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| Volume 4: A Future, Born in Pain | Part VII: That Which Man Hath Brought Together.... |
"IT is over."
"Yes, it is over."
"You have won."
"Yes, we have won."
* * * * * * *
They came, from star to distant star. From worlds of fire and worlds of ice. From darkness and light. From hope and despair. From love and hatred.
They came, they gathered, ships passing in the night. Old friends, older enemies, all drawn by the same irresistible force.
It will soon be over.
The words hung in all their minds.
It will soon be over.
No one was sure when exactly it had begun. People spoke of the Battle of the Second Line, where the Shadow ships had first appeared in force to go to war. Some mentioned the Third Line as the true beginning of the war, the apocalyptic battle that had seen the destruction of an entire planet. Some spoke of the terrible day when Minbar had been scorched with fire and fury from the heavens.
Some, most notably the Narn and the Centauri, referred to the beginning - or perhaps continuation is a better word - of their conflict, over three years gone now. Some, who saw with wisdom, placed it at the very beginning, when the Centauri had reached a defenceless, peaceful world and launched an unprovoked attack.
Then there were those who were reminded of the human / Minbari conflict, the Battle of the Line, the Battles of Mars and Orion, the fall of the Black Star, the fateful first encounter.
A precious few even cast their minds back a thousand years, to the appearance of Valen, and the first War of Shadow.
But whenever it had started, whenever the first battle had begun, there was one thing all could agree on.
It will be over soon.
And so to Kazomi 7, they came.
* * * * * * *
The newly inaugurated Lord-General Carn Mollari knew little of the world of Kazomi 7. At least, he knew little that was not common knowledge. It was the centre of the United Alliance, a former Drazi colony, a crossroads between trade routes, that had been attacked and devastated by the Drakh in an unprovoked and brutal assault. From out of that period of nightmare and destruction, the Alliance had been formed.
Carn knew that his uncle, the High and August Emperor Mollari II, had played a part in that birthing, but little of the specifics. It was not something his uncle had ever liked to talk about.
He looked down upon the world. It did not seem much at all, really, but then the true wonder was not the planet itself, but what was above it.
Ships from countless different races. Drazi and Brakiri and Gaim and Llort and the Alliance's own ships - the Dark Stars. Carn noticed one or two Minbari warships, a few human capital ships. There was the fleet he had brought from Centauri Prime.
And there were the Narns as well, of course.
This was the largest war fleet every assembled in known history, and it was still growing.
"It will soon be over," he whispered to himself, merely repeating the refrain that was on everyone's lips - or whatever passed for lips in the case of some aliens. "It will soon be over."
But then he thought of his uncle sitting alone on his uncomfortable chair, and of the smiling human who always stood behind him, and Carn doubted very much whether it would soon be over. He doubted whether it would ever be over.
"So, this is it, hmm?" Carn turned, and bowed in the presence of Minister.... no, Ambassador now, Durano. The former Minister of Intelligence and now Ambassador to the United Alliance from the Centauri Republic. It was a glorious position. Durano was to be the voice of the entire Republic in matters of foreign affairs. It was a clear promotion....
So why did the whole thing stink of wrongness?
"It does not look like much, does it, Lord-General?" Durano asked. "But then I learned never to judge by appearances."
"As you say, Ambassador. The fleet, however...."
"Yes, the fleet. The largest ever assembled, or so we were told. Whatever power could gather this many races all together for one single purpose.... that sort of power should never be underestimated. There is a lot to discover here."
Carn turned as his personal aide came into the observation room. He was still unused to being in a position where he needed a personal aide. Kiron Maray had performed a similar function for the previous Lord-General, and he had done so with perfect efficiency. Carn had no complaint with his performance or intelligence, only that it seemed wrong, somehow. Carn did not feel like a Lord-General.
"Lord-General Mollari, Ambassador Durano, we have been invited to the surface to meet with the Alliance Council."
"We had better go, then," Durano said. "We would not want to keep the Council waiting."
Durano turned to leave, but Carn took one last look out of the window. Another ship moved into view, very near by. Carn's lips twitched into a wry smile. Na'Tok was here, then. The Narns were every much a part of the Alliance as the Centauri soon would be.
"I will see you down there, my friend," he whispered, to no one in particular. Then he followed Durano, ready to meet with the Council.
* * * * * * *
"You are a coward!"
There was little warmth in the rising suns, little light through the dark, cloudy skies. There was little comfort in the strong, foul-smelling breeze. There was little life in the dust-choked lakes that once had shone with light and beauty and colour.
Still, Kozorr looked out across the landscape before him, and smiled. He had come home now, and he was never going to leave it again.
"You are a coward and a weakling! You knew how to fight once! You can learn how to fight again!"
Minbar had once been a thriving and beautiful world, filled with ancient wonders and beautiful visions. Then the humans and the Drakh had come and rained poisoned fire from the heavens, searing the ground and destroying the air and turning all to death.
Kozorr had not been there to defend his world. He had spent that time in agony, with a broken and shattered leg, a flayed and mutilated hand and a cracked headbone, all injuries sustained honourably and nobly, although such a differentiation meant little to him these days.
They had left Minbar, under the guidance of the Primarch Sinoval the Minbari people had abandoned their ancestral home and taken to the stars. Now Primarch Sinoval was gone, disappeared, and the Minbari had returned home.
The poisons had faded, but not vanished. The air could be breathed, but not easily. The ground could be cultivated, but not without hours of back-breaking labour. The task was difficult, and would not be achieved in generations, but the first act of the new Grey Council had been to begin to restore Minbar.
Kozorr, once a warrior, now a worker by acceptance and marriage, had welcomed this task.
"Look at me! What has happened to you, Kozorr? You were a warrior once. How are you so blind now?"
He looked away, turning his back on that glorious sunrise, and found himself staring at Tirivail. Her eyes were filled with fury, and her bearing was one of absolute control over herself. She was a warrior.
She was more than a warrior. She was Satai. One of the new Grey Council. One of the three warriors. Her father, Takier, was another. The third position for the warrior was as yet undecided. Both Takier and Tirivail wanted Kozorr to take that position, but he would not stand there. He had stood in the columns of light once, a part of Kalain's ill-fated Grey Council, and he would not stand there again.
Besides, he was a warrior no longer.
"You are a coward," Tirivail spat again.
She looked glorious in her wrath, her eyes flashing. She was a true warrior. Once he had thought he had feelings for her, feelings beyond mere admiration of her beauty and her skill. Perhaps he still did feel for her, but he knew true love now, and beside that, what he felt for Tirivail was as a candle to a star.
"No, Tirivail," he said. "I am no coward." Once he would have called her 'my lady', but no longer. There was only one woman who merited that address from him now. "Indeed, I feel braver now than I ever have."
