We also have some seven thousand members of the regular army. These are men I have been gathering from my old regiments and commands, people who are generally unhappy with the way the war with the Narns is going. Some are victims of dispossession in the capital and the surrounding areas."
"Twelve thousand. Hmm.... it will have to be enough. Marrago, you are to gather the armies and take them to the mainland, as swiftly as possible. They are to restore calm and preserve the political order in Sphodria, Camulodo and Gallia."
"Of course, but is this not a little.... premature? And all three at once? The original plan was to take them one at a time."
"The original plan had not anticipated this.... insanity. If we do not save these cities now there will be nothing left of them to save. Durano, the regular military has made no attempt to take any action in these cities?"
"No. In fact the Sphodria barracks withdrew from the city a few hours ago. I believe they all travelled by airship to the main barracks at the capital. The bases at Camulodo and Gallia have been largely abandoned for months."
Londo looked at Marrago. His eyes felt as though they were burning. "You see, Marrago. If we do not help these people.... our people.... then no one else will. We are their only hope."
"We cannot take all three, Londo. Not tonight. There is simply not enough time, and not enough decent under-officers. I can supervise the.... preservation of one myself, and I believe there are enough decent officers to manage the protection of another, but a third.... our soldiers would only add to the problem."
"You have no one who could command the third army?" whispered Timov. She had been standing in the doorway, listening to the conversation with mounting horror. Londo turned to look at her, irrationally angry that she was being exposed to such tales of terror. She was still wearing her sleeping-gown, wrapped tightly around her. He sighed and bowed his head, not wanting even to look at her, to associate her with the decision he knew was coming.
"No, Lady Timov. I am sorry, but so few of the army's officers joined us, and of those who did, there were very few I could trust. I organised and managed our army almost entirely myself. Only the captain of the Selini Guard knows anything at all about our full plans, and not even he knows everything. Most of my under-officers do not even know how many soldiers we have in total." He shook his head with ironic sadness. "It was meant to be a security measure."
"Two," Londo said softly. "Then we will save two."
"Which two?" Timov asked, still in the doorway.
Londo looked up at his companions. Marrago looked at the ceiling and rubbed at his eyes. "We will need Sphodria if we are to mount any sort of extended campaign on the mainland. It would be a vital part of our supply centres. We always knew we would need to control Sphodria before we could even think of making for the capital."
"Gallia is an important centre for the mid-territories," spoke up Durano, looking at Marrago and nodding. "A great many of the Court nobles have estates near there, families based in the city, mansions and so forth. Unfortunately they will probably think of their mansions more than their friends when they hear the city is in danger."
"And protecting Gallia may win us their aid.... or at least quiet support?" Londo said. He felt tired, very tired. Durano nodded. "Well then. It seems our plans are set. Marrago, muster the army. Sphodria first. Take whatever steps are necessary to establish order and try to save as many of the local Parliament as you can. Then.... see to Gallia. Protect as many of the Court nobility's mansions as possible, but take no unnecessary risks. I cannot have my Lord-General cut down by an insane farmer with a scythe." Marrago managed an obligatory chuckle, but all of them knew he did not mean it.
"I was born in Camulodo," said Timov suddenly. Londo turned to look at her, and her expression nearly broke his hearts. "I was fostered there with my aunt for three years as a child. Those were the happiest times of my life."
There was silence. Londo rose to his feet and moved to his wife, saying her name softly. She turned and backed away, moving back into their bedroom. He stopped at the door and punched the wall lightly. Even that hurt his knuckles.
He started suddenly at the sound of movement. Looking up he saw Lennier enter the room, and he breathed out slowly. He must be even more tense than he had thought.
"Governor Mollari," the Minbari said, "Prime Minister Malachi is on the line and he wishes to speak with you."
"Malachi?" said Marrago, evidently surprised. "Some kind of trap, perhaps?"
"A trick to find out where we are," suggested Durano. "A tracking ploy."
"He already knows where we are, and he has known for months. No, he wants to talk, nothing more. Gentlemen.... you know what must be done. May the Gods speed you all on your way safely.... if the bastards even exist, which I am beginning to consider more seriously nowadays."
"Oh?" Durano said, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, if the Gods don't exist, someone up there is out to get me."
Londo moved to the viewscreen in the other room, aware of Lennier standing protectively at the door, pointedly not looking at the viewscreen or making any attempt to listen. He was a good man.... for a Minbari. Londo looked at the viewscreen, at the face of his old friend, of the wise old advisor who had taken in a young, idealistic politician with delusions of grandeur.
"Malachi," he said, no hint of warmth in his voice. "What an unexpected surprise."
Malachi looked so tired. So old. Londo wondered if he looked the same. "Tell me, Londo. How would you like to come to the capital?"
* * * * * * *
She began to move, heading in the direction of what she hoped was a door. She had no idea of where she was, or, more importantly perhaps, where he was.
"It says you must die. It shows me where you are. You cannot run from me."
Kats grimaced in pain and tried to keep moving. Blood was pounding in her ears. The voice - his voice - was so loud.
"It says you must....
".... beg for my forgiveness! You have done wrong. You have sinned and you will be punished."
Kalain's voice. Her outstretched arm came up against a wall and she paused, breathing harshly. For a moment she tried to be quiet, remaining still and motionless, but then she remembered Ashan's words. Whatever it was that was telling him to kill her, it was directing him. He knew where she was.
"I can see you. It can see you. I.... I don't want.... to do this. But it says I must. It says the good of my people depends on this. You followed him, you see. You didn't have to. Nobody made you. It was a mistake, the wrong decision, and now you must be punished for it. It says that it's all your fault."
He was near her now. She could hear his footsteps. She could smell him now as well. He smelled.... wrong, almost as if he were dead and decomposing. His words were flat and toneless.
Gulping in air, touching the wall for balance, she tried to move. A sharp pain burst in her shoulder and she stumbled. Something rolled beneath her foot and she fell.
A rough hand grabbed the collar of her robe, hauling her upwards. She let herself go limp, trying to remember the lessons Sinoval had tried to teach her. He had warned her that one day she would need to know how to fight, and how to kill. She had replied with a gentle smile that she had no intention of ever killing anyone.