"It is her, isn't it?" Tirivail sneered. "You could have come with me, Kozorr. We could have ridden into battle side by side, flames lashing around us, weapons held high, glorying in triumph and victory after victory. You could have known me in battle and in love, and yet you turn to a weak worker, and she has made you a coward."
"Kats is not weak," Kozorr said. His visage was unchanged, but there was danger in his voice. Tirivail noticed it and took a slow step back. "She is not weak, and you know that. And all she has done to me is help me see the truth."
"No," Tirivail admitted, grudgingly. "She is not weak, I will give her that much. She is strong, for a worker. But she is not a warrior. You are."
"Not any more."
"We go to the greatest battle ever to be seen. We will ride to the gates of Sheol and cast open the doors. We will walk where only Valen himself once walked, and we will write new legends to last for the next thousand years! We will be the new Marrain, the new Derannimer, the new heroes for future generations. How long have we all dreamed of this....
"And you will remain here, hoeing fields and building bridges?"
"I would rather build a bridge than destroy one. I have had enough of war, Tirivail. I will not fight again. I will not kill again.... and I have no wish to be a hero."
"Then what do you wish to be? What else is there, if not a hero?"
"Husband," he said, smiling. "Father, even. I have done too much in my life I am not proud of, but this.... this is right. I know it."
She shook her head. "I do not understand."
"You will," he said, smiling. Confusion rose in her eyes, and then she turned, making for the door. "Tirivail," he called after her. "Return safely."
She made to say something, but fell silent. She left.
* * * * * * *
Captain David Corwin was a rarity in many ways, and he knew it. One of the few human captains in the entire Dark Star fleet, he also had the greatest experience of battle relative to his age of anyone, whether Drazi, Brakiri or Narn. He was in command of the third ship of the fleet, a powerful and prestigious position. He had been instrumental in many of the key engagements of the wars.
He was also one of the few captains to sleep on his ship.
Few people liked the Dark Stars. The crews spoke of dark dreams, of strange visions, of hearing screams of pain just echoing through the walls. Not many lasted long on them, despite necessity and prestige. Those who did became either dour and uncommunicative, or fearful and haunted. Of either type, few spent any longer on their ships than they had to.
All except David Corwin.
Oh, there were as many strange happenings on his ship - one of the few Dark Stars with a name, the Agamemnon, another rarity - as on any other. There were voices, strange sightings. The Captain frequently spoke when no one was there, addressing someone called 'Carolyn', a human name that belonged to none of the crew. During the epic battle with the Fist of Darkness to save Kazomi 7 he had spoken to two people, neither of whom were there, one was this Carolyn, the other was unknown.
Some speculated that he was insane, some that he was farsighted, and could see things others could not. Still others believed that he was supernaturally lucky. A few, with perhaps more wisdom, suggested that all three could be true, and indeed, all three were true.
But everyone flocked to his ship, and the Agamemnon was considered the finest post in the fleet, even more so than the Dark Star 1, ship of the fabled Shadowkiller, General Sheridan himself. Captains Daro and Kulomani, of Dark Stars 2 and 4 respectively, recognised Corwin as at least their equal, if not their superior.
Many things were said about Captain David Corwin, but one acknowledged fact was that he spent more time on his ship than any other captain, save only Sheridan himself. His crew had fewer instances of insanity or breakdown. For some reason, whatever curse afflicted the Dark Star fleet, the Agamemnon was largely immune to it.
So, when David Corwin left his ship and came down to the surface, it was for a good reason.
In this particular case, it was for the very best of reasons.
"I'd heard you were here," he said, smiling. "I wanted to come and see you earlier."
"Oh, David," said Lyta, smiling in her turn. She looked around, and for a single moment her eyes became black. She looked back at him and her smile returned, more relieved this time. She did not say the words, with either voice or mind, but her meaning was clear. We are safe now. We can talk now. "How are you?"
"Well.... I guess. Still alive, anyway. I meant to come and see you straight after the battle, but we had to return to Krindar pretty quickly. I wasn't sure if you'd be here."
"Oh, yes.... we were here. Whatever you said to him, it got the General riled up. He was determined to come and do what he could. And of course.... where he goes, I'm not far behind. The Vorlons don't want him hurt. Too much is riding on him."
"Are they still.... influencing him?"
"I don't know. I don't even know exactly what it was they did to him in the first place. But I can't sense any telepathic influence. I think they're just.... making him see what he wants to see. Half of what he's doing, he's doing himself."
"Good. Well, maybe not good. I don't know. I'd like to think this is easier to deal with.... if there isn't any.... you know."
"I think so. And rather you than me. How is Carolyn?"
"The same, I think. I'm talking to her a lot, like you said. I call her by name as often as possible, to remind her of who she was.... is. Half the crew think I'm insane, I've no doubt, but.... Will we be able to free her?"
"I don't know. I think that will involve bringing down the whole network, and whether that will free them or kill them all I don't know."
"Surely death's better than that."
"I think so. David.... if that ever happens to me, I'd prefer to die. Do you understand?"
He paused, and swallowed harshly. Then he nodded. "I understand. You can count on me." There was a painful lump in his throat.
She smiled. "It isn't going to happen though. This is almost over. Once the war is done.... there'll be a few years. A time to consolidate, to rebuild. I'll have time."
"To do what?"
"To get away. To find Sinoval. He's gone into hiding now, or so I can.... gather. But I can find him. He'll let me find him. He's the one who can do this, if anyone can. I think that's his whole purpose. They're afraid of him."
"Sinoval. You'll go and.... work for him?"
"Not work for. Help him. But not until all this is done. As soon as this is over, as soon as I get the chance, then.... I'll be gone. You probably won't even see me leave."
"Good luck, then," he whispered. "I think I'll miss you."
Lyta smiled. "You could come along. I'd like to have you with me." She paused. "I can't believe I just said that," she added.
"I.... I...."
"No," she said quickly. "It doesn't matter. I've.... got to go. Good luck, David. Stay alive."
"Uh.... yeah. You, too."
Stay alive. He intended to. After all, what else was there?
* * * * * * *
Durano read the document carefully, keeping his mind calm. Precision was everything. There was a human saying he had picked up over the years, one he had liked the sound of very much.
God is in the details.
It was called the Kazomi Treaty, that would formally end the war between the Narn Régime and the Centauri Republic, with provisions allowing both entry into the United Alliance. Ordinarily such a complex and involved piece of legislation would be the result of months of intensive negotiation, constant references to various Governments, meetings, give-and-take and numerous draftings.
The Kazomi Treaty had taken less than two weeks, and most of it had been drafted beforehand. It had been made very clear there was little room for re-writing.
Durano skimmed past the territorial provisions. They were unchanged, and were more than reasonable. All borders were to be reset to the period immediately before the conflict. Worlds captured by either side were to be returned to their original jurisdictions. All invading or occupying forces were to return to sovereign soil.