She wished she had listened. All she could think of was Sinoval's face when he learned that she was dead.
The point of the knife came to rest at the bottom of her ribcage. Ashan pushed it slightly.
"It.... says that.... It says.... Minbari do not kill Minbari. It says that I must.... No. I am.... Minbari do not.... It...."
The pressure on the knife began to increase. Her robe became damp and warm, and she knew the knife had drawn blood. Ashan's grip on it had become weaker, however. He seemed to be arguing with himself.
"You are Minbari," she said, trying to force the words through the pain. "Minbari do not...." She cried out as the knife was jogged slightly, cutting a deep gouge across her skin.
"Silence.... You are a worker. You.... do not.... matter.... It says that you.... It.... says...."
She twisted her body and slid aside, crying out as the knife sliced across her ribcage and her side. She could feel Ashan losing his balance and hear him falling. Scrambling to her feet, she did not head blindly in any direction, but began clawing desperately for the knife. Her right hand found it, and as she awkwardly pulled it up through bleeding fingers she felt his hand slam down on top of her own.
"Workers.... die.... You.... must...."
He forced her hand up, crushing her fingers on to the hilt. His foot lashed out against her knee and she gave way, crashing backwards to the floor, but still she maintained her hold on the knife. She could feel him rising over her, bending the knife downwards.
"Minbari do not kill Minbari," she whispered, a great dizziness sweeping over her. "Listen to me, Ashan. Please.... fight it...."
"I can't. It says.... It.... says...."
"Listen to yourself. Minbari do not kill...."
The knife slid downwards a little further. "I.... can't.... I.... I...."
He suddenly jerked his hands, forcing the knife upwards. Kats, unable to free her hand from the hilt, added unwitting momentum.
She felt the knife slide into his chest and heard a slight gurgle. His fingers fell stiff and she was able to wrench her hand from the hilt, but not before his blood poured over her fingers.
She rolled aside just in time to prevent his body falling on her.
For a moment there was a still nothingness, and then the pain from her injuries hit home in one shocking burst and she cried out under the onslaught. The full horror of what she had done engulfed her. "Ashan," she whispered. "Ashan. Are you...?" It was useless. He was dead.
"Killed another fine Minbari, worker slut!" bellowed Kalain in her mind. "Beg forgiveness!"
"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm...." She closed her eyes and rolled over, climbing to her hands and knees. "No. You're not here. I know you're not here." She crawled forward, wincing from the pain of the wounds on her arm and body.
"Z'ondar!" Light filled the room as a door was thrown open and a figure stood silhouetted in the doorway. It moved forward with a gait she had never seen before. It raised a weapon that looked very much like a fighting pike.
It hissed out words in a twisted, sibilant language she did not recognise. "Z'ondar," it then said again. The word was Minbari, but one which she did not know. "Z'ondar."
Shaking, she managed to climb to her feet. "Who are you?" she asked softly. "I am Kats, of the worker caste of the Minbari. I.... I mean you no harm."
It began clicking and a strange expression passed over its alien face. "Do you.... revere the Z'ondar?" it asked haltingly, in an erratic worker caste dialect. "Do you remember.... his ways?"
"Who is the Z'ondar?"
It hissed something in its own language and darted forward, raising its weapon. It looked angry, very angry. Kats tried to avoid its attack, but she was too weak. She fell backwards, landing on Ashan's body.
Something beneath her hissed.
The alien's charge suddenly stopped and it dropped its weapon. Black ichor spilling from its eyes, it fell face forward on to the ground, a sharp knife sticking from its back.
"My lady?" asked a voice from the door. "Are you all right? I.... I can't see you."
"Kozorr," she whispered. "I am here." She hoped she sounded stronger than she felt.
"My lady." He moved forward awkwardly, and his shape was soon lost in the darkness. "Talk to me, Kats."
"I am here. I...." She coughed. "What has happened? What is...?" She could hear once again the hissing sound from beneath her. A strange warmth began to rise beneath her neck. Breathing out sharply, she rolled aside, and was stopped by strong hands.
Kozorr helped her rise. "I heard that Ashan had brought you here, my lady. Some of the.... survivors managed to direct me."
"Survivors?" she said, clinging to him tightly. She did not feel capable of standing on her own. "What happened? I.... remember meeting with Callenn and Ashan and then.... something fell on me and I.... I woke up here. He said he was going to kill me."
"He is dead. It was a fine blow. Worthy of a warrior."
"I'm not a warrior, though! I never want to be one. That.... that was the first time I've ever killed anyone."
"You have a strong heart, Kats," he said, his voice almost breaking. "Come.... see what has happened."
He helped her out of the room, and she looked at the utter devastation around her.
She felt like weeping.
* * * * * * *
Ta'Lon felt for the presence of his sword, as he would check on the security of an old friend. This whole place felt wrong to him, and he was experiencing a growing fear for the life of the one man he had sworn to follow unto death.
He had been a soldier during the occupation. The sight of the casual torture and murder of his family and mate had driven him into a peculiar form of insanity and he had dedicated his life to the destruction of the Centauri. Disdaining any long-range or high-technology weapons, he had taken the katok his grandfather had forged and sworn to use it as his instrument of vengeance. He had fought for almost the entirety of his adult life with only his sword. It was both weapon and constant companion: his only friend.
When the Centauri had withdrawn he had been bereft of purpose, wandering idly, picking fights, seeking mercenary employment. Some of the tasks he had been commissioned for had been neither ethical nor legal, but he had done them anyway, neither caring nor knowing anything else.
And then he had met Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar. He had been hired to assassinate the prophet by one who preferred to avoid the expense or the rules of the Thenta Ma'Kur. G'Kar had awoken to see the assassin standing over him, sword held ready. He had spoken nine brief words:
"Is this the purpose that sword was made for?"
Ta'Lon had broken down in tears and the two had talked all night. G'Kar's wisdom had awed him, and by dawn he had sworn himself to the prophet's side. He was not the first Ranger, but perhaps he was the first true Narn Ranger.
From that day to this he had always known he would give his life for G'Kar, but now he was accepting the revelation that he might have to do more than just die for the prophet. He might have to live for him.