More than reasonable, given that the Narns had had by far the advantage in that area. They had taken several more worlds than the Centauri.
The military provisions were awkward, but Durano was an experienced negotiator and he recognised them as inevitable. Certain sensitive systems were to be classified as Demilitarised Zones, with no armed presence from either side. Certain other systems were to have limited military presences. Some stations and satellites were to be removed.
Also, and this would be the hardest to push through what was left of the Centarum.... there were strict limits on the Centauri Republic's military capacity. There was a similar provision regarding the Narns, but their limits were much.... less confining.
That was inevitable, really. The Centauri were to all intents and purposes the losing party in this war, and such provisions were only to be expected.
There were no orders for payment of reparations by either side. Durano knew several bodies back home would insist on payment from the Narns, but he also knew that one was dead in the water from the start, so he had not pushed it.
The Alliance was to convene a full and exhaustive War Crimes Tribunal into the entire affair, investigating rumours of atrocities on both sides. The former Lord-General Marrago was at the top of the list in that area, but there were some Narns named as well. The whole passage was vague and unclear, and that summed up the reason Durano did not like this treaty, not at all.
Oh, the peace treaty was reasonable, quite fair in some respects. Had Durano negotiated the document from the very beginning, he would have been more than pleased with his efforts.
But then came the provisions for joining the United Alliance, and everything went wrong.
The Centauri Republic was to commit a set proportion of its military to work alongside the Alliance fleets, in whatever capacity they were necessary. Anyone in command of that fleet would be subject to the authority of the United Alliance Council and its General, John J. Sheridan, including the Lord-General himself. Indeed, based on the wording of the section, were Emperor Mollari to lead a ship to the Alliance in this way, he would be subject to the Council's authority.
The demands on the fleet were extortionate. Durano was not a military man, but he had worked out that those demands, coupled with the limitations on military capacity, would leave many key areas barely defensible. Even the homeworld would be defended at minimum capability.
He read on.
The Republic was to have a permanent Ambassador placed on Kazomi 7 at all times - that would be me, Durano thought grimly. This Ambassador would have the same rights and responsibilities as all other members of the Council, and his vote - or that of his assistant were he absent for any reason - would carry the same weight as any other Council member.
The Alliance would have free rein and free rights of transport across all worlds, stations and colonies of the Centauri Republic. All official Alliance parties would have freedom to travel anywhere in Centauri space. Alliance investigators would be dispatched to all Centauri worlds, to investigate the details of the Shadow involvement with the Centauri.
A permanent Alliance observer would be placed on Centauri Prime and other key locations. This observer would have access to all records, papers and private meetings, however confidential. He would report directly and solely to the Alliance Council, and would not be bound by any laws of the Republic, or any authority of any individual within the Republic, up to and including the Emperor himself.
There was more, detailing levies to be paid to the Alliance, obligations to send further military capabilities if formally requested and so forth, but most of it was irrelevant. The early passages alone were an effective acknowledgement of the slavery of every Centauri man, woman and child to the Alliance.
Durano sat back, unable to find any loopholes. Whoever had drafted the treaty, they had known what they were doing. He was not sure if the Narn membership treaty had similar provisions, having been unable to read it.
He had spoken to the Emperor about the effects this would have. Londo had looked at him with dark, haunted eyes.
"Durano.... we are a defeated race. We are doomed, all of us. Sign it.... or none of us will ever see the light again."
Durano looked up, casting his eyes around the room. The Council members were here. Almost all of them. Some of them believed the provisions were exactly what the Centauri deserved, others that they were too much. Some clearly thought they were not harsh enough.
But which was which, that was the question.
He remembered his earliest and most influential lessons.
Trust no one.
And, God is in the details.
He signed.
* * * * * * *
"I cannot help you further."
Vejar looked up at his guest, and sighed to himself. He had tried very hard to cultivate a mystique, an aura of strangeness. Here he was, alone in his darkened chamber where he cast powerful magics and sorceries and, so some probably believed, drank the blood of babies.
Unfortunately, that mystique was ruined when people kept coming in for a talk and cup of tea all the time.
Not that he objected to David Corwin's presence as such. Sooner or later the man was bound to work out just who had been responsible for aiding him during the battle with the Fist of Darkness. It spoke well that it was sooner rather than later. Vejar sensed Corwin could be a powerful ally.
But he could not help now.
"I have done all I can at this time. To act further would.... draw more attention to myself than I would like, than I can bear."
"You helped me before."
"I did, yes.... and I should not have done that."
"I need to free her. I can hear her all the time. She's trapped somewhere in the heart of my ship, in constant pain, in agony, losing her mind! You can help me free her."
"Maybe I can, maybe I cannot. We have heard whispers about the Vorlons' 'network' for some time, but its power is beyond our own. How can I say I will not kill this.... Carolyn in the process of trying to free her? How can I say this will not draw the Vorlons down upon my own head? I have no wish to die.... not yet."
"Then you're afraid."
"Of course I am. If you knew what I know, you would be afraid too."
"I see. I am going to free her. You know that."
"I know you will try. You will probably fail."
"Well, at least I will have done something!"
As Captain Corwin left, Vejar sighed again. He did not want to have to turn him away, but the time was not yet right. The war was not yet over. The Vorlons had not yet moved in force.
"You're afraid."
Vejar had power. He could cast sorceries that few could even understand. He could summon demons, hex computer systems. He could kill with a glance. He was probably the most powerful mortal being on Kazomi 7, and even the definition of mortal did not truly fit him.
But yes, he was afraid.
When he thought of the Vorlons, how could he not be?
"It is easy for you to talk, Galen," he said softly. "You don't have a Vorlon only a few hundred metres above your head."
No, but Vejar knew that that would not stop Galen even if he did.
* * * * * * *
True love is like any addictive drug, he had read once, in that it is boring and yet dangerous at the same time. John Sheridan had little doubt that his feelings for Delenn of Mir were true love, but while he had plenty of evidence to justify the dangerous part of it, at no time had their relationship ever been boring.
He did love her, he knew that. He knew also that he had become something very different while he had thought her dead. It was as if he was a poor sinner who had found there was a heaven after all, only to be thrown out of it after a few, glorious months.
And now he was doubting if he would ever see heaven again.
He could not look at Delenn now without thinking of their son, their son who had died before he had been given even a chance at life, their son who would be the only child either of them could have. A dark rage filled him, a determination to seek only revenge. But on whom? All the people to be revenged against were gone.
"John," Delenn said softly, and as always a tremble went through him when he heard his name spoken in her soft, beautifully accented voice. "We have to talk."
He nodded, his throat suddenly very dry. "You're right. I'm.... I'm sorry.... the way things have been...."
"Hard, I know. But we are together now.... and we may never be so again. The last battle is coming, we all know it. We have both been far too lucky thus far. We may not be lucky again."
"Lucky?" he said with a whisper. "Good God, Delenn, how can you call what has happened to us luck?"
"We are both still alive. We have known great love. We have known good and loyal friends. We have endured hardship and adversity and we are both still here. We have both triumphed far more than we have failed. That sounds like luck to me."
"When you put it that way...."
"None of us knows how much time we have, John. We must think of the present first. John.... I am sorry about our son. If there had been any other way.... but there was not. You have to believe me."
"Sorry? Delenn.... I don't blame you." The lie burned in his throat. "I could never blame you. How could I...?"
"Still, I am sorry, and I always will be. I think.... sometimes I wonder if there was anything else I could have done...."
"Delenn, I don't blame you!" Each time he said it, the lie hurt more. "It is.... done. Delenn, I watched one woman I love collapse because of tragedy, and I couldn't do anything about it. I ran away from Anna because it was my way of coping with.... what happened, and because I was too busy running away I didn't see her destroying herself.
"I was running away from you as well, Delenn. I didn't want to face.... I couldn't.... but I don't want to run away any more. I love you, Delenn. I never want to see you hurt, or upset, or in pain again. I want to protect you and keep you safe from harm, and I know I can't, and that scares me and.... I'm sorry, Delenn, I just...."
Gently, she reached out and took his hand. Her skin felt so soft against his. "We do not have the future. We only have today. We love each other, and surely.... surely we can find a way."
"You're always so much better at this than I am," he whispered. "How is it you're so much better at this?"
She smiled. "I don't know," she said. "I am trembling so much I can barely stand."
"Then sit down."
Quietly, she sat down next to him. He put his arm around her, naturally, and held her close against him.
Then they kissed.
Today is all there is.
For tomorrow we die.
* * * * * * *
The arguments had been long and tortuous, and had grown heated on more than one occasion. Some, like Takier, preferred to remain autonomous. The Minbari had survived for centuries without asking for help from anyone else. Why should they do so now?
Tirivail recognised the necessity of a military alliance. The civil war had cost them all greatly, and the Minbari needed allies, there was no doubt about that. However, she questioned whether committing fully to the Alliance was necessary in itself.
Gysiner and Chardhay, speaking, as they often did, as one, reminded the Council that the leader of the Alliance was the Blessed Delenn herself. By joining the Alliance they would in effect be making her the leader of the Minbari Federation, as she should have been so long ago.
It was the votes of Kats and Lurna which had swung it. Takier and Tirivail had bowed, accepting defeat.
And so it was that Kats found herself standing in the Alliance Council Chamber, looking at the diverse members of the Council. Sinoval had told her a little of his meeting with the Council almost a year ago, and already it had grown larger.
With these people, she thought, there lies the power of half the galaxy.
Of course an Ambassador would be needed, and that had not been fully finalised yet. Many in the Council wanted Kats herself to take on that rôle, arguing that she was the most suitable. She had refused, not wanting to leave Minbar, and especially not wanting to leave Kozorr. Already she missed him, her heart burning.
But someone was needed to come to speak for the Federation in the opening meetings, to resolve the treaties and trade pacts and all the other necessities of diplomacy. Takier and Tirivail had brought the ships to aid in the final battle at Z'ha'dum, and Kats had come along as well.
She missed Kozorr, and she remembered their final night together before she left. She also remembered their final morning, as she had awoken to see him staring at the sunrise. She had gone to him, and they had spent the morning in silence, fingers brushing, looking over the new world that they would create together.
Then she had left, with no words spoken. None needed to be said.
Unlike now, when many words needed to be said. A great many words.
"Friends, Ambassadors, Council Members," she began, "as representative of the Grey Council and the Minbari Federation, it is an honour to be here, and an even greater honour to bring the Minbari Federation into the United Alliance of Races...."
* * * * * * *
We will send aid.
No, none is necessary. They will fight this battle themselves.
And if there is no battle?
There will be, a battle of words if not of weapons. They understand now.
They understand too much.
The war will be won. When that is so.... their understanding will avail them little. The war was that of the Enemy. The peace will be ours.
As you say. They will fight this last battle alone.
* * * * * * *
And so it was here, the largest fleet ever assembled in mortal memory. Drazi Sunhawks, Brakiri fighters, Minbari warships, Centauri and Narn fighters together, Llort, Vree, Gaim, Abbai.... and the fearsome Dark Stars.
On the bridge of the Agamemnon, Captain David Corwin looked around at his crew, and thought of the countless thousands of lives within this fleet, many of whom would not return. There was an old phrase he had heard once, a line from a poem perhaps, relating to a terrible war on Earth over three hundred years ago.
"When you go back, tell them of us and say, For your tomorrow, we gave our today."
He looked down at Kazomi 7. He thought of Mary, somewhere safe from all this fighting. He thought of Lianna, and her child, forever without a father. He thought of his parents, his brothers and sisters, all long dead. He thought, strangely enough, of Bester.
"Know what we are fighting for," he whispered.
He did not know what everyone else was fighting for, but he did know what he was fighting for.
The ships, as one, turned. Jump points opened, and the fleet moved for Z'ha'dum.
* * * * * * *
It was a dead world, at the end of space in a region filled with dead worlds.
A thousand years ago a fleet came here, and there was bloodshed and fire and shadow, as Valen led those who followed him into the depths of Z'ha'dum. It was said he uncovered the world's greatest secret there, although none knew what that secret was, at least none who admitted to knowing.
It was at Z'ha'dum that Marrain and Parlonn had met for the last time, in an epic duel that proved, for once and for all, which of them was better. It was there that Marrain had set a tomb for his fallen friend, and there that the seeds of his betrayal were nurtured and grew, although they had existed all along.
That tomb had long been sought and rarely been found. There were countless catacombs beneath the barren, wasted surface of Z'ha'dum, tunnels leading into the very heart of the world, and none knew them all. Not the Heart Guards, not the Drakh magi, not the Zener Flesh-Sculptors, not even the Pale and Silent King himself. There were whispers of course, rumours of what lay below. Drakh would occasionally enter the unknown and forbidden areas seeking knowledge and understanding. Few returned.
Less than a year ago, three mortals had travelled into the heart of the world. One had died, one had been recaptured and the third.... the third had disappeared. All three, in their own way, had discovered the greatest secret of Z'ha'dum, the one the Shadows reserved for the most trusted of their race. The Priests of the Fallen Midnight, the Heart Guards, and the Pale and Silent King. Not even the most trusted of the Drakh knew.
At the heart of Z'ha'dum, rested the Eldest. The First of the First Ones. The Father of All Darkness. The first living being in all the galaxy to reach sentience.
The name he chooses to use is Lorien, and he is not alone.
"You do understand, don't you?"
"Of course I do. I had.... how long.... to think about it?"
"A year or so by your standards has passed in the world outside. A little longer in here, I believe. It has been said by many that time does not work in the same way on this world as it does on others. They may be right."