Satisfied that the sword was still there, he turned to look at his companions. Six Narn Rangers, all men he had chosen and trained personally. He knew he could count on them. There were two humans present as well, neither of whom he was entirely sure of: Garibaldi, who worked for G'Kar's old ally Bester, a man he had been suspicious of from the beginning and still doubted today; and Dr. Kirkish, who had been studying the Machine in detail, again for Bester.
Something was definitely wrong. They should have been met by guards by now. Where were they?
"Be careful," he warned his Narns. He was speaking in his native tongue, one he had always felt proud of. The Centauri had not been able to eradicate it, and joy at its salvation led him to use it wherever possible. "Watch out for the humans. I am not sure I trust them."
"As you say," came the reply. He smiled. Good men.
The Heart of the Machine was before them now, almost. Ta'Lon reached to draw his sword, and then he stopped. Once drawn, it could not be sheathed without shedding blood, and he would not dishonour this place with a weapon unless he had to. He had enough time.
He rounded a corner and entered the hall wherein lay the Heart of the Machine. He stepped forward, and smiled to see his mentor and leader safely within. He stepped further inside and walked up to the Heart itself, stopping some paces from it, and kneeling.
"Forgive me, Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar," he said formally. "We feared for your safety. No one from the station has been able to contact you."
"There is no need to worry," said the voice of his leader. "No need at all. Everything is going fine." Behind her mask of light and mirrors, Donne smiled.
* * * * * * *
"I'm.... going."
"Go, then."
"Somebody has to, don't you see that? Somebody has to try to save the world!"
"And it's always got to be you. 'To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.' I don't believe you! We could still try to get away. Some of the colonies are intact. We could.... Oh, why am I bothering? You don't want to get away. You want to stay and fight."
"This is my world too. I have to try to save it. I thought you would understand."
"Oh, I understand. We can't save Earth. The Minbari are too strong. Everyone knows that."
"We're going to build a line. It'll hold. I know it will."
"You're deluding yourself. Go on then. Go and save the world. I won't be here when you get back.... if you get back. I'm sorry, Jeffrey. I love you more than anything, but I won't throw my life away on some.... foolish hope of beating impossible odds. It's over. Goodbye...."
"Catherine, no!"
"You can come with me. I.... want you to.... But you won't, will you?"
"I.... I.... can't."
"Goodbye."
He reached out to touch her hand, remembering once again how she felt, how she smelled, the soft timbre of her voice. It all came flooding back in one savage, brutal moment. "Catherine? It is you."
She smiled. "It's me."
"They took you from me." He bowed his head. Valen, Jeffrey Sinclair.... either, both.... bowed his head. "They took you from me."
She was silent, just watching him. Finally he regained his composure, and the man who would go down in Minbari legends as the greatest orator ever born, slowly, haltingly, breaking down with each minute that passed.... tried to explain the words in his heart to the woman he had once loved above all else.
He did not quite succeed.
* * * * * * *
Centauri history contained many long and bloody episodes. From the first skirmish with the Xon to the most recent war with the Narns it seemed that the history of the Centauri Republic had been measured by its conflicts. The legendary History of the Republic by Lord Graves had indeed been based on such a theory.
The majority of those conflicts had been external - with various aliens. Civil wars had also occurred of course - numerous conflicts with Selini, the struggle of the False Minister, the Rebellion of the Fifty-Two Lords, the Fall of the False Prophet Zog. The Centauri nobility had been embroiled in strife almost since recorded history began.
Since the second Emperor and the establishment of the Court however, such instances had been rare. The nobles had learned that a cold war was better, and so the Great Game of intrigue and plotting and innuendo, coupled with the occasional assassination, had developed. No noble had ever actually attacked the estate of another for centuries.
Until now.
The House of Kiro had once been mighty in the politics of the Court, and indeed Emperors had come from that line. They had fallen far in modern times, but their most recent Lord had ambitions to reverse that fall. It was widely expected among political commentators - including those with similar ambitions to Kiro's - that he would not rise as far as he hoped. He was a little too obvious in his plottings, just a bit too brazen and arrogant. Still, in these troubled times anything could happen.
Which was perhaps the reason for the attack on his home by forces loyal to Lord Jarno. He had been assembling quite an army in the last few months. Personal guardsmen, mercenary soldiers, several less than savoury 'businessmen'. Kiro's own guard had been strengthened as well, but he had been away for too long and he had not believed that anyone would dare attack him in his own house.
He was wrong.
"I demand to be released at once! This is an outrage and the Court shall hear of it!"
"The Court will hear nothing," replied the veiled noblewoman, playing with the hilt of her fan coquettishly. "Apart, of course, from what we choose to tell them."
"Lies! You will hang for this."
"No, we won't. You see, my lord, we have evidence that you are planning a coup against the Court. Or rather, we will have evidence.... once you have told us where to find it, or how to fabricate it."
"I'll tell you nothing."
"I will wager that is not the first time you have heard that, Trakis?" There was a brief acknowledgement in reply. "I leave the matter now in your entirely capable hands."
"But I'm a noble of the Court! My family has given rise to Emperors. You can't...."
"Now, Trakis. Please don't hurt his mouth. He does have to speak, remember."
Over an hour later the Lady Mariel walked away from the cellar room holding the fan in front of her face, both to conceal her identity and so that the servants and slaves would not see the hint of nausea in her expression. Trakis had indeed been very good. A former slave, he had leapt at the chance to torture a Centauri noble. After the first few minutes Mariel had begun to doubt her ability to stay there for long, but she had willed herself the strength. That at least was more than her pathetic husband or her equally pathetic lover would have done.
And where was her lover? Jarno could at least have been around to supervise Kiro's fate. Instead he was off somewhere, probably having a massive guilt trip.
She stopped one of the mercenary soldiers she had managed to gather and asked him. The answer she received hardly filled her with solace.
The seeress had not moved in all the time since Mariel had been here last. Neither, it seemed, had Jarno. He was still standing there, looking directly at the Lady Ladira. He looked so pathetic. Ladira was sitting on the floor, her legs still crossed, in some kind of trance. Jarno could well have been in some kind of trance himself, judging by his expression.
"Good news," she said, walking up to his side. She lifted her veil and kissed him once, briefly. "He confessed. He was actually plotting a coup. All the evidence is in his computer records. I would know where to find it, but alas.... such things are beyond a simple lady of the court. You will have to help me, my love."