"Time doesn't work the same way on a Monday morning as it does on a Friday night. I've had long enough."
"This part of it will soon be over. I had.... hoped there would be some understanding by now, but it seems I was wrong. A pity. It is a terrible thing when your children fight. I had hoped for something.... more than this."
"I'll do what I can."
"I was not talking about you. I very much doubt you will be a disappointment to anyone."
"Tell that to my father."
"You know where I will send you?"
"I know. I know who I'll meet when I get there, and what to say to him. And after that...."
"After that.... you will be on your own."
"I'll cope. How long will it take me to get there?"
"Ah, time again. Not long, I believe, although whether by my standards or yours I cannot be sure. Very little in this galaxy is certain in any way."
"Yes, whatever. I guess this is goodbye, then."
"Yes, it is. It has been.... interesting having you here. You have a most unusual outlook on things."
"You need to get out more if you think I'm interesting. It's been nice knowing you. We'll meet again, yes?"
"Oh, yes. Of that, I am very sure."
There was a blaze of light, and she was gone. The Eldest sighed and continued his long and lonely walk. Someone was waiting for him. One of those above had come to consult with him. He knew why.
"It is a terrible thing when your children fight," he repeated to himself.
The Shadow was there, on the precipice. It was larger by far than was usual, and the dappled grey and purple on its head bespoke its rank. Lorien rose through the mists of earth and air and appeared beside the Shadow. He did not always come when a pilgrim arrived here, but tradition was tradition, and times were changing swiftly.
Besides, this was the Pale and Silent King, and few ignored such a meeting.
Lorien pondered the origins of the name, and thought of the irony. Few understood the meaning now, and yet it was maintained anyway. For a race which thrived on change, the Shadows could be very traditional.
<They are coming,> the Pale and Silent King said. Lorien only nodded once. <They are coming, Eldest.>
"As they did once before. I remember the fighting well."
<This time will be the last.>
"You have survived before. You have been driven from this world countless times in the past, and always you returned."
<We returned for you, Eldest. Such was our bargain, in the dawn of ages, that we would guard you in your place of retreat. We will not be able to return this time. This time.... we will be lost.>
"All things change."
<Not our duty. Never our duty. We were to be their teachers, their guides. We were to show them the stars.>
"And yet they have made it to the stars on their own. Without you."
<No, Eldest. Their every action was because of us. Waking or sleeping, we were there.>
"And the Vorlons. They were there also."
<Yes. The Vorlons were there also. As they will be here. Their minds and their voices are coming here.>
"You have defence systems. You have ships. You can defend this world."
<No, Eldest. We shall lose. We shall be defeated. But we will die with pride. We will defend your home to the last, and in our deaths, all of them shall see the stars. Maybe even some of them will understand.>
"Even when you are all gone, you seek to manipulate them. As you say, you are lost. Why fight? What can this gain? The Vorlons will understand this too. A day will come when I will talk to the Vorlon Lights Cardinal in their ancient home and he will say the same things you have said. Their time is done. You chose to stay when the others left. All of you chose to stay. You must have known you could not stay forever. You must have known a time would come when you were not needed. That is change, after all."
<Some things do not change. Our duty does not change, and nor do you, Eldest.>
"A time will come when I myself must leave. Not now, no, but soon. I will join you all beyond the Rim, and see what lies beyond."
<We will die for you, Eldest. We have always lived for you, and now we will die for you.>
"That is not necessary."
<It is our duty. It is.... what is.>
"And you will be the last."
<As you were the First. Fare well, Eldest. We go to our deaths.>
Lorien sighed. Unnecessary. It was all so unnecessary. He had to remain here. He had to watch. The time was not yet right for him to leave. The Shadows believed that if he ever left Z'ha'dum, the entire planet would be destroyed. So did the Vorlons for that matter.
He looked up, and with eyes that were not in his head but in his soul, he looked through kilometres of rock, of city, of air, of sky, of star.
And he saw the ships appear in the skies above Z'ha'dum.
And he saw the Shadows make ready for them.
* * * * * * *
There was always that one, single moment of hesitation in battle, an instant when both sides stopped and thought. Such moments brought about either victory or defeat, and it was a wise leader who knew how to use them.
Both fleets moved, casually, slowly, circling around each other. The Shadow warships hovered above their ancestral home, the place of their duty, the place where their Pale and Silent King waited. They knew their duty. All of them knew their duty. And some of them knew only revenge.
You did not let us show you heaven.
So we will show you hell.
The Dark Stars hummed, the trapped souls within them focussing their minds and efforts at the commands of far distant masters. Through their eyes the Vorlons watched, and through their mouths the Vorlons sent their reply.
We will show them heaven. And we will show them hell. You are not needed.
Still the battle did not start. The Alliance ships continued to jump into view, taking up their positions, each ship according to their precise orders. Defence, shock attack, reserves. The whole plan had been evaluated, calculated, prepared.
The war was over. Now.
And still the battle did not start. Neither side moved. The Alliance could not know that the Shadows were arguing amongst themselves. The Vorlons did, and, sensing some final deception on the part of their ancient enemies, waited.
A message was sent to the Dark Star 1, flagship of the fleet, to General John 'Shadowkiller' Sheridan himself.
A reply was sent, and from the dead world of Z'ha'dum, there came a shuttle.
The Vorlons still waited.
* * * * * * *
He had stared into the face of death twice before in his life, and, through fate or miracle or chance or stubbornness or destiny, he had survived both times. He knew that this time he would not.
He walked with a limp, his every breath clouded with smoke. Things rattled inside him, things that should not be moving like that. Bright lights flashed before his eyes.
He remembered hanging there, in that dark room, tears rolling down his eyes as he looked at the body of his wife. They had killed her, with their experiments and their tortures. He had never hated anything before in his life, but he hated now. Oh, how he hated them now! He would sell his soul for revenge. They had taken his wife and his daughter, and maybe his son too.
And then something had moved, emerging from the darkness. He recognised the silhouette, and a curse rasped from his mouth. He wanted revenge.... but he could not move, not so much as an inch.
"Come back.... have you?" he had whispered. "What more can you do to me? Kill me.... If you have any mercy at all.... just kill me!"
"Oh no," said the figure, her cat's eyes dancing with pleasure. He knew her. Not a Minbari, no, but she might as well have been. "I have no mercy, and you aren't going to die. Not for a very long time. There are some people who want to meet you."
He shifted back to the present and saw the guards looking at him. He limped past them, moving as they directed. He had a mission to perform, his last mission for the people who had treated him well, the people who had given him a chance, not just for revenge, but also to do some good.
There were others who could have been sent, he supposed. People in better health than he was. Drakh magi. A Zener surgeon or diplomat. A Z'shailyl even. But they had chosen him. The Pale and Silent King had chosen him.... for this last meeting.
One last warning. One last message before everything collapsed into flames.
He could feel the presence of the Pale and Silent King in the back of his mind, illuminated through one of the Drakh mage-orbs. The Drakh armada might have been torn apart and scattered to the winds at Minbar two years ago, but they still had their uses.
As, apparently, did an old man. An old, dying man.
He remembered the flash of light that had seared his eyes and his mind. Welles was at his side, Clark before him, ready to unleash devastation on Proxima. One of them had moved, and then there had been a roar, a burst of energy, and the sound of Clark's body tearing apart.
He should have died then. The Shadows had been able to save him to get him off-world, but he still should have died. Not even the Zener could fully repair the injuries he had suffered, the pain the Vorlon's light had caused to his Shadow-enhanced body. He wondered if Welles still lived.
The Shadows had not been able to save him after all. The Zener had restored his sight and mended most of his bones, but there was little more they could do, especially with the lack of resources. He was a dying man, and he knew it.
But he had one duty to fulfill first.
The guards stepped aside, Narns mostly. The infamous Narn Bat Squad. A wry smile touched his face, as he entered the room.
General John Sheridan and the Blessed Delenn rose to meet him.
Former Ambassador David Sheridan coughed. "Hello, son."
* * * * * * *
W e should fight.
No, there can be another way.
What other way is there? We should fight. The Enemy is beaten. We can destroy them. We can take their world. We can....
Why do they not fight now? There is some trick, some plan. The Eldest has been talking to them.
The Eldest will not betray us. He will not aid them.
When we own Z'ha'dum, we will ask him. We will serve him, and follow in his path. But for now.... he has chosen to live with them.
They were unworthy of him.
Yes. And see, they have been defeated. Let them have their last, little deception. They have lost.
So, what shall we do?
Wait. Still.
* * * * * * *
"Hello, son."
"Dad?"
Delenn straightened, looking at the man before her with calm eyes. He looked ill, broken and shattered. In one way he reminded her of Welles, in those last days. Knowing he was dying, but with an inner peace, an acceptance of what was to come.
Then she looked at John. He looked torn, stunned surprise meeting with a steely resolve. As far as she was aware, John had not known his father was still alive. Ambassador Sheridan had come to Kazomi 7 to negotiate a false peace treaty, and he had spoken with his son then. Delenn had passed that off as a fever-dream on John's part, not wishing to hurt him with the knowledge that his father was working for the Enemy.
She supposed he might have acquired that knowledge on Proxima, but she honestly did not know. Gently, slowly, she reached out one hand to brush against John's. Still he did not say anything.
David Sheridan was one of the people responsible for the death of their son, whom she had ironically and unknowingly given his name. She had chosen the name David because of Captain Corwin, not for John's father, but the name was there in any case.
She should hate him, but she could not. She had not hated Welles, and had forgiven him at the end. Hatred was not the answer, not to anything. She did not even hate the Shadows any more.
"I thought you were dead," John whispered.
"I should have been. The Shadows got me off Proxima just in time, and their scientists patched me up.... as well as they could. I'm still dying, mind."
"You could come back to Proxima," John said quickly. "Or to Kazomi Seven. Between all of us, we can probably find a way to heal you properly."
Ambassador Sheridan was surprised, and so was Delenn. She looked up into John's face, and found no sign of emotion there. Nothing at all. The sight scared her.
"Ah," the Ambassador said. Then he sighed. "No, I don't think that's a viable option any more. I made my decision, and I will stick with the consequences."
"You taught me that."
"Yes."
Another silence. Delenn tightened her grip on John's hand. His skin felt very cold. She made to speak, but John spoke first.
"Why are you here, Dad? What is this - some last threat or joke from the Shadows?"
"Nothing of the sort. A last parley, you could say. A last message."
"Well?" Delenn said nothing. She had an uncomfortable feeling she had heard a message similar to this before. You would not let us show you heaven.
"It's not too late, you know. Turn on the Vorlons. They aren't your friends. They're.... a relic of the past. Foolish notions.... but dangerous for all that. Join us, listen to us, ignore us.... do whatever you like. But don't work with the Vorlons, whatever you do."
"They have helped us," John said calmly. "They brought me back from death. They provided us with these ships. They've given us almost everything we've needed. They aren't perfect, no, and I'm not saying I trust them entirely.... but they've given us more reason to trust them than you have."
No, Delenn thought. They've given us no reason to trust them at all, and every reason to abandon them.
Ambassador Sheridan shook his head. "You don't understand." He paused, and then chuckled wryly. "Hah! They'll be telling you that in a few years. If they aren't already. They're fond of saying that. You don't understand. This time you really don't.... or maybe you do. I don't know.
"But I know this. We've lost. We admit it. We're done for, and this time there's no coming back. There's two ways to handle this. Unfortunately.... most of us chose the wrong one."
"You mean trying to blow up Kazomi Seven."
"Yes.... that was part of it. Revenge, you see. Scourge the galaxy. Too many believed that.... if you didn't want to listen to us, you shouldn't be allowed to listen to anyone. It wasn't just Kazomi Seven, you know. Centauri Prime, the Narns.... all over the place. Let the galaxy burn.
"But not any more. You know, I've spent my whole life indulging in diplomacy, working out factions, who they are, what they want, and it still hit me to learn that the Shadows are every bit as factionalised as anyone else I've ever met. The Vorlons will be too, I suppose. Some of them preached revenge, others hoped that we could get one last lesson through to you all before it was too late.
"The revenge faction lost a lot of prestige when Kazomi Seven survived. And Centauri Prime. They had at least one other plot in motion that I don't know about. Something to do with a legacy, but that doesn't matter. The Shadow leaders recalled all ships, all warriors and servitor races here. Ready for one huge battle.
"What you see out here isn't the half of it. We have more of those death clouds. We've got the Z'Shailyl, the Zarqheba, the Drakh magi, not to mention the defence grid. Maybe we could even win this battle, although I doubt it if the Vorlons get involved, but that doesn't matter.... because what would be the point?
"Look at you all. Everyone is stronger now, because of us. The Alliance would never have formed if the Drakh hadn't attacked Kazomi Seven. All of you are different now.... better, stronger. That was all we wanted to do. Make you stronger.
"I think it worked too well. It's been said the greatest joy in any teacher's life is to be surpassed by his pupil. No one on Z'ha'dum is saying that now."
He paused, and looked down. "There was a message from the Shadow leaders, from all those who didn't just want revenge.
"We wanted what was best for you all. We tried to show you the stars, and you rejected us. We tried to give you heaven...."
"And we cast you down," Delenn whispered. "Then, if we will not see heaven, you will show us hell."
He looked surprised. "You know? Then I suppose you already know what we are going to tell you now. We only tried to do what was right for you, and along the way we stumbled and fell.... but still we tried. When we are gone.... when you remember us.... remember the good as well as the bad.