"Is he.... did you.... is he...?"
"Dead? No, not yet. We may need him alive for more information, but I dare say his wounds will kill him before long. Be happy, my love. We have pulled off a great victory, removed one of your rivals, and we are now a step closer to your securing the throne. Next.... I think we may be strong enough to deal with Prince Cartagia and that.... that slut of his. The Lady Elrisia will surely be put out once she hears of this."
"The Lady Elrisia called you a slut from the woods with no manners, class, breeding or intellect, Mariel. I think that sours your opinion of her just a little."
"I told you never to repeat that!" she snapped, slapping at him. "Don't forget who has brought you this far. Without me, you'd still be languishing in some Gods-forsaken post as under-sub-secretary to the clerk to the secretary of the Minister of the Treasury."
"I know full well where you've brought me, Mariel. And that you only latched yourself on to me because your husband went missing in action. But still, if Kiro really was planning a coup perhaps some good will come out of this after all."
"Of course some good will come out of this. We're one step nearer the throne for you. Remember...."
"Jarno!" cried a familiar voice. Mariel groaned slightly, and then underwent a conscious change to her bearing, expression and tone of voice. It was a skill she had taken great pains to learn, and practised at every opportunity.
"Why, Daggair, dear. How wonderful to see you here."
"What have you done, Jarno?" cried Mariel's beloved sister-wife. "Word has reached the Court. They're calling it treason. They're.... they're going to arrest you. I came to.... to see if it was true.... What have you done?"
"Nothing, dear, now please leave us alone. They won't dare do anything to us. They...." Mariel stopped abruptly, as a sudden cold wind rushed through the room. She turned back to Jarno and followed his gaze, with much the same expression of horror. Lady Ladira was rising to her feet.
"The Darkness is coming," hissed the seeress, swaying drunkenly. She reached out her arms as if for Jarno, but he backed away in a terrified panic. "The Darkness is coming for us all.
"I can see it. I can see it reaching this world, claiming us all. It has already claimed you.
"By knife, by madness, by rope.... all here shall die. Surely you.... and surely I. By knife, by madness, by rope we must die. Surely you.... but firstly I."
Jarno let out a strangled cry and moved forward. His hand seized a goblet from the mantle at his side. It was an old ornament, and heavy. Stumbling forward, as if he had inherited the same near-drunkenness that afflicted her, he dashed the goblet against Ladira's head.
She fell crumpled to the floor, a brief spot of blood dropping from her crushed skull.
"Oh, Gods," cried Daggair. "What have you...? The Court must.... must...." She turned and lurched for the door. Mariel was faster, sliding a thin blade from the spine of her fan. Daggair had hardly reached the corridor outside the door when the blade pierced the back of her neck, and she fell.
"She was right," said Jarno, looking at the two bodies before him. "She was right."
"Shut up! There's no backing out of this now, Jarno.... none. We are in this to the end. Do you hear me?"
"Rope, knife, madness. Rope, knife, madness."
Mariel sighed, and noticed a speck of blood on her gloves. She cursed slightly as she tried to wipe it off. Then, mindful that her companion seemed incapable of doing anything, she called for the guards to remove the bodies.
Then she fled to a distant corner to be terribly sick.
* * * * * * *
Captain Dexter Smith refrained from checking his uniform for the eighth time and drew in a deep breath. He was the representative of the conquering heroes after all. He had won. Well, not just him, but he had been a part of it.
Maybe now the ghost of the Starkiller would leave his shoulder.
He walked forward into the docking bay of the station the Narn had, strangely, named Babylon 4. That was the proper name for the place of course, but Smith was less than sure why a Narn would call it that. Ah, who could fathom the motives of aliens? His security guards were behind and beside him. Enough of them.... for the moment. Enough to deal with such problems as might arise.
A small group of aliens was waiting for him. Most of them were Narns, wearing peculiar sunburst insignia, and carrying weapons. In front of them were a Drazi, glowering unpleasantly, and a Brakiri, dressed in an immaculate copy of an Earth business suit.
The Brakiri stepped forward, as Smith came to a halt. "I am Lethke, Minister of the Economy for the United Alliance of Kazomi Seven. It is with.... some reluctance that I hand the station over to you, Captain Smith."
"I thank you, Minister Lethke. Reluctance need not play a part. This station was meant to be ours and this area of space does belong to the Resistance Government. Our diplomats will be more than happy to confirm this, and once they have done so you and your staff will be free to return to your home. We at Proxima would value good relations with the United Alliance."
The Drazi barked something in a strange language, and the Brakiri nodded once. "It is unfortunate, I suppose, that those more qualified than I to authorise an action such as this are not here. Messrs G'Kar and Ta'Lon are currently missing, and the Narn security forces here seem to accept me as the acting leader.... at least for the moment."
"We will be happy to discuss matters with G'Kar and Ta'Lon when they make themselves known to us, Minister. Now, where is Satai Delenn? I have orders to take her into custody."
"Ah, Delenn no longer goes by that title, Captain, and I do not know where she is. I should also point out that any measures taken against her will constitute hostile action against the Alliance, and we will respond in kind."
"Neither I nor my Government has any wish for hostilities with the Alliance, Minister. However, Delenn is wanted for war crimes against my people, and my orders are to make sure she stands trial for them."
"Well then, Captain, it appears we are at an impasse. I cannot allow Delenn to be taken into your custody. Would it not be said she possesses diplomatic immunity, as head of the Alliance?"
"My Government has not recognised that position." Smith hoped his bearing did not betray his concern. His orders had stated that the capture of Delenn was second in importance only to the capture of the Machine. War with the Alliance would be a trifling price to pay if it brought the President Delenn. And yet.... Smith did not want to start a war, and he did not want to hand someone over for torture and probable execution. He had no doubt that she would have no qualms about doing the same to him, but he liked to believe that that was what made him better than the Minbari.
The Drazi said something else, and this time Lethke shook his head sadly.
"What did he say?" Smith asked.
"He said we should kill you," came the reply.
"Then do so," Smith said, quietly pleased by how stern his voice sounded, "but know that if you do, the four ships waiting in orbit will attack and board this station, and there will be no measures taken to protect diplomatic immunity. Your guards will stand down their weapons, and you will render us every co-operation in the capture of Satai Delenn. Do you understand me?"