"There. Now, I will go. If you will let me. I want to be on Z'ha'dum when the end comes. It is strange, but I feel more at home there than anywhere else since Earth.... Including Proxima."
"Wait! Dad!" John said. "Are you all just going to fight us then? Your planet killers, and your Drakh and your warships. You're all just going to fight now?"
"Yes."
"And you know you'll lose."
"Probably, we will."
"But you'll go ahead anyway? You'll kill God knows how many of us, and all your own people, and all those servant races who swore to follow you. You'll throw them all away?"
"What else is there? We cannot continue as we were. We can only fight."
"Can the Shadows hear you? Right now?"
"Yes. Their leaders can hear this through a Drakh mage-orb. There is something blocking it, some trick of the Vorlons, but the signal is still there. They would have to be much more powerful to shut down a signal like that completely, here, at Z'ha'dum."
"So their leaders can hear you?"
"Yes."
"Good. Dad.... how about coming for a little walk with Delenn and me? There are some things to show you. All of you."
* * * * * * *
Images from the End of the Age.
Tirivail of the Minbari - "I came to storm the gates of hell, to stand where the heroes of old stood, to fulfill their legacy, to become a legend and a hero myself. In a thousand years, I want my name remembered, I want there to be people following my stories, emulating my deeds.
"But I wonder.... what is the point? My father is Warleader now, my Clan leader, Satai. My sister served Primarch Sinoval. My brother died with honour. What have I done to match their deeds?
"I do not want to be forgotten. Not by anyone.
"And if I have to storm Z'ha'dum to do that, then so be it."
Kulomani of the Brakiri - "My father made trinkets for sale at market, little jewels, things that spun in the starlight of our world. He made them himself, with time and effort and skill. He taught me how to make them. He wanted me to follow his path, to pursue his dreams and not my own.
"I left, and joined the military. I wanted to see the worlds I had only ever heard of as a child, to see sunlight, and stars, to see Minbar and Narn and Earth and even the dead worlds at the Rim my people spoke of with such fear.
"My father died fifteen years ago, and I never spoke to him after he left. Soon it will be the Day of the Dead. I will return home, and talk to my father then when he returns to me. I will explain my decision, and tell him all the things I have seen, and I will beg his forgiveness.
"And if I die here, then I will return to my son as a shade, and explain to him all the things I have not yet said, all the things I have not said since he left to pursue his own path, far from my own...."
Ta'Lon of the Narn - "What is there to say? I fight because that is what I do. I have met the one I will follow all my life, until I am gone. He asked me to come here, to stand here at the end of his dream and watch the nightmare end, and so here I am. What else is there to say?
"Loyalty is a virtue, or so I was told. But more than that, it is what I am. Take away my loyalty to the Ha'Cormar'ah, and I am nothing. I have lost my eye, my friend, my parents in this war, but I believe these things were justified because he claims it.
"And if I for one single moment doubt that is so, then it all will be for nothing.
"So what is there to say? I will live or die at his word."
Lord-General Carn Mollari of the Centauri - "My father told me something once: that it was better to look to the future than to stare at the past, better to create our own society than live on memories of what used to be. His brother, on the other hand, was too busy dreaming of the golden age of our people ever to amount to anything.
"Now his brother is the Emperor of the Centauri Republic, his son is their Lord-General, and he died through madness and fire. He and I were never close, but I went to his funeral. It was.... expected by our society. I spoke there, which was also expected.
"And I told his spirit he was wrong. You cannot live for the future if you forget the past. Remember the mistakes of old, and make them right in the now. I've fought too many wars. I don't want to fight any more. I want to go home and serve my Republic and my Emperor, but I'll fight if I have to. Not because there is no other choice, although really there isn't, but because if I don't....
"Then who will?"
Daro of the Drazi - "What to say? Drazi attacked by Shadows, by servants of Shadows. Drazi ships destroyed. Drazi worlds destroyed. Drazi say, we fight back.
"Drazi members of Alliance, for now. While that is so, while Alliance fights Shadows, Drazi fight Shadows.
"Blessed Delenn says this will all be over soon, says no more Drazi will have to die.
"What will Drazi do then? When there is no one to fight, what will Drazi do?"
Flight-lieutenant Neeoma Connally of the Human Race - "Hard to believe I've seen all this, lasted this long, and I'm still alive. Sometimes I get dreams, bad dreams. I can feel them, whispering to me, reaching out for me, but they're just dreams. Show me anyone who doesn't have bad dreams at the moment.
"Oh, I can feel that orb you're carrying by the way. It's buzzing at me.
"Why am I here? Ah.... my father always believed in protecting the little guy, the guy who couldn't look after himself, who needed someone else to do it. He tried to do this by getting them all together, creating unions to stand up to the bullies. All he wanted was what was fair. My mother didn't really understand. She saw him threatened, beaten up. Our house was burned down once. He tried to explain to her, but I don't think she ever really understood.
"I did though. You can't back down from the bullies, because that only makes them stronger. You have to face them down, because all bullies are cowards at heart.
"That's all this is really. Standing up to the bullies. The bullies are just bigger, and there's more of the little guys. I'm going to keep standing up to them as long as possible. That's the thing, see. This will never be over. Oh, this war might, but there are always more bullies.
"It would be nice to have a bit of a rest though. And to stop having those dreams."
General John Sheridan, 'the Shadowkiller' - "Are they hearing all this?"
Ambassador David Sheridan of the Shadows - "Yes, they can hear all this."
General John Sheridan 'the Shadowkiller' - "Good."
* * * * * * *
Lorien had not gone far. He had been expecting the Pale and Silent King to return to him in time, and soon enough he was proved right. He usually was.
<We do not understand. The magi, the Priests of Midnight, the Flesh-Sculptors, the Heart Guards, the Seers of the Stars.... We all hear, but we do not understand.>
"Of course not," Lorien replied.
<What are they doing?>
"They are showing you all just what they are. It is a clever move, really. Very clever. They are people now, do you see? They are real people, just as you are. They are explaining their hopes and dreams, and in doing so they are proving themselves your superiors, because you do not have hopes and dreams yourselves.
"Do you not see? You tried to show them heaven. They already know the path there. Not all of them will make it, but they at least know which way to tread.
"They do not need you any longer. If they ever did."
<We will still fight for you, Eldest.>
"And still you do not see. They are strong enough without you. If you fight them, then you will truly have lost. Not just the battle, or the war, but you will have lost everything. You fought them to make them stronger, to make them fitter and wiser.
"But listen to them. You have made them everything they can ever be. You have done all you can ever do for them. Already there is one who is your image of perfection. I can feel him moving, and the others.... all living races have heeded your lessons and learned from them. There is nothing more to do for them now. They have learned all you can teach them.
"Fight them.... kill them.... and you ruin all that you have created. You will truly have lost then."