Something else from the Drazi, and a hint of anticipation in the Brakiri's bearing. "We understand you perfectly, Captain. Absolutely perfectly."
* * * * * * *
"Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar.... is anything.... wrong?"
"Of course not," replied Donne. "Why would there be anything wrong?" She looked at the figures before her, searching through the Machine's memories to find their records. They had all come from the station, and all but two of them were Narn - G'Kar must have had details on them. It would have helped if the Narns didn't all look alike, but then it was only a matter of time. How long to leave things before she showed them all the truth? How long would it take those mundanes to seize control of the station? Silly question, they were mundanes - they would probably still be trying by Christmas.
"We were unable to contact you. You have not been seen on the station for hours. We were.... worried."
"There was no need to be worried." The one in front was speaking. He would be the leader then. Come on, his files would have to be here somewhere. What sort of organisation was there in this thing? Where...? Her vision swam, and she found herself still staring at the Narn before her, but somehow she knew he was younger.
"Will you follow me, Ta'Lon?" she asked. No, it wasn't she who was asking. It was G'Kar.
"Of course I will. Through fire and darkness, past death and despair...."
With a colossal force of will she brought herself back to the present. That was not the first time she had found herself visually and mentally reliving old scenes, all of them involving G'Kar. The Machine's equivalent of a filing cabinet, no doubt.
"There was.... no need for concern. The Machine has just been.... under some strain lately."
"Of course, Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar. I understand. I shall report back that all is well. May I lay my blade at your feet in honour and respect?"
"Yes. Yes of course." What was this? Some absurd Narn ritual. Donne scanned through the others. All Rangers no doubt. All expendable therefore. Who were the humans? She recognised Michael Garibaldi. He'd been working for Al for quite a while. A mundane, but an important one. She'd probably have to keep him alive then. The other one.... the woman.... where had she seen her before?
She looked back to see Ta'Lon draw that long sword from the sheath on his back and kneel down just in front of her. He was almost close enough to touch. She considered reaching out and tearing his mind open.
His next motion was too fast even for the Machine to track. He brought the sword up and slashed it across her side. She threw back her head and screamed, knowing that had she not installed a protective force field the blow would have killed her.
Through her pain she could feel the voices of the Machine wailing in her mind, a myriad cacophony of screams.
"Did you think I would not recognise an imposter in the place of my lord?" hissed the Narn. "Where is he and what have you done with him?"
Something began to knit across the wound. She did not know what, nor did she care. All she felt was the burning hatred, and the explosion of voices in her mind.
"Burn!"
The entire room before her burst into a blaze of electrical discharge. The Narn Rangers ran forward, drawing their own swords, rushing to join their leader.
Too late.
At the last minute Donne remembered to erect a hasty force field, shielding both herself and Ta'Lon from the effects of the blast. She very much wanted him alive. The Narns screamed as the floor beneath them heated up and the air thickened and flashed with sparks.
"Burn," she said again, and the blasts ended, six smoking bodies falling to the ground. "Tu'Pari!"
Ta'Lon, who had been knocked aside by her blast, rolled to his feet in one smooth motion. Still wielding his sword, he lunged for her again, but this time she had her own Narn to aid her.
The assassin's cloak of darkness dissolved and he burst into motion. Hiding him had been simplicity itself. Concealing Numbers One and Two had been equally easy, although G'Kar had been a little harder. The Machine recognised its former keeper and did not want to harm him. Forcing it to do so had taken some effort.
Numbers One and Two trained their weapons on the other two humans. Garibaldi looked up at Donne, her holographic illusion now cast aside. He shrugged, and handed his own weapon over to Number One. His companion carried no weapon.
Ta'Lon's sword swept out towards Tu'Pari, but the assassin raised an arm and the sword appeared to glance aside. Lashing out with his other fist, he caught the underside of Ta'Lon's jaw. Just before the impact, small spikes shot out from the knuckles of his glove.
The Ranger went down. A few sharp kicks ensured that he did not rise again.
"Is he dead, Tu'Pari?"
"No, not yet. You aren't paying me enough to kill him."
A wave of anger poured through her, but she managed to restrain herself. She needed Tu'Pari alive. Better by far to turn that anger against the being who had wounded her.
"Am I paying you enough to torture him?"
"Depends on what you want done to him."
"I had plans for G'Kar, but I still need him alive and relatively unharmed. He may be willing to talk more if he feels his friends are in danger. Begin with an eye, and work your way up from there. I trust to your expertise in this matter."
Tu'Pari drew his wickedly-bladed dagger and tested it against his arm. He then smiled. "Always a pleasure to serve."
* * * * * * *
Catherine shook her head slowly. "It's all so.... I don't know. I thought you were dead. No one survived the Line, they said. No one."
"No one did. I can't.... quite.... see it. But I do know that no one survived. The Minbari were.... very thorough."
"Now that is what I don't understand. The Minbari destroyed everything of ours. They tore us apart, and they kept us apart these past thirteen years. Oh, I know it was these Vorlons who did.... whatever.... but it was the Minbari who allowed it. So why in God's name are you.... looking like.... that?"
"I don't expect you to understand. Sometimes I'm not sure I understand." He rose to his feet and gently took her hand, guiding her outside to his balcony. It was the middle of the morning now, and the bustle of people through the streets of Kazomi 7 could be heard. Slowly he pointed to a park, not far away. There was a small shrine there, made of wood and stone. In front of the shrine there was a garden of sand and rocks. "You see that?"
"A Japanese stone garden, yes.... I.... What is a Japanese stone garden doing here? I've only seen two other humans on this whole planet; that insane merchant who brought me here and the Gandalf wannabe who checked me out in the customs area."
"Ah, I believe the Centauri picked up the idea, and quite liked it.... for a time. Our fashions were quite popular with them for a while, remember? And after.... afterwards.... Delenn told me that they merely altered the stone garden a little to make it look Minbari. It was destroyed when the Drakh invaded, but Delenn saw to it that it was rebuilt. She said.... something...." He straightened. "The power of one mind to change the universe. I told Marrain that once, when he was questioning some of my ideas. That was the one occasion when I wish he hadn't listened to me."