<Not all of them understand.>
"No, they all do. Most of them merely do not realise it yet. It will be a long and painful road for them, but eventually they will make it, and they will do so by themselves."
<Then.... we have lost.>
"As you were always going to."
<We have failed you, Eldest.>
"No, you only failed yourselves. And perhaps.... not even that. Continue to listen...."
* * * * * * *
As the Pale and Silent King watched, as the entire Shadow race watched, as countless vassal races and peoples watched, as the Eldest being in the galaxy watched, John Sheridan and Delenn of Mir sat down in a room with Ambassador David Sheridan.
"Very clever," Ambassador Sheridan said. He was wheezing loudly, but there was still a smile on his face. "Very clever. You learned well, John."
"It wasn't all my idea," John replied. "A lot of it was Delenn's." Ambassador Sheridan looked at her, and saw a hint of concern in her green eyes.
"The time for war is over," Delenn said softly. "We have fought too long, and where has it brought us? You have lost, and you know it. Why continue to fight?"
"What else is there? No.... you're right. We don't want to fight. None of us does. But.... you can't understand. They are an ancient race. They took on a noble goal thousands of years ago. They believed in it. They really did. And now....
"It's hard to admit your children no longer need you."
"We do understand," Delenn said. "We have learned a lot. We will take what you have taught us, and we will remember. We will not forget. We may even come to forgive. For myself, I forgive you all. For the others....
"You have seen who they are. You have heard them speak. There are countless others, and they all have their own dreams. They have families, loved ones. They are real people, not pawns for you to move around. There are countless more here for you to meet and talk to.
"Do you really want to kill them? They are the people you tried to create all along. You have achieved your goal. End this, and be proud."
"No," Ambassador Sheridan said, shaking his head. "We're not proud. None of us is. We made a mistake, far too many mistakes. But what else is there left for us? To live on forever knowing we aren't needed any more? To know always that we lost and.... they won!"
"There's no shame in admitting you're wrong," John said, and his father started. "There is only shame in knowing you are wrong, and carrying on regardless.
"You taught me that."
"I know. Ah, Lord help me, I know."
* * * * * * *
"Now do you see? Now do you understand?"
<We.... we are wrong. But what else is there?>
"The others have gone Beyond the Rim. There are whole new worlds and galaxies and wonders to explore. You stayed behind. It was for a noble purpose, but that purpose is over.
"Go. Go and catch up with them all."
<You will come with us, Eldest?>
"Not yet, no. I still have my duties to attend here."
<The Vorlons.>
"Yes. You have learned now what you needed to learn. They have not. Someone now needs to teach them. They need to understand."
<And then?>
"When they understand? Then we will leave. All of us. All those who stayed behind. We will pass this galaxy on to those who will follow, and we will hope they will have learned enough to do the same when their time comes. All things are a cycle."
<As you say, Eldest. We shall leave. And we shall wait for you.>
"I do not think you will have to wait long."
* * * * * * *
Ambassador Sheridan straightened suddenly, and sighed. "It's over. We're leaving."
"Leaving?" John asked.
"Yes. They're going beyond the Rim, leaving this galaxy for good. It's the only way. We can't stay behind, not knowing we've lost like this. You've.... reminded us all what we stood for once."
"What's going to happen to you, Dad?"
"The same thing that happens to us all. I'm going to die." He suddenly stopped, and cocked his head. A light flashed behind his eyes and he smiled, the shocked, euphoric smile of a poor sinner who has just found his way into heaven after all. "They're going to take me with them," he breathed. "They're taking me with them. I'm.... I'm going to see another galaxy!"
John smiled. "That's...." He swallowed. "I'll miss you, Dad."
"Not for long, John. I have.... a feeling you'll be joining us there eventually." He looked at Delenn. "Both of you."
She smiled.
"What are you going to do now, John?" he asked. "What next?"
"Rebuild, I suppose," he said. "Find a new cause, a new dream. Make right everything that once went wrong."
"Remember us, please. We.... we did a lot of terrible things, awful things, but we did some good as well. We tried to do good. When you do remember us.... please remember the good as well as the bad."
"We will," Delenn said.
He looked at her. "I'm sorry," he said. "For everything I did, for everything we did.... I'm sorry. I just want to let you know.... I'd be proud to have you as a daughter-in-law. Very proud."
He looked at John. "I'll be meeting up with your Mum out there. Lizzy too. And Anna. All of them. They've been waiting for me. We'll all be waiting for you.
"John.... take care."
"I will, Dad."
The two men embraced.
* * * * * * *
Words spoken by thought, words spoken faster than light. - Should we not warn them about the Vorlons? The balance will be broken.
- No. This is our fight no longer.
(Pause)
- Besides, in a very real sense, they have already been warned. The messenger is out there. Our faith in him will not be misplaced.
* * * * * * *
Z'ha'dum, the world formerly asleep, now wakened, made to sleep once more.
From his place overlooking the great fissure, the Pale and Silent King commanded the recall of all Shadow ships, of all vassal races. All who wanted would go Beyond the Rim with them. The Drakh, ever ready to serve their Dark Masters, agreed to do so in the next galaxy as readily as they had in this. Some, like the Zarqheba and the Z'shailyl, wished to stay, and this was granted. The Shadows had no power in this galaxy any longer.
Technology was taken quickly from hiding places millennia old. Some caches were inevitably forgotten, but that was no longer an issue the Shadows concerned themselves with.
And they assembled, one by one, shimmering in space above their homeworld, now lost to them forever.
They waited on just one of their number.
<You will not come with us, Eldest?>
"No. I have a duty here. Remember me, though. I will join you eventually."
<We will always remember you. We served you as best we could.>
"I know. I have been proud to know you all. Do not think of this as a failure. In a very real way, for you, this is a victory."
The Pale and Silent King ascended to his personal flagship, surrounded by the Heart Guards and the Seers of Stars, and he led the Shadow race to the next galaxy.
Among their number, beside the Drakh and the Zener and their servants and emissaries and agents, David Sheridan looked down at the Alliance fleet.
"I am proud of you, son," he whispered. "I'll always be proud of you."
Then they left.
* * * * * * *
But first, there was one final conversation.
"It is over."
"Yes, it is over."
"You have won."
"Yes, we have won."
"Enjoy your victory. We will be waiting for you."
"Waiting for what?"
"For you to understand."
* * * * * * *
"So, that's a victory, hmm?" John said to himself, as the last ship left.
"The best type," Delenn said. "No one is dead, and we are all.... wiser. We have all learned something."
"So.... I think Dad said it best. What now?"
"We take control of Z'ha'dum. We will have to stop anyone stealing technology from it. We will have to bring all the races together, make sure all the wars are truly over. We have to keep the Alliance safe and secure and build a true foundation for the future.
"But first.... we can go home."
John Sheridan smiled. "Good idea."