"You creep me out when you do that." She shivered. "Oh, don't look at me like that. One minute you're almost the Jeff I knew, and I can almost forget you've got that damned bone growing out of your skull, and then.... and then you switch personalities and creep me out. What has that stone garden got to do with anything anyway?"
"What do you see when you look at it?"
She shrugged. "Rocks. Sand. More sand. What am I supposed to see?"
"I see footsteps stretching out across the sand, running forever on into the distance. And I know that I'm following them, travelling a path that has already been travelled.... There's a man waiting for me at the end.... and he's me.
"Catherine, I remember things that I have not yet done. I can see my future.... your past. The Vorlons did that to me. They changed my appearance, my memories, took away almost everything that made me human.... leaving just enough so that I would be the Valen of history. They took you away from me. They took everything away from me.
"I have no choice but to follow this path. They made sure of that."
"You.... remember your future?"
"I know what is to happen. The histories record everything I said, and did, and all the mistakes I made.... mistakes I have to make again. Footsteps in the sand."
"Then you.... you know how you're going to die?"
He shivered and bowed his head, gripping the balcony rail tightly. "Don't ask me. I can never tell you. Never tell anyone."
"I don't know if you're Jeffrey or.... the other guy at the moment. I don't think I want to know. What are you going to do now?"
"Stay here. I have to. I don't think the Vorlons want me to go too far...."
He must stay here, until the time is right.
Catherine recoiled at the alien thoughts, but she said nothing. He did not seem to notice.
"Besides, if I head out into the galaxy, there's too much that could happen. The Minbari are.... falling apart at the moment. If I tried to help, I'd just make things worse. I know I would. Neither of the factions out there wants me, not really. But here.... I can help. There are some Minbari who.... remember what I'm meant to represent, and they're coming here. They're coming to safety and strengthening this place.... all at the same time.
"I have to stay here. But you, Catherine.... what are you going to do? I.... I would like you to stay."
"I don't know. I'd.... been told I would find you here, but I had no idea it would be like this. I.... I need to think. I'd like to see a bit more of this place."
"Of course. I'll give you a guided tour."
"I just hope that no one back home gets word of me hanging around with a Minbari."
He smiled, but it was a false smile. She looked at him, and wondered what thoughts were there, behind that so-alien face. For a brief moment equally alien thoughts flitted inside her mind - but only for a moment, and then they were gone, the Vorlon influence receding to her subconscious, content to wait. For the moment, at least.
* * * * * * *
Delenn stood still, looking out into space. All she could see were the human ships floating there. The same human ships that had destroyed Minbar.
"No," she muttered. "We destroyed Minbar. Our arrogance. Our sins. Us, not them."
She grimaced, placing her hands against her forehead. Her head was pounding. She had been concentrating on this for.... she did not know how long. A long time. It had been foolishness to imagine this would work, but she had to try. All communications signals were blocked. There was still no word from the Machine and she had accepted that something had happened to G'Kar. Sinoval had gone, and would in all likelihood not return even if he was aware of what was happening here. His loyalties lay elsewhere.
There was only John, and only one way to contact him.
She had never tried using her link with Lyta in this way before. Neither of them was sure how it worked or what it was capable of. Delenn knew only that it was a connection of some sort, and part of what had led to a wonderful friendship.
Lyta was with John. If only she could somehow.... get.... something.... through.
A warm wind seemed to be blowing into her mind, a rush of gold on blue. She fell to her knees, almost screaming. She had touched something all right. But what?
"Lyta? Lyta?"
Are you ready?
"Kosh...." The Vorlon who had placed a part of himself within her, the same part that was now within Lyta; the source of their connection.
A deal was made. My part in it is almost done. Remember what you saw.
"What I saw...? I don't...."
Remember.
She screamed as something seemed to explode in her mind. She fell forward to her knees, her hands clawing against the plastics, seemingly clawing against space itself.
"Delenn?" Lyta! At last! "Delenn.... what is happening? You're.... you're hurting me."
"We.... need you, Lyta. We.... we.... need you...."
"What is...?" Lyta was screaming. "Delenn.... What...?" Her voice was growing quieter, only her screams remaining. "What...?" It faded, and there was silence again.
Behind Delenn, standing in the doorway, were four human security officials. One of them activated a link. "Captain Smith. We have her, sir."
* * * * * * *
"All this.... and for what?"
Kozorr touched her arm gently and she winced from the pain. She felt very dizzy, but something kept her upright. Kats wondered what it could possibly be. By rights she should be unconscious by now.
"A warning. Look closer. All the damage was concentrated on the Administration building, the Government bases, military locations.... next to nothing on civilian targets."
Kats nodded, breathing out harshly. She should have seen that. "But who...?"
"That thing that attacked you. It mentioned.... someone called the Z'ondar?" She nodded again. "Do you think it meant Sonovar? Some sort of linguistic corruption perhaps? Sinoval and I have ben expecting something from Sonovar for a while, but.... nothing like this." He shook his head. "I just wish I knew who these aliens were."
"What.... now?"
"Now, my lady, I am taking you to a place where you can heal. There are survivors who have set up emergency hospitals. Then.... I'll try to take one of these aliens alive. Some of them are still here. I suppose I had better try to find out where Administrator Callen is, but that might be a low-priority assignment."
She chuckled, and then swayed, almost falling. He caught her awkwardly, his ruined hand unable to afford him proper leverage. "Too.... much.... blood...."
"Come on, Kats. There is somewhere not far. Just.... stay conscious. Talk to me...."
"About.... what...?"
"Anything." He took a few steps forward, holding her in as balanced a position as he could manage. "Your childhood. Your parents. Your.... Kats! Stay awake!"
".... Trying...." She could see Kalain again, floating in front of her, above her, laughing, mocking her. Worker bitch. Murderer! Inferior. Hardly Minbari at all were the worker caste. Nothing more than animals, really. Valen might have raised them up, but that was all they were.
"Kats...." Kozorr's voice was fading, and everything around her seemed dark. "Kats.... my lady.... Stay awake.... my lady."
I love you.
Had he said those words, or had she only imagined them? She tried to think of something to say, but the words would not come out. She reached up for him, but could not move her arm. Darkness took her at last.
* * * * * * *
She moved as though swimming through treacle. Voices exploded in her mind - Delenn's voice, the Vorlon voices, Valen's words.... she could hear them all. But she knew what had to be done.
Somehow Lyta Alexander managed to reach the bridge of the Parmenion, although she could remember nothing of the journey. She was aware only of Delenn's plea for help, and then the solemn orders of the Vorlon that shared her soul.
"Miss Alexander!" started Captain Sheridan. "What is...?"
Everyone on the bridge was looking at her. Captain Sheridan, Commander Corwin, the third-in-command, Major Krantz, the tech ops. She tried to speak, but could not frame the words. The light was shining so brightly in her mind.
She wanted to scream.
And she did.
Her eyes became reflections of the Vorlon within her. Her mouth was wide open and light and beauty poured from it, from her, illuminating the room.
<Choose your destiny now. The avalanche has begun.>
"What is this?" asked Krantz, from seemingly a whole universe away. "Captain, what...?"
<Choose. The past depends on you.>
The light faded and Lyta, her scream voiced at last, fell to the floor. Sheridan was beside her instantly. "What's happened?" he asked.
"Delenn.... she.... got through to me.... somehow.... She's in trouble.... big trouble...."
"David, try and send a message to Babylon Four. See if you can find out what's going on there."
"Yes, Captain," came the reply. Corwin began barking orders to the technicians.
"Captain Sheridan, we have a duty to be at Sanctuary as soon as possible, do you remember?" Major Krantz again. Lyta found his surface thoughts screaming at her. He was worried about.... something. A conflict of interests. He was.... going to betray them.
"This might be important, Major."
Corwin turned around from the commpanels. "We can't get through to the station. Something's jamming all signals."
Sheridan rose to his feet. "Right, that's it. We're turning about and heading back to the station."
"Captain, you have your orders."
"Yes, I do, Major, and I'm ignoring them. David, how long is it likely to take us to get back?"
"Several hours. We're going to have to reset the navigation and reattach ourselves to the old jump gate beacon. We've still got it in memory, so it shouldn't be too hard."
"Good. Lyta, I'll call for the medics. You look like you need something."
"Nothing they can do for me." Her voice sounded dry, as if it were coming from a stranger. "The Vorlons are playing with me again. I'll.... stay here."
"If you think you can."
"Captain Sheridan! You have been ordered to make for Sanctuary."
"Yes, Major Krantz, and I told you I'm ignoring that order. Babylon Four is in trouble, and they need our help."
"You work for Bester, not G'Kar. Remember that!" Sheridan ignored him. In a fury, Krantz activated his link.
"Do you think we should inform Ben Zayn about this?" asked Corwin. "He might be able to help."
"He's more likely to try to fire on us. Something stinks here, David. This whole.... sudden order to leave was just too.... convenient. No, Bester knew about this, I'd bet anything on it."
"It does seem likely."
"Captain!" Lyta cried, falling to her knees in pain. "Sec.... security are.... They're...." The door to the bridge opened and a squad of Narn security officers entered.
"Ko'Dath," ordered Major Krantz. "Captain Sheridan and Commander Corwin are relieved of duty as of this moment. You are to escort them to the brig."
Ko'Dath made a gesture of feigned surprise, and looked at Sheridan. "Captain?"
Sheridan smiled. "Major Krantz isn't feeling too well, Ko'Dath. I think he needs a lie down in one of the holding cells. Take him there, will you?"
"Yes, Captain."
"Oh, and after that, ready your people as much as you can. I think we might need you when we get to Babylon Four."
"We're always ready, Captain."
"You can't do this, Sheridan! You...."
"I've already done it, Major." Sheridan turned his back as the Narn Bat Squad dragged the protesting Major Krantz away from the bridge. None of the technicians stirred as they did so.
"Well, we've done it now," said Corwin.
"Ah, I've been wanting to do that for a long time."
Lyta smiled through her pain.
* * * * * * *
"You know how to stop his pain, G'Kar. Just tell me."
The Narn coughed, laughter spluttering through his breath. "You.... still.... do not.... understand. The Machine can never be yours.... You.... do.... not.... are not.... ready...."
Donne looked at Ta'Lon. He was unconscious, blood staining his face and the front of his clothing. "Tu'Pari, you idiot! I told you to be careful with him. I don't want him dead."
"He isn't. At a rough guess, he made himself fall unconscious."
Donne was surprised. "You can do that?"
"It was an old trick taught amongst the Thenta Ma'Kur. A trick to protect us from awkward questions if we should be captured. These.... Rangers must have found out about it somehow."
"Ah. Annoying. Wake him up." Tu'Pari nodded.
"I will do what I can."
"And please put that thing away."
"Thing? Oh, this." He held up a red orb, thick blood dripping from it. Behind him, Garibaldi's friend was being very sick. "A trophy of conquest. And please.... lower your tone. I am not your slave, lady."
You will be whatever I tell you to be, came the thought, but she did not give voice to it. She needed Tu'Pari for the moment, and the humans were growing less and less willing to be here. Sooner or later she would have to kill them, but not until she had figured out how to access all the secrets of this Machine. With all its knowledge at her disposal, she would be able to hold off anything. Without it.... Ta'Lon had nearly defeated her just by himself. What if more like him came?
"This thing has some offensive capability. I know it does. But...." She smiled, alien thoughts buzzing through her mind. The Machine was responding to her. Words, thoughts.... images.... all there.
Weaponry, enough to protect this planet for a million years.
She laughed. "Well, G'Kar. You didn't tell me about all those long-range missiles this thing has hidden around. Who knows just how vast this Machine is?"
"I did.... but you do not.... you are not...." He coughed again. "You.... can.... not...."
"Oh yes, I can." She started, and then laughed again. "There's a jump point opening. A ship's arriving. I think I have some target practice. Tell me what I need to know, G'Kar, or I'll start filling the skies with as many of these missiles as I can. And I'll turn that precious station of yours into so much scrap metal.
"Well?"
Alone, off to the side, still comatose, thoughts began to race through Susan Ivanova's mind - guiding her, directing her, pushing her. The Keeper's soft words touched her, and sent thoughts into Donne's mind, manipulating her to the desired end.
Ivanova's eyes opened.
* * * * * * *
Londo looked out through the window of his transport, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sea beneath him. Unfortunately it was too dark, but he could imagine it there, proud and majestic, knowing nothing of his concerns or his problems.
Timov's angry words still sounded in his memory. He had hated to leave her like that, but if the Gods were willing, then they would meet again.
"It was Malachi. He.... he has invited me to attend him in the capital."
Timov had snorted. "Mad, of course?"
Londo had looked at her, realising just how much he had grown to love her recently. "I will be leaving within the hour."
He did not know why he had to go. Well, he did know, but he could not put it into words. Vague concepts of friendship and sacrifice and understanding all flitted through his mind, but he knew as well as Timov did that none of that really mattered. What did matter was.... he did not know. But something had to matter. He knew only that if he did not go, he would lose any opportunity to end this without more bloodshed.
Without the sacrifice of another Camulodo.
"Malachi is my friend," he had tried to explain.
"What sort of friend can he be? Look at what he has done!"
"Malachi has not done everything."
"He's done enough!"
No, that was it. Londo needed to see Malachi again, to look into his eyes and see, once and for all, if his friend was still there. Malachi had taken in a young and idealistic noble's son and trained him in the ways of politics and the Court. He had told Londo something, once:
"We possess power far greater than that of any others, on any other world in the galaxy. And yet how do we use it? Power is nothing if it is not used, but it is even less if used wrongly. Remember that, Londo."
What could have happened to him?
Beside him Lennier sat, apparently asleep, but probably just meditating. He had not insisted on coming. There had just been no doubt that he not would be left behind. The two of them had begun this whole quest together after all. They would have to finish it together.
It seemed so long ago, that journey to Kazomi 7 with Delenn. Where was she now? Safe and at peace, he hoped.
Well, safer and more at peace than he was.
The capital, and the Court, drew him onwards.
* * * * * * *
Captain Smith had not been sure what to expect from the notorious war criminal Satai Delenn. He had never seen her before in person, although he had been given access to records.... from both before and after her emergence from her cocoon.
Neither of them matched the picture of peace and serenity before him now. She was seated on a narrow bench in the holding cell, hands folded in her lap, head raised, looking him squarely in the eye. She looked very different from either of the images he had seen. Apparently she had gone through a second transformation. Human and Minbari were now blended perfectly in her.
She made him.... uncomfortable.
"It is my place to inform you that you will be taken from here to Proxima Three, there to stand trial for war crimes against the human race. You will be afforded every right to defence and justice according to our laws. Do you understand what I have just told you?"
"I understand," she said. Her voice was strangely accented, soft, but with layers of steel beneath. "And we both know, Captain Smith, that my trial will be anything but fair."
"My Government has assured me that it will be. In any case your trial is not my concern. I am just a soldier. It is my duty to escort you there and hand you over to the appropriate authorities. That is all."
"Nobody is 'just' anything, Captain."
"As you say, Satai."
"I no longer go by that title. It was taken from me a long time ago."
"Then how should I address you?"
"My name is Delenn, and it is as good a name as any other. If you are uncomfortable with that, however, then my people gave me another title to replace the one they took from me. Zha'valen."
"And that means?"
"Outcast."
He opened his mouth to speak, but then realised he had nothing worth saying. Simply being around her troubled him in a way he could not identify. Maybe because she looked so human, or so vulnerable. It was hard to envisage her as the monstrous butcher he had always believed the Minbari to be.
His link suddenly beeped and he activated it. "Yes. Smith here."
It was Lieutenant Franklin, from the bridge of the Babylon. "Captain, our sensors have detected something approaching from hyperspace. One of our ships. A capital ship."
"All our capital ships are here. What...?" He suddenly paled, and looked at Delenn. There was a knowing look in her eyes, and he suddenly felt the burden of his ghosts rising up before him.
And a chance to exorcise himself of it forever. "It's Sheridan. I'm on my way back to the ship. I'll be there as soon as I can."
"But Captain, your orders are to...."
"The station is secure, and the capture of the station and the Machine were our top priorities. To safeguard our acquisitions here we need to defeat these reinforcements, and for that, I need to be on the bridge of my ship. I will be there immediately."
He turned and left the holding cell, barking quick instructions to the two security officers on guard there. As he left he heard Delenn saying something, and he turned back to her. "Walk with Valen, Captain," she repeated softly.
Troubled, he ignored her, and began to run towards the shuttle bays.
Sheridan. The Starkiller. At last, another chance to prove fully to everyone that he was worthy of sitting in the captain's chair where the Starkiller himself had once sat. They had clashed before, but inconclusively. This time it would be more decisive.
Smith would later wonder how his future would have turned if he had remained on the station, co-ordinating its defence from there. He would never know, but he would always feel that the decision to make for his ship had been the one greatest moment of his life.
* * * * * * *
The Parmenion emerged from hyperspace to find the four ships of the Resistance Government waiting for it. Sheridan looked at them, and felt a tightening in his chest. Here it was: the conflict he had been dreading and hoping to avoid ever since he had broken away from Proxima.
"This is Captain Sheridan of the Parmenion," he said, the comm channels carrying the message to his four opponents, and also, he hoped, to the captains of the Drazi and Brakiri ships. "Babylon Four and Epsilon Three are under my protection. You are to leave now."
"Captain Sheridan," came a reply. A voice he recognised. General Ryan. "You are wanted for war crimes against the Resistance Government. Stand down your ship now, and we promise to spare those of your crew who are innocent of any wrongs against humanity."
"That is not an option, General."
* * * * * * *
On board the Stra'Kath, the Drazi captain had been sitting impatiently for hours, wondering why he was not being ordered to fight. Still, he placed trust in Taan Churok, and would wait.
Finally, the order he had been waiting for arrived.
"The control room is ours once more. The station is ours." Taan Churok's face on the screen. "Allies are here. Fight."
The captain grinned. He did not bother checking in with his Brakiri counterpart. If he was willing to fight, then he would join in.
He set target for the human ships, and ordered the Stra'Kath forward.
* * * * * * *
Donne smiled. "You were warned."
The Machine rumbled, and a missile soared from the bowels of the planet, shooting up into space.